When I order a Powers whiskey neat at the only bar in town that actually carries decent Irish whiskey, the man I’m with or the bartender will note how cool it is. That I'm a woman drinking whiskey, or that I'm a woman who knows good whiskey, or some variation therein. And I know immediately what they're thinking. They expect me to be one of those cool, slightly-adventurous-but-not-crazy girls with a few strategically placed, non-clichéd tattoos.
For the record, that is not me.
The whiskey girl is portrayed as someone who can fully imbibe in masculine things while remaining incredibly (if not overbearingly) feminine. If Toby Keith’s classic 2009 vision of a whiskey girl is any indication, she has a love of cars, a rather acute compulsivity problem, and a fantastic plastic surgeon.
The myth of the whiskey girl shows a woman who loves to party but can handle her liquor. I’ve never been sure what handling your liquor meant, but as anyone who drinks whiskey knows: it does its job well.
And of course, most poignantly, the whiskey girl is flawed, rough around the edges, and complex... but only in a sexy way! Her baggage doesn't diminishes her hotness or require any emotional time and energy to understand. She is the slightly tougher, louder version of the manic pixie girl; whose flaws are cute are manageable with another drink or indie folk rock song.