Whatever Happened to New Zealand's Viral Craze “Babe of the Day”?

The year was 2013. People loved Anne Hathaway. Miley Cyrus twerked on Robin Thicke. You were unlikely to get through your 10 AM Intro to Economics class without hearing a nearby lad whisper, "You know that chick on Babe of the Day? She's in my class."

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the only time you could see a bikini pic of your friend's flatmate and comment how much you "would."

Babe of the Day began as a Facebook page started by students at Victoria University, showcasing a different Vic "babe" each day. Friends could submit pictures of their friends accompanied by a short blurb describing their beauty and what they studied interwoven with provocative phrases like "look but don't touch ;)"

Several days later, some proactive schmuck created Dunner's Babe of the Day, reaching over 20,000 likes at its peak, and a nationwide phenomenon was born. Babe of the Day was a textbook thirst trap, predating even the term itself.

The page's administrators enjoyed viral success by capitalising on a pretty simple concept: hot female students will always be hankered for from afar by their hormonal male peers. Each post invited likes and tagging of friends who have some kind of intimate claim on the "babe." Naturally, the more attention a certain post received in the form of likes and comments, the hotter the girl.

This ethos became an easy target for moral activists. Critics labeled the craze as "sexist." They cited not only an imbalance of women and men, but when males were posted, their blurbs applauded sporting prowess or masculinity as opposed to females, who were noted for their appearance alone.

Also problematic was a perceived lack of consent from the babes, who were put on a pedestal allowing strangers to weigh in on their sex appeal. Then, of course, there was the uncomfortably narrow expectations of beauty that the pages promoted—picture after picture of almost interchangeable white girls with long hair and good bodies.

Sean, founder of Wellington Babe of the Day, asked for his surname not to be published. Very few people know he actually managed the page. Sean's anonymity became particularly important as, among the 20 to 30 daily submissions, his inbox began filling with angry messages from people accusing the page of sexism and discriminating against girls that "weren't as pretty."

"I just didn't want anyone to be bullied. I looked at the pictures and if I saw any potential for someone to be bullied I would avoid posting that person," Sean told VICE. In an attempt to, in his words, keep the page "as classy as possible," Sean would also frequently go through comments and delete anything inappropriate.

"I would delete and block people after posting a picture. Or if they tried to get in touch with the girls or say sleazy things," he explained. "The Dunedin one seemed very shallow and objectifying of women."

Jessica* a former "babe" on the Auckland University of Technology page describes being nominated as a double-edged sword—simultaneously flattering and unnerving. It was like being digitally catcalled.

"I had a lot of friend requests and random messages… just a bunch of creeps trying to talk to me," she tells VICE. "A page to praise certain girls does make you feel good if you're one of them, but no one likes to feel like they can't meet those standards of a babe."

Although many people have tried to replicate the success of Babe of the Day, nothing has ever reached Babe's dizzying heights. Admittedly, Dunner's Cat of the Day did gain considerable traction.

The page may have weathered the media storm and seemingly came out the other side, but something changed in the approach of its fans. Submissions decreased and the whole trend came to a definitive halt. Dunedin's admins even revealed themselves to ask for someone to take over. Other pages straight up asked for likes.

It has been three years since Babe of the Day's demise, but Sean thinks it's time the craze made a comeback. Despite the page's "shallow" origins, Sean took up the reigns because he saw the potential of the page to cultivate Wellington pride—and make someone's day.

"I am thinking about kicking it off again, but the way Facebook's set up now it wouldn't go viral. I'd probably pump a couple of hundred bucks a week into it to get the views up," he said.

Surely investing a thousand dollars a month to resurrect Babe of the Day, a Facebook page that celebrates local beauty, seems a little like overkill? "For me it wasn't to sit there and look at girls in a sexual way," he explains. "It's there to make a girl or a guy's day. For me I would get pleasure in knowing that."

Even if the passion of Babe of the Day should be reignited, it's just not enough to trawl through each dormant page and warm it up again by posting hot girls. In the past three years, we've evolved.

Although Jessica* can see how the hype behind Babe of the Day made it so successful, she doesn't think it served any purpose. "At the end of the day it was just a selection of girls who are so called babes. Probably just a place for guys to creep on the next hot girl," she said.

But that was its designed function. To autopsy Babe of the Day, we don't need to look any further than Jessica's* observation. As Babe of the Day dwindled, dating-app Tinder (launched eight months before the first page) was just starting to gain a following in New Zealand. Suddenly, if you wanted to find a hot girl in your area online, you didn't have to wishfully scroll student-curated pages of girls put there without their permission–you could swipe your way to a consenting one.

It's not just that social media evolved, but also shows how we too have matured in our approach to it. Today, barely anyone writes status updates. Even Instagram pictures are exchanged in private messages between friends before posting. We've finally come to realise privacy is a precious commodity, which means monitoring closely who can see what about us. It's easy to see why public posting of your name, a collection of your pictures and personal information has since lost its appeal.

Then again, who doesn't like seeing hot babes online (that if you actually went to your 8am class you could meet IRL)? Go for it, Sean.

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