The Picturesque at all Costs
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| Ivana Lena Besevic |
Some people have the most curated Instagram pages. All their photos have the same color scheme, and their outfits are always perfect, and I could scroll for hours without finding a single flaw. For some of those people, it's all an Internet illusion. For others, it's real life. They wake up and match their shoes to their sweater, they whisk their iced matcha, and they post their cute selfies to their story. As much as I want to say that it's all an illusion for online presence, that isn't exactly true. Some people really do have the time and resources to live that curated, aesthetic lifestyle.
For a long time, I felt pressure to do the same. I felt as though I needed to pick an aesthetic and stick to it, to conform my life around the hobbies and styles associated with it. As appealing as it sounds, however, living in the narrow confines of a particular aesthetic is practically impossible.
"He is in a constant state of stage fright. . . because he never knows what part of his life he is going to have to act in next." -- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s Slaughterhouse Five
The idea of aesthetics has been circulating online for a long time, and I personally feel as though the pandemic only amplified it. Most everyone under the age of 27 has some familiarity with the words cottagecore or grunge. Seeing people online maintain a steady sense of identity in one of the infinite options can be comforting. It helps us to better define our understanding of them. If we see someone who claims to be cottagecore, for example, we're going to make certain assumptions about their hobbies and beliefs, such as the possibility that they like making bread from scratch.
Not only are aesthetics helpful in creating an understanding of others, but they can also be a tool for us to define ourselves. When we embrace a specific aesthetic, we get to make a statement about who we are. If we refer to ourselves as someone defined by dark academia, we can outline for ourselves an admiration for literature, intelligence, and antiquity. We get to make a claim on our individual interests, and define those interests from those of others.
Likewise, claiming an aesthetic allows us to define ourselves as part of a group. If we say we are preppy, we get to claim membership to a group of 12-year-old girls obsessed with pink smiley faces. If we call ourselves trad, we can align ourselves with the same success and influence as creators like Ballerina Farm's Hannah Neeleman. Sharing an identity with others helps us to feel like we're part of a community, even if it only exists online.
"Everything everybody does is so. . . tiny and meaningless and -- sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you're conforming just as much only in a different way." -- J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey
The problem with aesthetics, however, is how rigidly constructed they are. You can't be a clean girl and also have a home garden. You can't be Y2K and also have an obsession with Marilyn Monroe. To fully embrace an aesthetic requires a person to live within the very slim confines of "aesthetic" hobbies and interests. Once you've boxed yourself in, it feels as though there are harsh limitations on what you can enjoy, since to step outside the realm of the identity you've claimed would be seen as out of character.
Lowkey I'm yapping a lot and realizing that I'm overcomplicating this because I gave my blog URL to the Common App and now I'm scared of writing. (#regret.) Moral of the story is as follows: aesthetics are stupid. They're pretty, but they're stupid. Your whole life is never going to look picture perfect, and if it does you're probably lying. Go do stupid stuff and post ugly photos and live your life without worrying if it will look good on Instagram.
"When things are natural they are very beautiful."
"And what isn't natural?"
"Everything man had made. . . including himself." -- D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers
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