If I Don't Take a Photo, Was I Even There?
I'm officially horrified with myself.
I just had a horrifying thought and had to share it since I believe some can relate. I used to read Man Repeller obsessively (I even had a hair clip that read REPELLER), and I remember something Leandra Medine published literally a decade ago. It was New York Fashion Week, and she wrote about how her phone died, and she debated skipping a show and going home. Because if she couldn’t take a video of the models, what was the point of going? She was horrified at herself for being so obsessed with proving she was cool enough to be at the show, that she was invited, she had a good seat, and whatever other reasons we feel the need to post our lives online. I remember thinking, Jesus, I better never get like that!
At the time, I was also attending fashion week and happily sitting second row, snapping photos of my favorite looks but mostly just taking in the art. I loved it. I paid serious attention (see awkward photo below). Sure, it was a different time on social media and I probably had very few followers, but I wanted to build my career as a journalist. I wasn’t thinking about looking cool online. I judged Leandra just a bit.
Well, a decade later, and maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. This week, I was invited to a really fun-sounding post-Oscars party with a beauty brand. It’s very, very A-list. This means the celebrities there will be so big, they’ll want privacy. So, the brand has requested no photos or videos inside the event — of anything or anyone. When I first heard of the party, I started thinking about what I was going to wear, if I was going to borrow a dress from a fashion brand (my closet isn’t full of black tie- clothes), or if I was going to get creative in my closet. When I found out no photos were allowed, I actually thought, Does it even matter what I wear? Should I still go? Yeah, I hate myself too. How gross.
I had to sit with myself after that reaction. At 40 years old, I don’t care very much about what people think. (I have my low days, of course.) Even though I document my life on Instagram and TikTok, there’s a lot I keep private. Having secrets is cool! So, that’s not it. What is it?! That’s when I realized I’m obsessed with optimizing my life. And I have a problem.
As a freelancer, I feel pressure to hustle all the time. When I’m not writing a story, I should be pitching another. When I’m not pitching, maybe there’s a full-time job I should apply to. When I’m not writing for a publication, I should be writing for this Substack. If I’m not writing at all, I should be making a TikTok video. Of course, then I have to edit that video for Instagram because it’s a bit of a waste otherwise. Should I post it on Threads? Bluesky? I heard Bluesky is launching its own photo-sharing app soon — I should get started on that.
If you’re already horrified, let me tell you, it gets worse. When I go to the mall, I think I don’t deserve to buy a pair of jeans unless I do a video about said pair of jeans. I only deserve to spend the money, on the jeans or the Uber to get to the mall, if I optimize my time. If I get a matcha, well, I better do a review on Instagram stories. That matcha was $11! I have to make it worth it. The pressure to optimize every minute of my life is exhausting. So, the idea of going to a party with the biggest celebs in the industry and not “working?” Horrible. What am I supposed to do, just be present and have fun?
I talk a lot about how I was a victim of the Girlboss era. I worked in magazines straight for 10 years with no breaks. I went from Time Out to Hearst to Condé Nast and killed myself for each job. I never left before my boss. I stayed at the office until the cleaning people came in. Our generation was told that if we gave ourselves to these jobs, it would pay off. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. And even though I like my career, I’ve worked hard to have a life in recent years. Moving to L.A. was a big part of that. I didn’t want to move, and I swore I’d go back to NYC in a year. But I found L.A. forced me to slow down in a way that’s good for my mental health. (Though I’m still not sure it’s the right place for me. More on that another time.)
I’m not perfect since I’m still in this crazy industry, but I’ve worked hard to have some semblance of a work/life balance. I thought just maybe, I was cured of the Girlboss disease. But it turns out the hustle culture is still inside me, it’s just manifesting in different ways.
I have more work to do. I’m going to go to the party and keep my phone inside my bag. I’m going to have fun experiences and laugh with my friends and feel cute in my outfit and not worry about being “on.” Though, of course, if anything especially exciting happens, I’ll be sure to write about it here Sunday night. Hey, I said I wasn’t perfect.
I get that. It feels like, especially the more we get involved in the public sphere, we have to document everything, to feel some sort of validation, some reassurance that each experience means something on a grander public scale than a trivial private one. Something needs to be more than just an enjoyable personal experience in order to be worth doing when there's already so much to do in this hustle culture and we feel like we're never doing enough. Let's blame consumerism. As a new vlogger, I'm trying to not get carried away with this need to feel seen, and therefore a "valuable" contributor to society. It's enough to share genuine experiences for your own sake and not expect any reactions in return sometimes.