Does it sometimes seem like social media has turned American popular culture into a perfectionist parody of itself?
Last week, I followed a debate on social media about whether a home decorating trend called “fridgescaping” deserved media attention. I guess so, because Architectural Digest recently explored what it called “romanticizing your refrigerator.”
“For some participants in this trend, it’s all about organizing the refrigerator with decorative containers,” Kristen Moonjian of trend forecasting firm Fashion Snoops told the magazine. “For others, it goes further with the addition of flowers, vases, twinkle lights, LED candles, framed artwork and more.”
I think worrying about how you stack milk cartons is a bit obsessive, but I'm not here to judge. Oh, yes! If you find yourself wanting to hang a framed photo or light a candle inside your refrigerator, it might be time to seek help.
The longer social media exerts its magnetic influence over us, the more we'll see these pop culture trends unravel.
Remember the pre-pandemic #VanLife trend? The term was coined to describe incredibly attractive couples who claimed to be having a blast touring the country in their vans, with their gorgeous golden retrievers in tow, and posting endless updates about the products they had been paid to promote that week.
In a world beset by climate change, partisan division, and $20 Erewhon milkshakes, some seem to crave a kind of Woodstock-style simplicity (being able to roll around in the mud during a rainstorm) but look like a million bucks while doing it because, you know, Instagram (I'm thinking of you, Coachella and Burning Man).
I don't care how cute you and your dog are, it's no fun living in a van.
A few months ago, I was struck by an article in the Vows section of the New York Times. Each week, the section highlights a wedding with photos and a generally upbeat story about the couple’s sometimes tortuous path to the altar. The story in question was about the union of two self-described social media influencers, which took place on the shores of Lake Como in Italy. – heVividly.
The bride, who had already been married twice, and the groom, who had already been married once, were very handsome and impeccably dressed. On their social media accounts, they promote luxury hotels and tourist offices. He is a successful photographer.
His vows sounded as if they had been written by the great social satirist Tom Wolfe.
“If you are willing to travel the world, have children, raise a family, jump out of airplanes, heal your inner child, buy dream homes all over the world and give back to the community,” the bride promised, “I am willing to be your wife.”
“Thank you for finding me in this lifetime,” the groom said. “And here’s to many more to come.” (More lifetimes, presumably, not marriages.)
Anyway, the grand finale of the wedding was a burst of what are called “daytime fireworks,” which sent what looked like streams of rainbow-colored dust into the sky.
As far as I can tell, unlike so many social media-created extravaganzas that make the news (gender reveal parties, anyone?), this one deserves some credit for causing no one to die, no forest to burn down, no trucks to end up in a lake, and no men to run away angry because they're having a girl but really want a boy.
Last week, further evidence emerged that social media has turned so many Americans into unbridled exhibitionists when — sorry, New York Times — the newspaper of record published an article about the lifestyle of a Brooklyn woman who throws an annual “birthday” party for her frozen eggs.
And, as we in the journalism business like to say, she is not alone.
“TikTok is full “Of women who organize and attend egg parties, inviting friends and family to celebrate that they have taken control of their fertile future,” the article reports.
The article does not mention whether honorary eggs or embryos have ever been incorporated into anyone's refrigerator.
Because that would be nonsense.
