Good late morning, Monday. The city is one collective grumps today because the weather is just shite. It's humid and rainy and generally gross. I'd like an IV full of Bravo television and puffy duvets. Having to motivate today is beyond a challenge. But here's the thing.
I've never been a joiner. Perhaps I've told you this before, but it's true. I'll never forget, many years ago in Miami, when a certain Creative Director called me out on such things. My department was making can sculptures in a contest with other agency departments, and we made an awesome replica of Robert Indiana's LOVE sculpture. You may think that since I'm from Philly I'd be all over that, but meh. I wasn't. And when said creative director asked me if I had a part in the whole canstruction, he abruptly corrected himself before I had a chance to answer and said, "of course you didn't work on this. You're not really much of a joiner". I couldn't disagree. What was it Groucho said? I wouldn't be part of any club that has me as a member. Groucho was pretty indie too, I guess. (Coincidentally, my husband dressed as him for career day at school when was about 6 and later got a tattoo of Groucho's face on his back. Just for reference...and to show you that two non-joiners can find each other and fall in love, and stay together).
Here's the disclaimer though- I will be there in the middle of the night if anyone ever needs me. I am happy to be part of a team, but generally I like to forge my own trail. I'm very, very independent and have found a way to make it work for all parties involved (thank goodness)- it often means you can give me something to do and know that I will get it done. I've always been this way. It's not news. As a child, if Barbies were not played my way, dressed the way I liked to dress them, or properly accounted for and stowed, I got pissed. I was not super big on sharing my toys- not because I didn't like to play or couldn't play with others, it was just that I was generally happy expressing my point of view and not the views of others.
Which leads me to this past weekend's baby shower I attended in Brooklyn. It was a lovely affair- a glowing and beautiful mother to be, sophisticated women who were lovely to chat with, and enough scones, clotted cream, and cucumber sandwiches to stuff an entire maternity ward. I should not have any complaints. But I do. For it's not the celebration of having a baby that irritates me, it's the fact that things like that make me feel very isolated. I feel like it's not enough for people to have babies anymore. Now, having a baby or two (twins everywhere) comes with a custom made shower, coordinating colors, and onesies with irony. And it's certainly not the fault of one well coordinated baby party that gets me. It's the fact that this is an era I like to refer to as the cult of everything.
Everything is commoditized and packaged for our consumption.
It's no longer enough to just take a vinyasa class. Or go for a jog. Or want to be a mother. Nowadays, you must subscribe to a typecast version of yourself. If you take yoga, you must buy the mat, the fold over waisted legging, the Tuscan kale. If you want to jog, you must buy a Jawbone wrist thing, register for a marathon, or buy the latest Air whatevers for your feet. If you want to live in Brooklyn, well you can't just live in Brooklyn. You've got to decide what type you are so you know what type of Brooklyn you can live in. If you're a power mom, perhaps Cobble Hill is your speed. If you're a budding artist, go to Bed Stuy. If you're a mom with a mullet and a rich husband, maybe Williamsburg is for you. See how tricky this shit is?
I watched a woman I work with almost go into heart failure trying to get her daughter into an elementary school. She came in my office and literally asked me if her handwritten envelope looked handwritten enough. I think our need for authenticity has been pre-empted by an almost insane need to belong, to join. My husband blames much of this on the much talked about "Like" cultural moment we find ourselves in now- Facebook has allowed us to talk about what we eat for lunch, but it also conveniently partitions us from each other by aligning us with one group or another who may appeal to who we think we are, and who we want to be.
Listen, I'm not Howard Hughes or anything. I still cut my fingernails and cut my hair. But this almost desperate need to belong bullshit is not a school I wish to attend, and sometimes my defiant values of NOT being part of anything and just being me can be very isolating. All of my heroes in life have one thing in common- they were rebels. They did not become part of some movement, in general, they created their own or railed against existing ones. I don't want to be a yoga person, cross fit person, vegan person, gluten free person, Trader Joe's person, greek yogurt person, dog person, or cat person. I don't want to be a thin person or fat person or a what's wrong with being just right person. I don't want anybody but me to decide whether I'm having it all, leaning in, or opting out.
I'm guilty of this (of course I am) because my blog can be prescriptive and I get excited to tell you about this latest thing or that latest thing, but this whole cult of influence thing is way past 11. Buy this. Wear this. Eat this. Is it me or do we no longer have free will along with our myriad of choices in life? I remember years ago I used to joke with my mother about her use of the word "they", as in "they say that new Italian place is fabulous" or "they say that nail salon is no good". I always used to say "who is this THEY you speak of"? Now that they, I'm afraid, is every single one of us, through every tweet, status update, and Instagram photo of our ramen burgers. We can't help but spread influence and although I love that we're in a democratic moment of self expression, I somehow feel misrepresented, and for someone who likes to march to one's own beat, it's becoming exceedingly muddled. I'm a bit over all of the box checking about what I like and what I don't and who I am and who I'm not.
I'll tell you what. I still like to color outside of the lines. And I admit I find comfort in generic pursuits like Gap sweaters and pumpkin spice lattes. I guess we all want to belong; just maybe not too much. I'm missing the misfits, the mad ones, the outliers (No, Miley. You're not one of those. Sorry). Hats off to those still blazing trails- it's getting harder to walk a path that's never been traveled before, or one that hasn't been shot for the NY Times or someone's Instagram feed.
Cause that's what's up this free to be not you, but me kind of Monday in the cult of everything. Yours, in individuality. XO