At the office late last week, a debate raged on about a certain piece of clothing. The fact that a single photograph of a dress — one that seemed unflattering to begin with, to be quite honest — could split the Internet into two camps revealed to me just how much free time some people had on their hands. While those online argued about whether the image depicted a blue dress with black lace fringe or a white one with gold lace fringe, I sat out the debate. I had writers to chase, stories to edit and deadlines to meet; taking part in the discussion would’ve been a bit unwise. Besides, it was unclear what I was going to get out of it.
In happier, less busy times, I would’ve been one of the first to join the fun. But as the consumption of information becomes speedier and more intense than anything seen before, thanks to social media and mobile phones, keeping ahead — or at least keeping abreast — of pop culture has reduced what was once an amusing hobby into a chore. If only I could get into my Tardis and retreat to 2008 to Rickroll myself, I would. I need to recover that moment.
FEAR OF MISSING OUT
Perhaps the fear of missing out is to blame. In order to stay on top of things, I’ve organized the websites I check regularly into a routine, covering music, style, travel, décor and pop culture. It used to provide me a sense of order and connectedness, as if I had equipped myself with the essential pieces of information I needed that day. Years of repetition, however, have sanded it all down to dullness.
Now, I don’t need to check Oh No They Didn’t to know that there will be a post about Hilary Duff walking to or from somewhere. Neither do I have to monitor my Tumblr dashboard to find out that someone is ranting on about the general lack of social justice in the world. And don’t get me started on the annoying way BuzzFeed and Upworthy write their headlines. (Sample: “Two lesbians raised a baby and this is what they got.”) I can visualize those with high definition clarity.
Maybe I’ve become horribly jaded, but pop culture today seems even cheaper, triter and more predictable. Apart from the occasional curveballs that warrant an “Oh really?” before you sigh and move on (Justin Bieber for Men’s Health? Calvin Harris in Emporio Armani underwear?) most news items evoke a sense of familiar disappointment and call for a mere “And so?”
FINDING A REMEDY
To find a remedy for this ennui, I’ve decided to go back to the core of what makes me tick. I realize that while I still love pop culture, I’m attracted to my version of it — if that makes any sense. I go for what people aren’t talking about, things that are far from turning into memes.
While searching for new sources of comfort, for instance, I stumbled upon the British TV series Cucumber and Banana, and also enjoyed non-newsworthy documentaries such as one about Canterbury Cathedral and another about the Medicis of Florence. While House of Cards is excellent, from what I hear, I can’t appreciate something that too many people are into. I tend to feel claustrophobic.
On the viral phenomenon that was #TheDress, Wired wrote: “This fight is about more than just social media — it’s about primal biology and the way human eyes and brains have evolved to see color in a sunlit world.” In hindsight, I don’t think I would’ve agreed that the dress was gold and white, blue and white, blue and blue or blue and black. The punch line I would’ve offered, to echo the normally exasperating Jaden Smith, is that there is no dress. You were all wrong. Game over.
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