If you want to go running, an oversized T-shirt and shorts from your high school PE class won’t do anymore. You need Hokas, a vest (even if the run is only 3k, you definitely need a vest) and those cute Nike shorts with a cut that shows just the appropriate amount of your butt. If you want to cook a meal, instant noodles with an egg is not enough; now, we make noodles from scratch and harvest bok choy from our garden.
It feels like everything we do nowadays is incomplete if we don’t own the assets needed for the activity, to then show off online. Hiking equals gorpcore, so you need Arc’teryx, Patagonia, North Face and Salomons. No one cooks regular meals; people are private chefs or have private chefs. With the surge in trad wife/homestead content, I suddenly feel bad for not making cornflakes from scratch when I wake up sleepy at 7am before my cafe job. When I come home from said job and want to relax, again it feels like I need certain products to do so: a journal (best if Moleskine), air humidifier (best if from Muji), something to play music on (best if a record player).
If you don’t attain certain things, you can’t sit with the runners, the hikers, the cooks. It seems like even the most mundane things in life (we need to cook because we need to eat!) are suddenly… exclusive.
Some of these activities have always been expensive. Sports gear has always been ‘spenny, because it’s made to be durable. Same with cooking equipment: Le Creuset didn’t become expensive overnight. But the way we think about obtaining these assets has changed – and the culprit is, as always, social media.
My dad used to run a lot and I remember him saving up for months to buy a pair of his dream shoes. When I worked in a restaurant, I remember cooks showing off their new knives like prized possessions. But these days social media feeds us content that makes us believe we need to have things – mostly expensive things – for certain activities, as opposed to when people would invest in things gradually and thoughtfully.
Social media algorithms, still shrouded with uncertainty, favor people with money. We have always liked watching people who have money: that’s why we still have royals, grew up watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians and follow influencers. The problem is, while everyone is aware that the Kardashians are paid a lot of money for their show, you – a regular TikTok scroller – don’t know whether that person with a stainless steel pan you saw making the most perfect omelette on your FYP is a) rich because their parents are rich, b) got that pan from a sponsor, c) just bought it themselves because they genuinely enjoy cooking, or d) is literally making money off of you watching that video with the stainless pan. Social media blurs the line that makes us feel like even though we’re far from Kardashian level of wealth, that’s okay. Now every second person on our feeds seems so much richer, and it messes with our heads.
The algorithm acts as a ‘friend’ that adjusts to what we like, and every FYP is different. But can we control what we’re being fed? Should we feel bad for being drawn to lavish lifestyles? I don’t think so. We have always been drawn to exclusivity. Some people spend their whole lives trying to get on the Hermès list to buy a Birkin bag. Wanting nice things is not bad; wanting nice things, especially in this economy, is totally understandable. We deserve nice things! But we should not feel that only owning these things allows us to run, hike, cook, etc.
The problem with reversing the damage done by social media in fostering this ‘exclusivity’ for even the most mundane things, is that it works for everyone in the capitalist system we live in. It profits TikTok for you to spend more time researching which Lululemon leggings to buy, it profits Lululemon when you buy the leggings and it profits the influencer, because obviously you bought them through an affiliate link. Did I mention that capitalism sucks? This exclusivity surge usually doesn’t end with getting just one pair of Lululemon leggings, either. As you’re continuously being fed the content, you’ll want to buy more and more.
I don’t have the answers for coping with the feeling that you’re not part of the ‘cool exclusive club’ that you see online, but I can recommend… going outside. I know that sounds trivial but as long as we keep scrolling, we won’t realise that this is a very edited way of living. Instead, go for a walk wearing off-brand track pants. Cook a meal with a friend on a pan that their parents got them for their wedding. Start doing something before buying the expensive asset you (apparently) need. Running, cooking and relaxing should not be exclusive, they should simply be fun.
