I've been lying to you. Sort of.
Everything I write here is true—as far as I know. But I’ve been inauthentic. I’ve been trying too hard. I’ve spent more time polishing turds than turning those turds into roses, and this is how I know: Man Repeller posted an article today noting that, on Instagram, iPhone photos get more likes than photos taken with professional cameras. It’s true. Some of the most popular accounts are the ones with the worst photography. I mean, the worst.
“These pictures aren’t even good!” I bark before giving a reluctant double tap.
That’s the point.
As it turns out, people recognize (and prefer) realness. At least, the suggestion of it.
While I take all my photos on an iPhone, I can’t bring myself to post a photo to Instagram or Plush without first making several tweaks in several photo editing apps. What can I do? I like my ideas neatly wrapped. I won’t be changing my style of photography because becoming less polished would, ironically, be less authentic for me. But I will speak to you more frankly.
I’ve always written to impress you, but today I’m writing in my own voice. It may not sound much different, but it’s a totally different experience as a writer. This is just a chat with an old friend.
So, old friend, let’s talk clothes.
Everything I write here is true—as far as I know. But I’ve been inauthentic. I’ve been trying too hard. I’ve spent more time polishing turds than turning those turds into roses, and this is how I know: Man Repeller posted an article today noting that, on Instagram, iPhone photos get more likes than photos taken with professional cameras. It’s true. Some of the most popular accounts are the ones with the worst photography. I mean, the worst.
“These pictures aren’t even good!” I bark before giving a reluctant double tap.
That’s the point.
As it turns out, people recognize (and prefer) realness. At least, the suggestion of it.
While I take all my photos on an iPhone, I can’t bring myself to post a photo to Instagram or Plush without first making several tweaks in several photo editing apps. What can I do? I like my ideas neatly wrapped. I won’t be changing my style of photography because becoming less polished would, ironically, be less authentic for me. But I will speak to you more frankly.
I’ve always written to impress you, but today I’m writing in my own voice. It may not sound much different, but it’s a totally different experience as a writer. This is just a chat with an old friend.
So, old friend, let’s talk clothes.
Specifically, fabric. There’s no better fabric to address authenticity in than denim, right? Indigo dyed and stiff 100% cotton... The fabric is literally and figuratively unyielding. It does not pretend to be anything other than what it is. In fact, it’s incredible how little the blue jean has changed in appearance since its conception in the late 1800s. It was designed for hard work. Maybe that’s why I feel, when I’m suited in it, enfolded in some postmodern armor—equipped to brave errands and socializing with energy to spare when my own exuberance fails me.
When something defies the passage of time, like a vibrant lock of hair from a loved one long gone, you feel as if the past exists in the present. Any old thing can be a time machine. Any ritual can be a time machine. Buttoning denim at the waist is the same ritual my favorite rebels performed in my favorite time periods. I’m transported into the time of greasers, hippies, and punks, all at once. Even people I don't identify with, like the cowboys I live and work with, wore and wear them still. And we probably share the very same feeling in a pair of jeans. Common ground, no matter how small, is still common ground.
I guess that’s what authenticity does. It gives us something real to hold and share. I think I’m ready to share.