Alternate Reality, the One on My Screen
"Reality isn't worth perceiving."
How can we truly let others perceive our realities through a 6-inch screen and a tastefully filtered feed? This article from NBGA questions how our IG feeds mutate our sense of reality and, consequently, our sense of self. Curated moments are gone the instant they flash across our screens, and we’re on to the next with the frustrated flick of a thumb. Sure, you could take the aesthetic and perform it on your own: white taper candles, pastel plates, your most attractive friends with a hint of palatable edge. But you still won't achieve what happened there when you saw that photo: a promise of happiness, a careful aesthetic without effort.
NBGA uses the monochrome, chic loungewear trend created by Yeezy as a case study: "This isn't 'life-inspired' fashion culture, it's curated and algorithmic." What we're actually realizing is that aesthetics, as we define them now (a way to live, dress, eat, and work), are fragmented forms of reality.
Inspired by life? Sure. But are they honest? Far from it.
These aesthetics don’t allow you to be multiple things at once. Just ask the cottagecore TikTok gals, for example, whose livelihoods (in the form of sponsorships) depend on proof that their ears know nothing but the scratch of vinyl and their feet nothing but some lace-up heeled brogues. The algorithm thrives on consistency, second only to a pretty face and a nice body.
When Kylie Jenner reigned supreme on Instagram, she inadvertently birthed the desire for consistency on our feeds with what would become known as “Instagram Face”. This particular look slowly took over, the most impish of early bloggers becoming pouty-faced, monotonous vixens. The filters, meanwhile, have adopted AI-level technology that changes our faces in real-time.
Gone are the days when this look required hours of makeup and one perfect, static shot. These filters are eerily realistic, going far beyond the cartoonish filters first popularized on Snapchat. Bridge of the nose narrowed, apples of the cheeks plumped, upper lip and eyes enlarged by 1.5 times, a wash of a tanned, ethnically-ambiguous skin tone, and you're set!
Actually, you're not. The "fox eye" trend, hollow cheekbones, carefully placed freckles, and an impossibly smooth skin texture are amongst the many variations that you can find scrolling through the makeup and beauty filters available on IG.
These filters often feel ridiculous when we try them on ourselves. Seeing them on influencers, however, is an entirely different thing. Even the most “real” Instagram models pick the best lighting and the most careful angle for their “casual” posts. Quite naturally, we use them as a standard for what’s beautiful, what’s attractive.
This indeterminate line between envy and admiration keeps us from even batting an eye when our favorite influencers use these feature-altering filters from time to time. There’s a casualness with which we view these minor tweaks: a strange desire to defend total strangers, creating lies on their behalf to explain their changing features... “They just overlined their lips! It’s really easy, try it!”
Sometimes these defenses are warranted. People, especially women in the limelight (in the bluelight?), are constantly scrutinized, reprimanded, and policed for what they choose to do with their bodies. No one should feel the need to explain what they’ve done to change their appearance and for what reason.
The issue doesn’t lie in the notion that the body is sacred and shall not be touched. Instead, the issue lies in what is the intentional fragmentation of reality. These ever-changing ideals come from a society that makes trends out of body parts and gets to cherry-pick their favorite features from otherwise “undesirable” ethnic groups.
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The impact of these trends isn’t anything new. The pressure to change our appearance according to the white cultural norm of the time is an unfortunate constant of our lives in the digital age.
I remember being 12 years old, sitting in the cafeteria, our towering cis-male gym teacher leading that week's health class on body image. It was as unnatural as it sounds, but I still remember how shocked we were to see the way this brunette model with textured skin and oily patches slowly became the flawless, perfectly symmetrical face I was already used to seeing in magazines. Hundreds of photoshop swipes and a time-lapse later, she looked nothing like the conventionally attractive woman from before. Instead, she looked as she was supposed to. It was unsettling how wrong and right it felt at the same time.
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In cosmetic surgery clinics, that shocking subtlety is repeated on a more permanent level. But gone are the days when nose jobs were widely denied. We have a new appreciation for cosmetic surgery not only for the way it can change lives (e.g., resolving debilitating deformities or previous botched jobs), but for the perceived gentleness it has reached. We've gone beyond even the most praised of "tastefully-done" nose jobs like those done on Blake Lively and Ashley Tisdale — which were really only deemed as such thanks to their otherwise Hollywood-approved features.
"Tweakments" are the new trend: routine lip injections, brow lifts of just a few millimeters (à la Bella Hadid), and small doses of Botox administered every few months.
The goal? Achieve a natural-looking face that accomplishes the impossible: never aging while keeping up with ever-changing beauty trends. The real goal? Re-brand existing procedures as minor beauty treatments akin to a facial or a mani-pedi. Make consumers feel as if this is just another treatment they can tack on to their monthly self-care bill.
There's no shame in getting work done—until there is (for you). But let's call it what it is and stay aware of the changing faces on our screens. Things get tricky when we delve into this alternate reality, ready to dole out money to finally (and ultimately, never) look "normal.”
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