Lately i find myself consumed with the overwhelming sense of 'sameness' i wake up, check Instagram, eat, check Instagram - peering into these Little squares of filtered, over exposed and well engineered perfection has forced me to upload religiously. I carefully plan shots, take the time to organise my makeup and jewelry in well thought out positions but for what? I find myself worrying that my timeline doesn't look uniform, should i have uploaded that green plant next to my red lipstick? Is my timeline representing 'me'.  It wasn't until I really stopped to look that i'd realised i'd fallen into a pointless spiral of Instagram induced anxiety.


Absorbing finished master pieces with every haphazard swipe of our thumbs has become common practice. The blurred and pixellated image has become far more real to us then the vision beyond our smart phones. Anything without a heavy contrast or clean white space stands out as wrong.

The world of instagram forces us to strive for a ideal that just isn't obtainable. Our lives (well certainly not mine) just aren't structured like well thought out lay plans. We don't always eat beautifully crafted meals and we certainly don't have immaculate outfits all through out the day - more often than not come 1pm and I'm covered head to toe in dog fur (the joys of pet ownership).

So why the need to pretend? The pressures to capture hourly snapshots of faux idealism only tarnishes the grand narrative of what could be a promising new story. What message do each of us as individuals want to send? Are we kidding others or lulling ourselves into a false sense of utopia.

I'm tired of seeing perfection, perfection covers any remnants of a underlying story. More and more I feel myself becoming distant to the world of social media, peering into my instagram' feed is like gazing into a White picketed fenced Cul-de-suc - the grass is always green and the neighborhood appears uniform. 

Is this the pinocle of the blogger, refined to the constraints of a conformist aesthetic. Slaves to the unwritten dictates of the Instagram code, she who places inanimate objects on white surfaces wins. Dare to divert and face the bitter rejection of the unfollow button.


I'm not immune. I too find myself gravitating towards the cooker cutter stencil. I too want things to be just right, to be a certain way, but why is there a unwritten rule that one way is the right way? Has all this unspoken need pushed us into a corner and refined us to our little neatly executed 640px x 640px boxes or is there still life beyond the filter?

Charlotte x
 Lately i find myself consumed with the overwhelming sense of 'sameness' i wake up, check Instagram, eat, check Instagram - peering into these Little squares of filtered, over exposed and well engineered perfection has forced me to upload religiously. I carefully plan shots, take the time to organise my makeup and jewelry in well thought out positions but for what? I find myself worrying that my timeline doesn't look uniform, should i have uploaded that green plant next to my red lipstick? Is my timeline representing 'me'.  It wasn't until I really stopped to look that i'd realised i'd fallen into a pointless spiral of Instagram induced anxiety.


Absorbing finished master pieces with every haphazard swipe of our thumbs has become common practice. The blurred and pixellated image has become far more real to us then the vision beyond our smart phones. Anything without a heavy contrast or clean white space stands out as wrong.

The world of instagram forces us to strive for a ideal that just isn't obtainable. Our lives (well certainly not mine) just aren't structured like well thought out lay plans. We don't always eat beautifully crafted meals and we certainly don't have immaculate outfits all through out the day - more often than not come 1pm and I'm covered head to toe in dog fur (the joys of pet ownership).

So why the need to pretend? The pressures to capture hourly snapshots of faux idealism only tarnishes the grand narrative of what could be a promising new story. What message do each of us as individuals want to send? Are we kidding others or lulling ourselves into a false sense of utopia.

I'm tired of seeing perfection, perfection covers any remnants of a underlying story. More and more I feel myself becoming distant to the world of social media, peering into my instagram' feed is like gazing into a White picketed fenced Cul-de-suc - the grass is always green and the neighborhood appears uniform. 

Is this the pinocle of the blogger, refined to the constraints of a conformist aesthetic. Slaves to the unwritten dictates of the Instagram code, she who places inanimate objects on white surfaces wins. Dare to divert and face the bitter rejection of the unfollow button.


I'm not immune. I too find myself gravitating towards the cooker cutter stencil. I too want things to be just right, to be a certain way, but why is there a unwritten rule that one way is the right way? Has all this unspoken need pushed us into a corner and refined us to our little neatly executed 640px x 640px boxes or is there still life beyond the filter?

Charlotte x

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