My last post on feminism sparked some great discussion in the comment section, and I wanted to follow up today on one of the tangents that came up/out of that: influencer culture. While not everyone might agree, I think this is a topic worthy of rigorous, academic analysis. I am, clearly, not the person to deliver that; but I do have some thoughts to share, and I would be interested in hearing yours.

I have been blogging since the mid-2000s in various forms (and on this blog since 2010) so I have had a front row seat to the influencer phenomenon almost from the beginning. I don’t follow many influencers (monetized bloggers, vloggers, or Instagrammers) on social media for personal reasons, but I follow some of the public discourse on their comings and goings when it surfaces on sites or platforms that I read/follow. For me, reading about how the public interacts with and views influencers, and vice versa, is more interesting that any content that the influencers directly put out. I recently watched This American Meme, a documentary on Netflix that looked at the lives and careers of several social media influencers of varying descriptions, which was similarly fascinating in a kind of anthropological way. In other words, I’m interested in what influencer culture means to and what it says about our Zeitgeist. But, as I said, I am not qualified to put forward any theories on that score.

So, let’s talk about my personal thoughts on influencers.

I mentioned that I don’t follow many of them. The people I follow on social media are typically friends, celebrities whose work (acting, music, etc.) I enjoy, or people who have either a well-defined personal style identity that intrigues me, or who share some of my (fairly niche) interests. Because major influencers develop their “brand” based on securing the widest possible appeal, they rarely fit into either of the latter categories; they also don’t typically produce work outside of their social media content, so they also don’t fit into what I call my “celebrity” bucket.

Let me give you a pertinent example. As you can probably tell, I have fairly strong opinions about how to dress myself, so I am not looking for people to tell me what to wear or how to wear it. I’m inspired by people who have their own aesthetic, whether similar to mine or not, because they make me think about clothing in a critical and creative way. With a few exceptions (such as Man Repeller), I haven’t found many big-time influencers who maintain a unique “voice” in this regard. Influencers are all about trends, but (by and large) they don’t originate them or engage with them in a critical/theoretical way. For the most part, I don’t care about trends; but if I wanted to know the “hot new thing”, I would look up the current issue of Vogue.

This isn’t a criticism of influencers, per se. Blogging, and style blogging in particular, was largely a reaction to traditional forms of media like fashion magazines. I started blogging myself because I wanted to talk about style from a non-Vogue perspective. Of course, with the evolution of blogging, some influencers are now trying to position themselves as fashion industry insiders … in my opinion, with mixed success. Not everyone can be Anna Wintour.

That being said, my general motto is “live and let live”. Influencers deliver a service which the marketplace has determined to have value, and plenty of it at that. You and I can debate the relative merits of late stage capitalism, but I don’t think it’s fair to blame its ills on a group of individuals who are not responsible for its institutionalization. And, anyway, that’s a whole other conversation.

There is one thing that bugs me about influencer culture, though, and I find it a more common phenomenon at its fringes. It’s entitlement.

Entitlement annoys me in all its forms— and I say that as someone with sufficient self-awareness to know that I am not immune from it – but this particular version drives me up the wall. Here’s an example I saw re-posted on an account I follow.

Where do I begin? First, as I wrote before, feminism is not a value system. I am not required to support someone’s choice simply because we are both women. What I support, fully, is her (and everyone’s) right to make a choice. If that choice is to become an influencer, cool. But if the person is, by admission, putting out mediocre content then no one should feel obliged to engage with that content or assist them in making money from it; feminism doesn’t come into it.

I know how hard it is to create interesting and relatable content; I struggle on the daily. It’s probably even harder to come up with good marketing copy masquerading as interesting and relatable content. But that’s the service which the marketplace has decided has value – a new twist on traditional advertising methods. If it was easy, why would people pay a lot of money for it?

I also understand how much it sucks when someone is creating content, and that content doesn’t “land” with their audience – when you get no comments, no likes, no engagement. You know that GIF of Russell Crowe from The Gladiator where he yells “Are you not entertained?” I’ve re-enacted it in my mind on more than one occasion … but I’ve also had to accept the fact that nobody owes me a reaction. In any exchange – commercial or otherwise – both parties are free to evaluate what they’re getting out of it and whether it’s worth the effort. If my content isn’t getting the engagement I want, then I have two choices. Stop putting out content. Or put out content that gets the engagement I want. That’s about it.

Honestly, I don’t know why this type of “call to action” pisses me off as much as it does. I know there is a gender aspect to this – influencers tend to be women – and I have tried to question my own unconscious biases. Would it bug me as much if a man had written it? I would like to say yes but I can’t be sure, especially since this is the kind of thing I’ve only ever seen written by women. “Just a hard-working mama trying to support her family.” Hi Karen, newsflash: most of us are doing that, thanks. [Also, let me pause here to say that having a family is a choice too. And guilt-tripping some stranger because of family obligations that person didn’t thrust upon you seems pretty anti-feminist to me.] I don’t know, maybe it’s just the contrarian in me, forever hating being told what I ought to do. SOME OF US JUST ENJOY LURKING ON INSTAGRAM, OK? Ahem.

I think some of this goes back to the roots of blogging and its evolution. Blogging was, in the beginning at least, the antithesis of Big Media. It was personal. It was meant to create authentic connections between people who might never meet in real life. Bloggers became influencers precisely because their audiences felt that they “knew” them and trusted them. Advertisers saw that trust, and decided it was worth monetizing. And, thus, influencing became a business. Which is cool. But, as a blogger, you have to pick a lane. Are you a person sharing their life with the world, or are you a business? There is nothing wrong with either option, as far as I’m concerned; but the rules of engagement are different for each one. It strikes me as disingenuous to try to pick and choose one’s approach depending on what best suits one’s interests in a particular situation.

So, after writing a meandering behemoth of a post, let me turn it over to you: what do you think of influencer culture? Are you an influencer? Do you follow influencers on social media and, if so, what do you think about the services they provide? Do posts like the above bother you, or do you feel they’re justified?

I have been on an Austen kick lately, and slowly watching my way through the more recent adaptations of her novels. That, combined with the return of Game of Thrones, has inspired me to make this a regular feature on the blog over the next few months. Every Friday, I will be sharing my Deep Thoughts on what I’ve been watching that week and what I plan to watch next (in case anyone wants to play along at home). Join me for some light-hearted pop culture chat, wontcha?

This week, we are talking about the 2-part 2008 adaptation of Sense &
Sensibility. Or, as I like to call it, the One Without Col. Brandon. I mean, ok, yes: there is still a Col. Brandon in it, but it’s not my
Col. Brandon (RIP, Alan Rickman) so it basically doesn’t count. But this is a fantastic adaptation nonetheless, and I am here to persuade you that you have to see it. Join me as we talk through it!

S&S is the story of the Dashwood sisters – the sensible Elinor and the impetuous, romantic Marianne – who are forced to leave the comforts of their genteel upbringing after their father dies and the (entailed) estate goes to their half-brother and his harpy-ish wife, and who must learn to navigate the now-dangerous waters of the marriage market with little more than their wits and charm. Next to Pride & Prejudice and
Persuasion, this is my favourite Austen novel – just edging out Northanger Abbey from my top 3. Austen was a keen observer of Georgian society, particularly on the socio-legal issues of interest to women, namely marriage, familial dynamics, and estate planning; her observations are sharp, but sympathetic to her subjects, and often edged with humour. In that regard, she has a lot in common with my favourite Victorian (English) novelist, Anthony Trollope. It’s easy to look at their work as proto-rom coms, and miss the social commentary simply because it isn’t as “on the nose” as modern audiences might expect, and because they were attuned to the social issues of their day (not ours).

It goes without saying that the benchmark for S&S adaptations is the 1995 Ang Lee version – just as the 1995 BBC adaptation is the benchmark for Pride & Prejudice. Comparisons in this case are unavoidable, but before we get to that, let me say a bit about the series as a whole. It’s a pretty faithful adaptation of Austen’s novel, and the roughly 3 hour running time is just right; the only part I felt was a bit rushed was the Marianne-Brandon bits at the end, but as we have already established, I wasn’t too particularly invested in those. It’s beautifully shot, and the costuming is lovely; though I
can’t speak authoritatively on its historical accuracy, it looked “right” to my eyes.

One common criticism of the series I have read online is the “sexing up” of the story through the opening scene, which features a
relatively graphic seduction bit. Don’t let your imagination run too wild; we are talking at best, PG13 stuff. It does feel out of tune with the rest of the series, which never again tries anything so unorthodox – unless you count Edward Ferrars cutting wood (not a euphemism) in the rain in a soppy shirt as racy stuff. I suppose the intent of that opening was to show the reality behind the things that are otherwise only hinted at by the characters but … eh. I don’t watch Austen adaptations for bodice-ripping material, so I could take this or leave it.

OK, now on to the important stuff.

How do the main characters stack up against the 1995 version? Well, for the most part … better, actually. This is not a criticism of any
of the 1995 actors, all of whom are super talented and all that. It’s just that, when you stop and think about it, with the possible
exception of Kate Winslet, all of them were far too old for their parts. And that even goes for Alan Rickman, who was in his late 40s
playing someone who was supposed to be mid 30s. [I know, I was surprised to realize that too. Marianne acted like Col. Brandon was this ancient guy when he was, in fact, younger than I currently am. Oh, to be 17 again!] I adore Emma Thompson, and she completely nailed the beats of Elinor’s emotional journey, but she did not look 19 (!!)
in any way shape or form.

The actors in the 2008 version are an improvement; they’re all still too old, but within the range of what I would call “Hollywood’s idea of young people”. Hattie Morahan (Elinor) in particular impressed me
so much, because she had one of the hardest jobs – making people forget Emma’s performance. She succeeded, in my opinion. The subtlety of her facial expressions was wonderful; Elinor is a reserved young
woman, but it’s imperative for the audience to be aware of her inner turmoil. Charity Wakefield as Marianne was ok; she did not improve on Kate’s performance, but she acquitted herself OK. She didn’t have a
lot of chemistry with either of Willoughby (Dominic Cooper) or Col. Brandon (David Morrisey), which took out much of the wind from the sails of her overall storyline. I have thought about this a lot, though, and I think the main reason why the 1995 movie was better in this regard is Rickman’s performance as Col. Brandon. Neither
adaptation spends a lot of time showing us the progression of Marianne’s change of feelings towards him; in fact, one of my
complaints with the 1995 movie is that we don’t spend more time watching that romance blossom – honestly, I could watch Alan Rickman read a book for hours. Anyway, my point is that we are invested in
their relationship because Rickman totally makes the audience fall in love with Col. Brandon in the first few scenes, after which all of us are just waiting for Marianne to wake up and figure out the obvious.

Or, if you’re like me, secretly hoping that Elinor and Col. Brandon realize that they are actually meant for each other. Don’t @ me. It’s at least 50% of the reason why I can’t quit Love, Actually no matter how many times someone trashes it in a (mostly true) think-piece. [Side note: I am still mad about the whole cheating subplot. My Col.
Brandon would NEVER.]

Ok, but you know what was really, really great about 2008 S&S? Edward Ferrars. I know, I know. Edward Ferrars, a top Austen hero? Said no one ever. But, in this version, it’s true. Don’t get me wrong; Hugh Grant was attractive enough as Edward, but he really leaned into the reserved, wet blankish side of the character. 2008 Edward, as played
by Dan Stevens, is a different story; he’s reserved and honourable, yes, but also funny and charming, and a bit moody. As with Elinor, you sense there is a fire smouldering under the prim and proper appearance. Also, hello, when did Cousin Matthew become a total smoke show? I sat through 3 seasons of Downton Abbey wanting to throw things
at his and Lady Mary’s heads (a more tortuous love story I have never seen, honestly), and never felt any particular spark. Half an hour into S&S, I was, like, damn Elinor – get it!

Come to think of it, we also spend a lot more time with Edward, and see more of him and his actions, in this adaptation than the 1995
movie, which helps to show his character to good advantage. We see his backbone in dealing with his atrocious family, and his inner conflict over his feelings for Elinor. For all that, I am ready to forgive the wood chopping scene, which is corny as hell. [Also, Colin Firth did the wet shirt thing better – sorry, Dan!]

Last and, sadly, least: Col. Brandon. No one was going to top Rickman’s performance, but it seemed like no one involved with the
2008 production even tried. Morrisey’s Col. Brandon is dour and hardly speaks at all. And, sorry for being wholly superficial, he isn’t nearly sexy enough to make up for all that. If I were watching this adaptation as my first introduction to S&S, my assumption would have to be that Marianne decided to settle for the security of a rich older
husband after her escapade with Willoughby – and not that she finally found the love of her life.

Your turn: share thoughts about 2008 S&S in the comments. How did this version stack up against the 1995 movie for you? Were you as thirsty for Edward Ferrars as I was? And can anyone ever top Alan Rickman’s
Col. Brandon?

Next time, I will be tackling the 2009 adaptation of Emma – my least favourite Austen heroine. Should be fun. And next week, it’s Game (of Thrones) on, Baby!

Return of Vaguely Edwardian Goth

When one thrifts a frilly shirt, Edwardian Goth is on the menu, you know? In fact, it’s the whole menu. This H&M blouse is not my most versatile choice, but it really suits this particular niche in my aesthetic, so I had to grab it and play with it. It’s going to be interesting to see if I can update it for a more modern vibe, but it works in this current context very well. This was quite a popular outfit at work – which is to say, my boss/friend told me I looked really nice on two separate occasions – which makes me happy because it’s certainly on the edgier side of business casual.

Jolly Green Shorty

I thrifted this Workhall dress back in February and can you believe that I was able to wait this long to wear it? And they say I have no patience, pfft! All kidding aside, this is a really nice dress – falls nicely, feels comfortably roomy, and doesn’t require special laundering. What’s not to love? The colour is somewhat outside my comfort zone; it may seem strange, but I struggle with finding shades of green that feel right, so I tend to just avoid the colour altogether. This shade is pretty good though. It’s bright but doesn’t make me feel squirmy in my own skin – know what I mean?

Whenever I wear green, I tend to default to black as my neutral and … no surprises here. This Sarah Pacini vest continues to be one of my most beloved wardrobe pieces; it goes with everything. The outfit as a whole is as basic as they come, but it’s the details that make it special. The sheen of the leather (with pleated pockets!), the draping of the dress fabric, the statement necklace.

Navy Surprise

A while back, I realized that I don’t love navy nearly as much as black; faced with both, I always pick the latter. I decided to avoid the unnecessary duplication of staple pieces, so I cut navy as one of my staple neutrals. And then … plot twist! I spotted this pair of navy Cartonnier trousers at another vendor’s booth at the Wardrobe Exchange secondhand market a couple of weekends ago, and decided that I needed them in my life. This is my current preferred style of pant, and these were only $20 … look, I’ve made worse decisions. I may have been influenced in that decision by this coral-and-navy Joie top I thrifted a while ago because it was on sale ($3!!) and because it was the middle of winter and the pop of colour looked so nice … Ahem. So, basically, another impulse decision. This is starting to sound worse and worse, not better, yeah? One impulse decision driving another one – oy vey! But, hey, the resulting outfit is a really, really good one, yeah? So let’s just focus on that.

Mod, Baby

The Joan Watson Effect remains in, well, full effect. I’m still experimenting with shorter hem lines, so when I spotted this faux suede Wilfred shift dress at VV for $7, I decided it was worth a shot. Apart from the length, the texture was a bonus – I like mixing different materials, especially in unexpected ways. And I am starting to rediscover brown. I spent years avoiding it like the plague, but I am finding myself drawn to it a lot lately, especially paired with black. This outfit is a good example of how nice that can look. The Zara coat and Tod’s suede boots are both thrift finds, and each add a bit of flair to the “lewk”.