Cringe Culture
Get over it.
Before We Begin —
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Death of Cringe Culture —
What comes to mind when you think of the word cringe?
To me, it’s a kind of weaponized term that’s held me back — as a creative, as a person — and is the reason I’ve shelved many, many projects and ideas. Vancouver’s been my city since I was a kid — I grew up here, where, despite our insanely beautiful surroundings, people are often viewed as stoic and judgemental.
Our fashion bubble, though blessed with a world-renowned shop, can feel quite hostile. The stares and whispers at every event — or even just walking through one of our more culturally-buzzing neighbourhoods — it’s exhausting. My anxiety has only heightened since the pandemic, and I resort to chewing gum to help ease my mind in social settings, or even when I’m running daily errands.
Now, as my interests and wardrobe shifts, my anxiety also shifts, and its only grown since starting this Substack:
“Do people think I’m cringe for what I cover? Am I ridiculed behind closed doors for not being as well-versed compared to other writers?”
These are all thoughts that come to mind whenever visiting a shop, walking through certain neighbourhoods, attending events, etc.
You eventually burn out. It’s not because of how much work you’re putting in, but the incessant overthinking and stress over — what I see now as — the most minuscule of things. Cringe — fuck that, and all connotations behind it. Well, at least when it comes to putting yourself out there to succeed and grow, both personally and creatively.
