The last thing in life that I want to be called is basic. As you might be able to connect from my previous post about main character syndrome (it’s right here in case you haven’t), I like doing cool, interesting, and rather “main character” things. For those less familiar with the young person vernacular, “basic” was the hottest insult in my middle and high school days (the 2010’s). From the “basic white girl” uniform of Lululemon leggings, Ugg boots, and a Starbucks coffee, I developed a strong abhorrence for the term “basic”. Partially influenced by the fact that I never fit that typical pretty girl mold, I fully embraced a life of going against the status quo. Small kudos to Kenny Ortega for giving my generation a catchy song about breaking the status quo (High School Musical, 2006). Taking pride in doing things girls didn’t usually do, I sauntered into high school in dark hoodies, sweatpants with only black coffee. No cream, minimal sugar. But as with all high school trends, this anti-basic behavior was vaguely defined and a very loose rule I followed. Some of the basic creeped back in. The craziest thing was I barely noticed and mostly didn’t care.
So here comes the big question of this blog post, what basic and mainstream things do I avoid like the plague, and which do I accept? And most importantly, why?
Let’s establish something of a baseline. Consumers crave customization and authenticity. In my influencer marketing class, my professor gave me these nuggets of wisdom that we spent all semester unpacking. We love custom products, products as unique as we are. From customizing your Chipotle order to buying coasters with your dog’s face etched into them (yes, I have those), American consumers love getting exactly what they want in the way they want it. But we don’t want something that is fake. Fake is just as bad, if not worse, as “basic”. In an environment oversaturated with content, authenticity can be hard to come by and thus has become a creator’s greatest asset. Gen Z has developed a particularly robust authenticity detector and #sponsored radar. This expectation of customization and the prioritization of authenticity combine into something rather simple. We want to be unique and different from others. For me this stems from a desire to accurately represent who I am. I am unique and different.
If you can check off more than one diversity check box, then you probably feel the same way. In a heteronormative and white-centered society, it doesn’t take much to feel different from the mainstream. So as any rebellious twenty-something would, I made that core to my identity. It took something big for me to finally change my unconscious, default behavior into intentional decisions that contributed to this idea of being unique and different. A global pandemic would do the trick. Faced with a harsh reality, isolated with just me and my thoughts, I noticed parts of myself that didn’t feel like the real me. Why did I wear clothes that I hated after 6 months from fast fashion retailers? Why was I working as an unpaid intern doing something I hated? Why did I like men? My pandemic spiral is not the focus of this blog, but you get the general idea. The pandemic shook me to my core. Whatever survived that pandemic identity purge was a lot more authentic, celebrating my uniqueness instead of repressing it. So, I started acting on it. In my behavior I began showing the world things that I believe to be true. 1. As a queer, biracial woman I am different. 2. Different is a good thing 3. I still hate the idea of being basic.
If we were to unpack my entire identity crisis this would turn into an essay instead of a blog. To narrow it down, I’ll give you two examples: reality TV and underwear. What a sentence, lol.
During a time when new TV shows were far and few between, I did a very basic thing. I watched Love is Blind (premiered on Netflix in February of 2020). Before I lose all credibility, I’ll explain that this is the only reality dating show I have actively followed because I actually did want to know if love is blind. How else to satisfy my craving for authenticity than watching people fall for a voice instead of a face? During a time when we couldn’t see faces in person, it was practically irresistible. I also love drama and I’m a hopeless romantic. However basic this was, I drew the line in pandemic TV at Tiger King. Absolutely not. Regardless of boredom, the memes I didn’t understand (FOMO is real), and the scandal of the show, I refused to watch it. This might all seem frivolous to those who watch TV as background noise or who exist outside of the entertainment industry, but as someone who lives, breathes, and works in TV; it’s everything.
As a quick overview, I’ll share something I learned in a workshop from All Things Insights where speakers from VoxMedia and WarnerMedia presented on how content defined today’s consumers. Avoiding the sharing of exact statistics because the only bias I’d like to share in this blog is my own, they concluded that the TV content we consume can reflect and confirm identity in the same way social media or music can. By watching Love is Blind I was acknowledging that I identify with those seeking love and a little drama. For me, Tiger King did not fit my vibe and I didn’t want to associate with it, much less have it represent something about me. If you want a deeper picture on the way TV represents my identity, check out my recommendations here. If you can’t tell, I skew a little nerdy, rather gay, and towards a perspective I would call “youthful”.
Acknowledging that not everyone cares about TV as much as I do, let’s talk about underwear. Specifically, custom and non-mainstream underwear. Before the pandemic I was a strict user of Fruit of the Loom. A value 10-pack that gave you 2 bonus pairs and a guaranteed fit with every single-color pair. In high school, I got the pack with grays and blues. Life-changing stuff. While everyone else was converting their wardrobe to 90% leisurewear during lockdown, I was revamping my underwear collection. I use the word “collection” because anything other than a Fruit of the Loom bikini cut was truly groundbreaking. In line with a need for customization, I went with MeUndies. With a rotating selection of crazy prints to choose from, super soft fabric and a subscription plan that made it affordable enough, I began collecting. From Wonder Woman to smiling dim sum dumplings, it brings me a shocking amount of joy to wear such ridiculous patterns that nobody can see. My underwear is fun now, just like me. My newest pivot is Woxer. Women’s boxers were something I never knew I needed. Even my simplest black pairs are massively comfortable and just do something for my gender euphoria. An intersection of the masculine and feminine while still having the utmost practicality and comfort, my underwear once again aligns with my personal identity. Maybe I’ll get a sponsorship deal out of this blog, that would be dope. I’d still buy the underwear either way. That’s an authentic customer folks.
Beyond these two incredibly specific examples, not everything I do is as strongly tied to my identity. I do plenty of stereotypical things and lots of things I don’t bother to make 100% aligned with my identity because at the end of the day, that’s way too much effort. Also, identity is always changing, but that’s for another blog post. I still drink Starbucks like the simple Washington-born person I am. I own squishmallows. I wear rings, cuff my jeans, and dream of owning a Subaru (if you know, you know). I wear Converse, Adidas, and all those other clout inducing brands. The push and pull between what society says you want and what you actually want will never cease. Capitalism won’t let it.
Overall, I think it is the conscious decisions, the changes, that we make in our lives that indicate our identity to others and confirm it to ourselves. Everyone cares about different things, that’s why consumers seek customization. Most people under the age of 30 (don’t quote me on this number) are so concerned with how other people perceive them, that’s why authenticity is valued and hard to find. It’s easy to succumb to the mainstream. To do what everyone else is doing. But it’s in the battle with the mainstream that allows someone to declare their uniqueness. Call Gen Z “different” all you want because that’s the exact thing that drives our collective identity. We don’t want to be like other generations. We celebrate differences, and we make it an active part of who we are as people. So, maybe you should too? Have some deep thoughts of your own about identity and the choices you make as a consumer. We’ll talk again soon.
Authentically,
Amy Chin
I took the selfie below right after I finished writing this. Just in case my authenticity was in question.
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