Artificial

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EDITOR IN CHIEF AINSLEY MCRAE // EXECUTIVE PRINT EDITOR ELLA NORTON // EXECUTIVE DIGITAL EDITOR FRANCESCA MILHIZER // FUNDRAISING COORDINATOR MIA MICKELSEN // WRITING EDITOR SYDNEY SEYMOUR // COPY EDITORS RILEY KENNON, BEATRICE KAHN & SYLVIA DAVIDOW // PHOTO EDITORS MARY GROSSWENDT & SAMANTHA JOH // ILLUSTRATION EDITOR KAITLYN CAFARELLI // DESIGN EDITOR STELLA RANELLETTI // BLOG EDITORS KATIE MCKECHNIE & KELLY KLEINBERG // MUSIC EDITOR ANNALUISA CARRILLO // (NOT PICTURED) EXECUTIVE PRODUCER NATALIE ROBINSON

Artificial

Music possesses the ability to transport us into an artificial realm of emotions, sensations, and narratives. Through its melodies, harmonies, rhythms, and lyrics, music constructs a parallel universe where we can temporarily escape from the confines of reality. It paints landscapes of imagination, evoking vivid imagery and stirring feelings within us that might not be readily accessible in our day-to-day lives. In this artificial world, we become characters in our own stories, guided by the cadence of the music.

Welcome to an artificial realm crafted by music—a diverse universe of subgenres, visionary artists, and timeless songs. From ambient melodies to pulsating beats, there is a place for all music listeners in the diversity of the artificial.

-Align Music Team

Tracklist

Something Goes Right.................................................by SBTRKT, Sampha White Noise...................................................by Disclosure, AlunaGeorge Bliss...........................................................................by Yung Lean, FKA Twigs

Into Your Heart..................................................................by Young Ejecta

Veridis Quo......................................................................................by Daft Punk

BB.................................................................................................................by shygirl

Baxter (these are my friends)....................................by Fred again..

We All Wanna Be Prince......................................by Felix Da Housecat

Migration Feathers..............................................by General Elektriks

Skull Pop..............................................................................by Guerilla Toss

More

Candy Claws witch house

Crystal Castles

SALEM

Pearly Drops

COUCOU CHLOE

New Beat

Sam Gellaitry

Blue Hawaii

Toro y Moi

Saada Bonaire

German Dance Rap

Ski Aggu

Yung Hurn

WRITTEN BY MARK MUNSON-WARNKEN

ART DIRECTOR EVA ROSE BRAZFIELD

PHOTOGRAPHED BY ELLA SIMPSON

DESIGNER ABIGAIL RAIKE

MODEL LILLIAN BARTLESON

Trelease Apple Vision Pro, revolutionary virtual Elon

another step of digital world” fluorescent screens, constant peppering of lifestyle recommendations and the advertisements that come with them.

“hey to data or the widespread pandemic? A shadow of uncertainty has crept into youth consciousness. It goes without saying that a lockdown of it that seems RGB of to know? Real or virtual? Natural or artificial? our

come at a cost; resounding isolation in tandem with consumerist ideation.

he release of the Apple Vision Pro, a revolutionary virtual reality wearable device, and development of Elon Musk’s brain-computer interface, Neuralink, mark another step towards the coalescence of human cognition and digital technology. Our “brave new world” revolves around fluorescent screens, a constant peppering of lifestyle recommendations and the advertisements that come with them. A click of a button or “hey siri” enables access to near limitless data and communication with friends or strangers across the globe. So why are we in the midst of a widespread loneliness pandemic? A shadow of uncertainty has crept into youth consciousness. It goes without saying that a worldwide pandemic and resulting lockdown is part of the equation, but with “restrictions” fully lifted, why is it that the world seems to be colored in an RGB hue, a twisted parody of what we used to know? Real or virtual? Natural or artificial? Society’s forced assimilation to our technological revolution over the last two and a half decades has come at a cost; resounding isolation in tandem with consumerist ideation.

Surgeon

Dr. Vivek H. Murthy conducted a study that found “one-in-two adults in America reported Americans

“isolated, invisible, and insignificant.” The same study found that Americans spend an average of mesmerized implications of this could not be more clear, our social networks have become tainted. However, social media was conceived to unite the masses and create meaningful change. TXTmob, the precursor to X was created by Tad Hirsch for

Republican National Convention. A social network created to share information quickly and

In 2006, NYU student Jack Dorsey developed Hirsch’s elementary idea and launched Twitter. Twitter was a novel idea; a digital apple in the cultural eye,

the first quarter of 2024, it’s clear that we are more divided than ever. The screens that were us created boxes that trap us, perpetuating the consumerist tendencies that we have willingly given up for the sake of convenience.

Prior to the 2020 pandemic, Surgeon General Dr. Vivek H. Murthy conducted a study that found “one-in-two adults in America reported experiencing loneliness.” Americans felt “isolated, invisible, and insignificant.” The same study found that Americans spend an average of six hours a day mesmerized by social media. The implications of this could not be more clear, our social networks have become tainted. However, social media was conceived to unite the masses and create meaningful change. TXTmob, the precursor to X was created by Tad Hirsch for the purpose of organizing a protest at the 2004 Republican National Convention. A social network created to share information quickly and conveniently, connecting us through lines of code. In 2006, NYU student Jack Dorsey developed Hirsch’s elementary idea and launched Twitter. Following Facebook and Myspace, Twitter was a novel idea; a digital apple in the cultural eye, representing instantaneous communication worldwide. However, as we approach the end of the first quarter of 2024, it’s clear that we are more divided than ever. The screens that were made to unite us inadvertently created little boxes that trap us, perpetuating the consumerist tendencies that we have willingly given up for the sake of convenience.

Our lives have been swept up by the algorithm, by fantastical lifestyles and worlds that captivate us into wanting more. The algorithm fabricates our whims, learning our habits and displaying “engaging” content to turn our brains off and keep us clicking. Algorithms have affected the core of our psyche, and by extension, our community. The experience of humankind has transitioned from the communal to individualistic, each person the protagonist of their own story. Greater humanity is imprisoned by the flashing lights and colors of our OLED screens, hypnotized by eight second injections of dopamine while the world continues turning and our self-agency disappears.

This phenomenon has blindsided us, our humanity stripped away, and what is left in the shells of our bodies is the blind desire to consume. Each day spent living out a derivative 20th century dystopian fiction. However, our current reality is the logical conclusion of centuries of capitalist culture combined with rapid technological development. America was founded on ideas of freedom, free will, freedom of expression and most importantly the free market. The normalization of consumerist ideation that started with America’s birth has bled from reality to the virtual and back again. In 2007 social media became monetized, resulting in the commodification of the human attention span for the first time. Our clicks became dollars, and our interests became data points for product recommendations. Social media morphed into a tool to transmit products through the guise of influencers who claim to be our peers. The worldwide lockdown exposed social media’s unlimited capital potential, regular people became influencers, seemingly overnight, capable of generating attention to both themselves and their lifestyles. Influencer marketing became the most lucrative marketing format, with many brands garnering mass attention through influencers alone. According to Statista, as of 2024, influencer marketing is a 24 billion dollar market from 1.6 billion in 2016.

As social media grew tarnished with transactionalism, a nebulous struggle arose between the conscious and subconscious mind. In 2024, we have decades of practice perceiving the virtual, our minds have become desensitized to the constant stream of advertising that we are force fed daily. With that in mind, how much of what you think you’ve stumbled upon organically is actually just another product of the algorithm? How much of the personality you’ve established is actually just another cog in the corporate machinery? The current state of the virtual landscape is a house of mirrors, distorted reflections of what one’s life could or would be like, if only they possessed a certain set of products.

It is no longer possible to leave the virtual landscape and remove ourselves from the constant feed without completely leaving the loop of culture and current affairs. While social media has manufactured a pack of Pavlov’s dogs of humanity, theoretically it should still be possible to recover from the addiction and escape the cycle. However, the social repercussions get larger every year with active users growing exponentially since its conception. According to Pew Research Center, in 2021 just under half of Americans get their news from social media, and to remove oneself from crucial societal information is arguably a selfish course of action. Though beneficial for mental health, self-imposed social media isolation limits one’s ability to have discourse about our most pertinent social topics. Our society has adapted to function on the premise of connection that social media has provided, however in its current state consumption and connection are tightly intertwined, mutually inclusive.

Humans are inherently consumers by nature. To function we require food, water, and shelter. However, with a climate crisis looming, has our awareness of it changed? Have we communally realized that we need to shift our nature and our self awareness for the benefit of our surroundings?

The experience of humankind has transitioned from the communal to individualistic, each person the protagonist of their own story.

WRITTEN BY ELLA NORTON ILLUSTRATED BY ANYA SHETTY DESIGNER ANNA CURTIS

The Building Blocks of Nature

When the Minecraft mania hit my elementary school, I was immediately obsessed.

I was captivated by the ability to endlessly explore, to build whatever came to mind, to alter the landscape however I wanted, and the never-ending options of adventure. While most people eventually aged out of their Minecraft phase, I embarrassingly did not. Even years later, escaping into a world I’ve created remains one of my favorite activities for de-stressing after a long day.

Because I use Minecraft to unwind, I often play in creative mode, building peaceful structures that reflect my cottage-core aesthetics. One of my favorite builds is a pond in the shape of a heart, with pink sand, cherry blossom trees, candles of every color, and filled with axolotls. Axolotls are my favorite animals in Minecraft, and it has bled over to my real life to them becoming one of my favorite animals. Recently, however, I realized that I’ve never actually seen one outside of the video game.

This is not an experience unique to me. In researchers Anne-Marie Cederqvist and Maria Impedovo’s article, “Minecraft as a Hybrid Boundary Object: Exploring Nature in Squares,” they found that several children were introduced to animals and landscapes through the game. One boy recognized dolphins on vacation because he had seen them before while playing Minecraft. Similarly, another kid said that their only experience with deserts was through exploring Minecraft worlds.

While this idea originally surprised me, it’s

not that difficult to believe. Many kid’s favorite animals - like polar bears, squids, pandasare hard to find at zoos and they’ve typically only seen pictures. But especially for today’s children, they’re spending more time in virtual worlds than they are in the actual outdoors. Yes, there are lots of negatives and consequences to this, which I’m sure you’ve all heard before. But Minecraft is also exposing children to new environments and, according to Cederqvist and Impedovo’s research, teaching children science content through playing.

According to their research, today’s children are exposed to newer ways of experiencing the physical world through methods like Minecraft. The game is a blend of the physical world in a virtual world; different elements of nature are represented through cubes. The boundary is blurred enough, that many children reported the game is similar to real nature, and said that they are able to recognize science concepts in school because of the game.

Yet, of course, it isn’t real nature, and player agency allows us to control and alter nature in ways that aren’t possible in the physical world. Players can change the landscape however they want, altering biomes, changing seasons, and setting specific times of day. Not to mention there’s fantasy elements like zombies, skeletons, flying, and completely made-up biomes like the Netherworld, or my personal favorite, Mushroom islands. Cerderqvist and Impedo found that this ability to manipulate the environment influences ecological representations and can add new layers to mean-making, or, how we view the environment.

One way is by helping them recognize the impact that we can have on nature. Players can see the destructive consequences of humans, our reliance on plants and animals, and how we need nature to continue as a species. As you learn in the game, if you don’t have animals, trees and minerals, it can be very difficult to survive. Because of this, climate change activists and educators have started to use Minecraft to teach children about sustainability.

According to Brenda McNally and Bruno de Andrade’s research article, “Altered spaces: new ways of seeing and envisioning nature with Minecraft,” the video game can be used as a visual medium to help players envision new ways of seeing nature and human relationships with nature.

In 2021, a coastal town in Ireland hosted workshops where young people could use Minecraft to find solutions to climate change issues that the community is facing. McNally and de Andrade found that many of the students’ ideas used renewable energy and nature-based solutions that worked with the existingenvironment. They also saw several ideas for parks, as a way to reimagine the surrounding environment as a space to connect the community towards itself, and connect the community to nature.

Overall, the researchers found that Minecraft has the opportunity to use its platform to help make abstract issues of climate change more meaningful to younger audiences. Around

the same time, the video game launched its Mangrove Restoration Project, an update that included the tree species mangroves and aimed to educate people on their environmental benefits.

The company, Mojang Studios, pledged to donate $200,000 to the Nature Conservatory, hosting charity live streams and creating educational information about mangroves, climate change, and the effects of C02. They also released “Rooted Together,” a free minigame where players have to plant mangroves to lower C02 levels in biomes and restore the natural wildlife.

At the end of the campaign, the company was able to raise $227,000 for the Nature Conservatory and created a documentary about their restoration efforts of mangrove forests that received nearly 800k views.

While I had originally viewed the mangrove biome as annoying because it’s difficult to travel across and there’s always a ton of mobs, learning the environmental benefits and why Mojang decided to implement them into the game, definitely made me appreciate them more. While Minecraft, or any video game, can never truly replicate nature—its complexities and beauties—the game does allow players to experience, and potentially learn, about different forms of nature. Even if it’s in the shape of a cube.

MEDICAL ACCESSORIES ON THE RUNWAY

Whether denoted as ‘secretary chic’ or ‘nerdcore,’ there is a proliferation of eyeglasses on the runway and in the classroom. Glasses, originally intended to correct vision, innately are accessories. Yet underneath their medical prescription, eyeglasses are a unique way for one to express their personality. How can a medically necessary tool become a trend? Warby Parker, a well known glasses brand, sells glasses without prescriptions. This henceforth allows the medical instrument to become an accessory for those who do not ‘need’ them. The convenience of donning glasses to capitalize upon the aesthetic of a librarian outfit is a luxury that not everyone can afford – monetarily and ethically. When investing in a medical accessory, the lines are blurred between fixing a problem and creating one. A transformation, evident in the wire frames of Miu Miu, spans beyond eyewear and into broader medical accessories and their role in fashion.

A central source of bespeckled inspiration in the cultural canon is “The Devil Wears Prada.” Gisele Bundchen cameos as an assistant in the magazine office. Her scene is now referenced on Pinterest boards and social media for styling glasses. The thin, wire-framed glasses of Miu Miu are reminiscent of “The Devil Wears Prada.” Jenna Lyons, the former Creative Director of J. Crew, now a star of the Real Housewives of New York, is instantly recognizable with her variety of glasses. Rarely

are women in the fashion world identified by their glasses (beyond the shades of Anna Wintour). However, Lyons’ iconic aviator frames evoke her personality and establish prescription glasses as an untapped accessory.

Sometimes, accessories are frivolous and unnecessary. Blue light glasses, a product marketed to address the dangerous light emitted from screens, were commodified in the pandemic. The downside of wearing fake glasses to achieve a ‘nerdy’ or ‘preppy’ aesthetic is that their intended purpose is overpowered by profit. By creating a market for eyeglasses, consumers, as with blue light glasses, flock to products. But, what if glasses are not an interchangeable accessory? The danger of artificial frames solely for aesthetics is that it threatens to reinforce the age-old stereotypes of glasses wearers. One need not look so far as the ‘nerd’ emoji, characterized by its large black frames and awkward facial expression as a global example of the influence of glasses on popular culture.

Another kind of medical accessory is appearing in avant-garde collections. Notably, Rick Owens debuted cast boots for his Spring/Summer 2024 collection. The boots are modeled after the leg casts patients receive when they break an ankle or a leg. Chunky black velcro straps protrude from the cast boot, with a thick platform supporting the feet. A single strap supports the exposed foot. A different version of the boot covers the toes with

open space on the side. By placing a medical device into the fashion sphere, critics and consumers alike are left questioning the ethics of buying and wearing accessories that were originally designed to correct physical ailments. A central aspect of casts and glasses is their visibility to others. The projection of ‘difference’ via medical accessories is bolstered by the option for friends and classmates to sign a cast. One on hand, these accessories serve as conversation starters, and can quickly become associated with the impacted person’s identity.

Are Rick Owens’ boots an appraisal of medical casts? Are Miu Miu’s non-prescription eye glasses a nod to the evolution of spectacles? As people grow accustomed to eyeglasses on the runway and on the streets, it is important to acknowledge the history of eyeglasses. Women were barred from receiving eyeglasses for almost a century –lacking the means to read or write, there was no use for glasses (Atlantic Eye Institute). Founding father Benjamin Franklin invented and popularized bifocals. The wiry glasses are perhaps a precursor to the ascending metal frames on runways and on the red carpet today. One need only look as far as Doja Cat’s appearance at the 2024 Grammys, donning glossy black rectangular frames hinged at the bottom of her nose.

To those browsing Amazon or Warby Parker for nonprescription eye glasses – will you wear your glasses when they are no longer a preppy accessory to compliment your tweed blazer and midi skirt? Were your blue light glasses effective in embodying a studious aesthetic? The option to wear eyeglasses, contacts, or artificial eyeglasses, as a purposeful style decision, is a luxury.

As Apple rolls out the VisionPro, the concept of eyeglasses expands into virtual reality. A contrast is deepening between accessories designed to improve the user’s experience, such as eyeglasses, and accessories, such as Owens’ cast boots, that possibly obstruct or hinder the wearer from walking. It is important to remember that eyeglasses, be it librarian-chic wire frames or chunky rectangles, have a storied history. For those with authentic eye prescriptions, eyeglasses transcend being accessories. The increased exposure to options for styling eyeglasses or leg casts creates unprecedented means of incorporating medical accessories into the fashion lexicon.

WRITTEN BY BEATRICE KAHN

PHOTOGRAPHED BY LULU DEVOULIN ART DIRECTOR DANIELLE COLLAR MODELS ELLA KENAN, GEORGIA CRESPY & KATIE LANTZ DESIGNER ANNA CURTIS

MAKE INSTAGRAM

CASUAL AGAIN

2021 was the year I really fell in love with photographing clouds — particularly while riding my bike. Growing up in the suburbs alongside a mob of other kids my age meant a childhood of hopping curbs and games of cops and robbers as the street lights flickered. I’ve spent all my life cruising around on two wheels when the weather was nice, and if I wanted to get out of the house, there was no destination required. So when I moved back home during my freshman year, spending the last two terms of my first year taking classes from my kitchen counter, getting out on my bike suddenly became my escape. Consequently, getting outside more intentionally fostered a heightened appreciation for nature.

If the pandemic taught me anything, it forced me to slow down and really notice the world around me. While riding around my neighborhood, I found myself observing my space — watching the way the clouds danced across the blue sky, the way the trails twisted and turned as I rode them through the woods — and taking time to stop and capture photos at any inspired moment.

This happened to be during a time when social media began taking on a new shape. An emerging trend was underway that allowed users to post these pure, unedited moments, even if they weren’t as exciting as my friends’ spring break destinations. Soon I began posting some of these random, haphazard stills of my life, and eventually I started picking up on a new term for these sporadic collections: photo dumps.

The photo dump can be described as a series of photos and videos posted as unedited, noncohesive, and seemingly random, typically reflecting sparse moments from the user’s recent experiences, no matter how simple or mundane. Many users began referring to these more informal profile slideshows as “dumps” as their creation came from simply “dumping” recent photos from their camera roll into a single post, emphasizing the notion of its lack of uniformity.

As one of the most widespread trends in the development of Gen Z’s approach to social media, the photo dump emerged as an answer to the influencer-led, picture-perfect dynamic that social media platforms like Instagram became known for. In many ways, Instagram seemed to serve as a platform to project life’s highlight reel, only displaying the most jealousy-inducing moments or carefully posed selfies with heavy editing, showcasing unrealistic depictions of everyday life. In spite of the stereotypical Instagram feed — filled with ultra-filtered bikini shots on the beach, clips of a packed EDM rave that your friend got VIP tickets for, or overly-manicured mirror selfies, retouched to perfection — the photo dump embraces a more natural, authentic approach.

The essence of the photo dump is rooted in its casual, raw, natural appeal, often without a specific theme or central narrative connecting the photos or videos. While the traditional Instagram style guide was all about the staged, the dump is all about

the candid, capturing the simple moments that surround us on a daily basis. One of my favorite photo dumps of my own includes unfiltered day-in-the-life snapshots from my own life — a group of pink clouds as the sun began to set, a blurry and awkwardly angled group photo of me and two friends at the bar, a shelf of multicolored pots in the back corner of a plant store with a the sun coming through the side window, even a funny black-and-white close-up of me and a friend from someone’s Ring doorbell camera footage. Whether the photos were meant to be funny, visually pleasing, or completely meaningless, they can give someone brief glimpses into ordinary life through my eyes.

Some up-and-coming apps have similarly tried to capitalize on Gen Z’s efforts to make social media more authentic and casual. BeReal, one of the most popular social networking apps today, centers around posting a photo of yourself, wherever you are, whatever you may be doing, at a random instant during the day. Friends get to see what’s happening in your life in a genuine, “real” way (hence the name). From watching TV to going on a coffee run to studying in the library, every daily moment remains organic, nothing pre-planned. No need to be impressive — just life as it happens, completely in the moment.

These captured moments can even display our struggles, a concept almost entirely foreign to the social media landscape. One recent BeReal post from a friend caught her gaping at the tragedy that laid before her feet — her entire bowl of chow mein and orange chicken from Panda Express spilled out all over the sidewalk (If you’re reading this, I am so sorry). As devastating of an event that must have been, these everyday tidbits are now normalized to hold a space in our profiles, and it can make us feel even more relatable to our peers than ever before.

People have historically used social media to teach people how to perceive them, and the traditional expectations of projecting their “perfect” lives through enviable vacation photos or glossy selfies have morphed into new, relaxed norms. We’ve spent most of our time on social media constructing versions of ourselves that don’t always reflect the people we really are the other 95% of the time, but photo dumps allow us to exhibit our ordinary lives unfiltered and more creatively, which makes for more entertaining content anyway.

In the age of artificial intelligence and the quest for idealism in the digital age, it’s reassuring to embrace our lives’ imperfections and foster a more relatable, humanized social media space. Collecting these random snapshots of life can increase our awareness of the little things in our world, challenging us to stop and notice. We can cherish the mundane for its beauty or the mistakes for their humor. We can appreciate these simple moments in life — that’s what the photo dump is all about.

WRITTEN BY EVAN HUNTINGTON ILLUSTRATED BY TAYLOR JONES DESIGNER AVA WISDOM

Thin frames, symmetrical faces, and zero wrinkles are some of the current beauty ideals–all of which are artificial standards that hold sentimental value in our collective consciousnesses.

When I was 14, I searched for ways to love myself by aspiring to become someone else. I compiled a list of cosmetic surgeries I would be sure to do once I reached the appropriate age. Now I ask myself how I reached that point– creating a list of things I wanted to ‘fix’ about myself, all before the age of 16. I desperately wanted to look like the models on my Instagram feed. They were THE beauty ideal. Sadly, this desire is common for young girls like myself. We are torn between two desires; yearning for realness yet diminishing ourselves when we fail to meet unattainable beauty standards. Could the plastic surge be a reason why?

In a 2023 report, published by American Academy of Facial Plastic And Reconstructive Surgery, Inc., “for females, facelifts (performed by 86 percent of surgeons) were the most requested procedure last year by a wide margin. The next most popular for women were nose jobs (“rhinoplasties” at 79 percent) and eye lifts (“blepharoplasties” at 73 percent).” Women specifically are held to high standards regarding beauty, and the influence of social media and the internet has arguably been heavily contributing to the increase in plastic surgery. But, why? Over 72 percent of Americans

WRITTEN BY DELANEY MCCUEN

utilize social media. According to the National Library of Medicine’s article, “Factors Associated with Likelihood to Undergo Cosmetic Surgical Procedures Among Young Adults in the United States,” “boosting self-confidence through improvement in body image is a major motivator for the use of cosmetic surgical procedure.” I believe this may answer my previous question of how I got to the point of compiling a list: my overconsumption of social media at a young age influenced my desire to alter my appearance.

Our feeds are filled with thousands of products. Some promising sculpted faces, some promising antiaging and some promising clear skin. Each serves as a constant reinforcement that we need something to look better and more importantly the idea that the consumption of these products will ultimately make us FEEL better. The constant exposure to said products increases the pressure to feel unhappy with our appearances. In return, we purchase more to relieve that pain. While we can’t necessarily escape the constant advertisements, we can reflect on the feelings they may create.

One way we can do this is by opening the conversation regarding the harm of both ‘unrealistic beauty ideals’ and ‘consumer culture.” I asked UO student Sadie Lin, 20, if she had any advice regarding authenticity for her younger self. She said, “I would tell myself how important it is to enhance my natural features. Instead of following trends or routines that are geared to specific individuals, create an authentic look that is specific to yourself. Being a person of color, it’s important to use that as a tool for my individuality, rather than to whitewash myself to

society’s ‘beauty’ standards.”

What do older generations think about the current climate of beauty ideals online? After asking a range of women from different walks of life, the insights varied. When asked if they wished society didn’t place so much emphasis on certain beauty ideals, my cousin, Taylor Jensen, 32, said, “Of course, I wish society embraced individuality more than just one style or look as the beauty ideal. I try to make my appearance based on what makes me feel good, although it’s hard when you scroll through Instagram or TikTok. It’s hard to not compare yourself all the time.”

And my aunt, Mary Lou Milne, 74, said, “Society does put a lot of emphasis on people’s looks, and it’s a shame. It’s not what’s on the outside that matters, it’s what’s on the inside.”

We rushed to grow up, and now we face another dilemma: how to show it. As I come up on 21, I am increasingly aware of aging. As are many other young women. However, I find that both Jensen’s and Milne’s responses prove that societal pressure affects us at any age.

Therefore, amid a plastic surge how do we find the authenticity and confidence we are seemingly searching for? Navigating young adulthood alone entails many uncertainties but it is important to recognize our individual beauty. And I wish I could tell my 14-year-old self to stop searching for myself in an artificial landscape.

ART DIRECTORS JILLIAN PEFFER & EMMA RUDDY PHOTOGRAPHED BY SALLY FINNIN

ELLA POOR & AJEWELINA DANIELS DESIGNER AINSLEY MCRAE

MODELS

F ILTeREd

“filtered”

WRITTEN BY BEAU GLYNN | PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHARLIE TOWNES | ART DIRECTOR SHAYNA PARKER | DESIGNER ALEX VINTON

In the game of social media, Snapchat took the cake in January of 2015 when it introduced filters. The dog ears and tongue that sprouted from that moment in history started a domino effect which would integrate filters into social media. Filters started being used in a multitude of ways — entertainment, beauty enhancement, or to add a subtle sepia-tone for a coherent Instagram theme.

The purpose of these filters vary across social media platforms. What started as simple animations on Snapchat in 2015, snowballed into the subtle beauty enhancements on Tiktok, from adding fake freckles to changing eye colors, users can even try out new hair colors or see what they would look like with a new piercing, all courtesy of the multitude of filters the app supplies.

Kyler Harrison, a 22 year-old who moved to Eugene in 2023, has a cohesive theme on his Instagram page. With photos filled with browns and tans, any colors he showcases in his posts pop out on his page, something he wants to draw focus

to. The way he uses and highlights color in his posts operates in a similar way to how filters draw attention to a particular aspect of a media piece. Harrison is drawing attention to the colors in the frame by editing in a simple color filter, in a similar way to how a TikTok creator would use a filter to draw attention to how they look.

“It tells a story, I think it’s exciting and fun,” Harrison said, “It shows my personality and the kind of art I want to express, like the colors can express how I’m feeling, whether they’re cold or warm.”

Maysee Russell, a University of Oregon senior, said some filters lure her into a spiral of endless scrolling.“I think the game filters are pretty fun, those get me,” Russell said.

“I feel like I’m always mindlessly scrolling, so when there’s something interactive that comes up, I’m pulled towards it.”

MODEL

MELODY MOSES

Russell also gave an example of how the use of a filter can fluctuate in regard to each particular app.“On Snapchat, sometimes I’ll use filters when I don’t feel like I look pretty, when I don’t feel good about myself. So when I don’t feel good about myself, I can put a filter on and fix those issues,” she said. “So that’s not a good thing to be thinking about, especially for younger generations who have been on their phone since middle school.”

Other students shared the same sentiments. Parker O’Tey, a junior, talked about seeing users on Tiktok setting seemingly unattainable beauty standards. “It can definitely create a lot of insecurity, I know for me, if I’m scrolling in a Tiktok hole and I see a lot of really hot people one after the other, it makes me want to go to the gym or use a face mask, something that’ll make me

P EREECT

feel better about myself.”

Russell said that she noticed subtle filters applied to videos on her catered For You Page, where she sees beauty influencers sharing their content.

“Coming from my fyp, there are a lot of beauty influencers doing their routines with retouching, the hazel eyes filter, just beauty enhancement filters in general.”

As beauty filters began to rise through the Tiktok algorithm, subtle retouch filters began to make themselves known. In 2022, Tiktok introduced their RETOUCH feature, where the app’s users could enhance their appearances without the need for selecting a separate filter. Russell said retouch had

expanded to other platforms.

“I just noticed that Snapchat came out with a retouch filter, you can select how much makeup you want to have on, or if you want to hide blemishes.

“I feel like there are definitely some filters that are useful,” Russell said, “I used the piercing filter to see which piercings would look good on which parts of my face.”

While there can be no shortage of filters across Tiktok, Snapchat and Instagram, there’s always a longing for something catered to each user. Russell said if she could create her perfect filter, it could be summed up in one word: glitter. Other examples from college aged adults included a filter that could read your

aura, and display the color on your screen, or a rainbow strobe light that would pulse along the beat of the song being layered onto the video.

Needless to say, filters have evolved to show social media users exactly what they want to see, transcending the now outdated puppy filter Snapchat unveiled in 2015. With a seemingly endless supply of options that could satisfy even the most particular vision a user has for their media content, there will always be a filter that can fit the role. Though, when mindlessly scrolling on the For You Page, beware of the subtle changes and the unattainable standards brought about by hidden retouch features.

You are front row at Madison Square Garden in New York, dressed in that new leather jacket and black sparkle skirt you’ve been waiting to wear for weeks. Your best friends are next to you, excited to see the Sza concert you have all anticipated for months. The lights dim and the announcer shouts, “Welcome to the stage… Michael Jackson!” That’s right. I said it. Michael Jackson. In person and on the stage at this very moment.

What if I told you that there is now a way to resurrect artists from the dead?

Recent technological advances now allow us to resurrect icons from various decades to perform live on stage again as holograms. To make this a reality, creators combine a reflective material called mylar with translucent surfaces and CGI to construct the holographic image. Because audiences can see through regions where the visual is not illuminated, the figure appears extremely lifelike–almost as if the screens have lost their physicality.

The first time a hologram performed on stage was at Coachella in 2012. Snoop Dogg was a headliner that drew in thousands of fans. At one point in the performance, Snoop exited the stage, the lights dimmed and then dead silence arose. The crowd fervently anticipated what was next on the set list. All of a sudden, breaking out of the darkness, Tupac appeared on stage. Crowds transitioned from pure shock to tornados of love, connection, safety, nostalgia, sadness, joy and honor. Nobody expected to witness the legendary Tupac come back to life. This experience became an iconic moment in music history. Tupac’s holographic figure acted as something from a dystopian science fiction novel. The ability to bring such an incredible idea to reality proves that anything is possible.

While the magic act is astonishing, there is controversy regarding whether the hologram is sensational or immoral. Supporters contend that witnessing their favorite artist in concert again allows for a second chance to relive a remarkable time in their lives. It keeps them feeling young, as the experience is timeless. Those who were not alive yet are able to experience these artists for the first time and empathize with those in older generations who were at the center of the fan base during the pinnacle of their career. Who knows? You may finally understand why your uncle talks too much about that one Whitney Houston concert he went to in the ‘80s, or why your mom has a never ending shuffle of Amy Winehouse during road trips.

Some fear, however, what negative implications the holograms may bring to actualization. For example, the Taylor Swift Ticketmaster incident left fans distressed as they were unable to purchase a ticket to the Eras Tour. The tickets were resold as extremely overpriced– so much so that it became unethical. Many fans were classified as lucky to have even obtained a ticket. With this in mind, technological advancements could allow Taylor to perform in two places at once. Her voice and actions would be identical, as if audiences were watching her together on both sides of the world. The opportunity exhibits society’s imminent achievements, however the authenticity of the mutuality between the artist and the fan would not be present. The objective of a concert is to immerse yourself amongst fellow fans and sing your heart out alongside your favorite artist live. Without the ability to marinate in such an enchanting environment, the connection could be fictitious.

The holograms allow fans to feel like they are honoring the icon’s legacy by keeping their spirits alive. The scientists who fabricated the holograms had motive to acknowledge fans’ emotions towards inspirational artists who had a colossal impact on their lives. While there are manyindividuals curious to see where the technology takes us, skeptics wish to eliminate the holograms completely. They perceive the figure as eerie and inauthentic. Additionally, it is difficult to encapsulate the essence of an artist’s entire career into one holographic performance. Should developers take from the artist’s early career, or from their final performance–creating the illusion that they never left.

Iconic artists possess a special factor that makes them so memorable. They are not just a memory, but a treasure that is kept sacred for centuries to come. Diminishing their authenticity takes away from that magic fans love and respect so much.

Ultimately, the fans are going to be the ones who decide whether holograms officially enter the music industry. Are they worth implementing? Technology will continue to improve, so where do we go from here? The future can be unpredictable, and whatever direction we take we must make sure we preserve artist’s legacies in the best way possible.

WRITTEN BY KAYLA CERVANTES ILLUSTRATED AND DESIGNED BY MICA DELGADO

WRITTEN BY CLAIRE CONGER ART DIRECTOR MARY GROSSWENDT PHOTOGRAPHED BY ZOE MAITLAND DESIGNER ABIGAIL RAIKE MODELS ELI PANERO, SOPHIA TRUITT & RUSSELL WILSON

Among health professionals, many parents, and some international food laws, red dye 40 is nothing but a health hazard. It can be found in the snack aisle among candies, chips, drinks, and other processed goods. Red dye 40 is a synthetic food dye made from Petroleum. It is banned in the United Kingdom, Norway, France, and Austria. But at its core, red dye 40 is the all-American magic that accompanied us to slumber parties, movie dates, late-night munchies, school lunches, and birthdays in the form of our favorite snacks and beverages. With it, we might be at risk for adverse effects such as childhood attention issues. But without it, we lose some of the moments that made growing up a sticky, crumby, cheeto-y miracle. With that, I give you my top 3 best moments of red dye 40.

THE SUPER BOWL

Speaking of all-American, the Super Bowl would be unrecognizable without red dye 40. The only things I want to put in my Super Bowl (pun fiercely intended) are snacks that include red dye 40 (AKA the good ones). But alongside the foods we provide for ourselves on gameday and the ones advertised to us in iconic commercials, red dye 40 has a much more influential role in the Super Bowl than we give it credit for. Fans who are familiar with Super Bowl traditions know that each year we take our guesses at what color of Gatorade will be dumped at the end of the game. Since the mid-1980s, this tradition has stretched and added another mark to the long list of Super Bowl bets we love to make. Our friend, red dye 40, can make it into the Super Bowl every year if the coach gets lucky enough to be drenched in Fruit Punch Gatorade. So take a chance on red dye 40 and bet on red.

THE MOVIES

Let’s move on to the sentiments. Nothing says adolescence like a first date to the movies, and you can’t go to the movies without stopping by the concession stand. Sweaty hands, pungent PINK perfume, probably a choker (if you also had your first date in the mid-2010s), and red dye 40 are all I needed on my first movie date. The culprit? Obviously the Cherry-Coke slushie mix and Red Vines. Not your thing? Red dye 40 was probably still involved in your first movie date if you enjoyed Bubbilicious gum, Starburst, or Skittles. When your date turned, and looked at you with that dead-eyed look our dates love to make before leaning in for a smooch, you bet that Red Dye 40 was there from the Altoid they popped just seconds before.

SLUMBER PARTIES

It was practically a right of passage to attend a slumber party during adolescence. These parties were formative experiences no matter how they went. The giggling; The Twilight Saga; the “I’ll sing if you sing”; and of course, the red dye 40. Slumber parties were about the secret trading just as much as they were about the adorable snacks we shared with our best friends through stifled laughter and parental begging of please, for the love of everything good go to bed. Alongside our aforementioned chips, sodas, and candies, we also celebrated with red dye 40 when we devoured Betty Crocker (love that woman) Red Velvet Cake, Pillsbury Funfetti or Yellow Cake, or Hersey’s Chocolate Syrup. One of the most magical moments of the slumber party was the morning after. Whether you were scrambling for sustenance or the parents provided a feast, red dye 40 sat groggily along with you in the form of Froot Loops, Fruity Pebbles, Lucky Charms, or Reece’s Peanut Butter Puffs.

As I doom scroll on my social media, I’m flooded by videos instructing me on perfecting my diet, lifestyle, and overall idea of health. I go to bed early, I drink (potentially too much) water, and I happily eat my vegetables. But in the end, when I inevitably live until my mid-100s, I will look back fondly at the years red dye 40 wasn’t even in my vocabulary, but a colorful cog in my childhood. Red dye 40 might not be the pinnacle of health (or even healthy at all), but just like acne, mood swings, and Hot Topic, the formative moments of our adolescence would not have been the same without it.

PARADISO GIRLZ

PARADISO GIRLZ PARADISO GIRLZ

ART DIRECTOR RONAN BECKIUS

PHOTOGRAPHED BY AUBREY JAYNE

DESIGNER RONAN BECKIUS

MODELS SUMMER DAVIS & ANANYA PANDIT

girlboss

Nobody did career catch phrases like the girlbosses of the 2010s. While everyone has the same 24 hours in a day, the she-E-O slays the day away, decides to rise and grind and doesn’t quit until she’s built a self-made empire of entrepreneurship. Needless to say, the girlboss of the 2010s is dead. She has been for a while. However, her life and legacy is one that, possibly unknowingly, still permeates our culture today. In a world of online expectations and subversions, the timeline and lasting effects of the girlboss will forever impact the conversations we have surrounding femininity, hustle culture and authenticity.

We all remember the idyllic persona of tomboys in our childhoods. Growing up in the early 2000s, much of Gen Z women share similar experiences of rejecting many forms of femininity. We were peddled the idea that to be a feminine woman is to be a bimbo; to wear pink and play with dolls means there’s an innate lack of intelligence in us. Being like boys was the ultimate sign of success, and that idea is one that grew and adapted as we did. As our generation grew up, female success often still meant excelling into roles mostly filled by men. The same girls who wanted to skateboard with the boys at 13 dreamed of being CEOs at 30. The desire to escape the criticisms of femininity as naive and aimless and hedonistic pushed us into that iconic girlboss mentality. Not to say that the wave of corporate feminism in the 2010s was fueled by a desire to be less feminine, but rather by a desire to be successful in the only way that was widely acceptable: the same way that men are deemed successful. We cultivated the desire to be women of wall street, clad in sleek power pantsuits while we authoritatively dominated our offices. This was the image of success that was sold to us. This is what we were taught to aspire to, with very little variation and very few exceptions.

Though girlboss culture burned bright, with any expectations naturally comes subversion. The drive to be successful, productive and entrepreneurial 24/7 was capitalized and commodified through aesthetics of self care, athletic brands and wellness culture. You had to take care of yourself so that you could rule over everyone else while wearing high end yoga pants and running on 37 morning supplements of who knows what. Every aspect of your life was meant to funnel you towards working. Obviously, this mindset isn’t sustainable, and leads to extreme burnout. Women everywhere became tired of these expectations, and began to reject and subvert the standard of the “grind-set.”

The idea of being a professional woman began to give way, before collapsing completely in pop culture discourse. There was a mass pendulum swing from self-imposed professionalism and responsibility to ideas of escapism, indulgence and defiance of societal norms. We saw this in every area of pop culture, including high fashion. Valentino’s Fall 2022 collection was iconic for introducing “Valentino pink,” a bright, almost neon shade that encompassed the entire collection. Creative Director Pierpaolo Piccioli describes it as a subversive, esoteric “liberation from the need for realism.”

Around the same time, in 2020 and 2021, the aesthetics of the bimbo and the coquette surged in popularity across media platforms. Both of these aesthetics focus on hyperfemininity and the expression of formerly criticized and demonized aspects of stereotypical femininity. The bimbo aesthetic focuses on a sexualized, powerful perspective of femininity, manifesting in bright pink shades and scandalous clothing; the idea is for women to empower themselves through taking charge of their sexuality. The coquette aesthetic, on the other hand, focuses more on the naivete of stereotypical femininity, including motifs of baby pink, lace, bows, frills and vintage accessories. Girls who adopt this style aim to reclaim traditional ideas of femininity that were rejected in their childhoods. Both aesthetics allow girls who have been forced into a strict perspective of womanhood to embrace girlhood, creating an escape from the expectations we’ve been taught to hold ourselves to.

However, reclaiming these aesthetics can often place us back in positions of putting money into the pockets of the same conglomerates and monoliths that gained from our consumption in the first place. As we explore various avenues of femininity, we must also pay attention to who we benefit through our spending, especially when it comes to purchasing goods to fit into various aesthetics.

At the same time, the responsibility placed on individual women and non-cisgender people to represent feminism and progression as a whole is an unfair, impossible task. Whether men decide to work a 9 to 5 to provide an income or decide to be a stay-at-home dad, they’re praised for their decision to provide for their families and are rarely criticized for their impact on the reputation of all men. Regardless of the ways women decide to embrace their femininity, from bright pink purses to pinstripe pantsuits, the responsibility of the perception of women should not and does not rest on the shoulders of the individual. I think that all of these avenues of empowerment can coexist, if they are explored authentically. Maybe the best way to explore femininity isn’t by chasing aesthetics; maybe it’s by discovering what makes you, individually, feel deeply comfortable in your own skin.

WRITTEN BY KELLY KLEINBERG ILLUSTRATED BY EMMA HARRIS DESIGNER ELLA KENAN

I d e n t i t y C r i s is

Since the beginning of the decade, micro-trends have been relentlessly plaguing our social media feeds, seemingly possessed by the ability to multiply faster than any bacteria known to man. The micro-trend of today bears no resemblance to the micro-trend of tomorrow, so just to keep up with the incessant stream you must consume, consume, consume. It seems the only constant in our fast-paced world is the internet’s ability to encourage tasteless consumption.

Take the resurgence of the “coquette” trend last year on TikTok as an example. To be “coquette” is to obsess over bows and Lana Del Rey, to covet Carel Paris

Mary Janes and Repetto ballet flats. By subscribing to the aesthetic parameters of a given trend, usually through direct consumption of products, one is able to signal their belonging to a group, to announce “I’m relevant!” Online, the desire to construct style–and subsequently identity–on the basis of an image, an “aesthetic,” is all-consuming. In an age steeped in “-cores” and Pinterest moodboards, one’s identity can easily become subsumed by trends. Artificial, superficial, vapid.

In the face of this, it’s not crazy to feel as if a crisis of identity exists online–that individualism has been lost to the digital age. And to an extent, it has. Where can

one find the energy to develop a sense of “personal style” with the algorithm constantly whispering into their ear? How is one supposed to define their sense of self amidst the hypercurated world of social media? It’s increasingly clear that the only way to carve out your identity (depending on how eager you are to give into what is popular) is by emulating and becoming a product of what you see online.

Online spaces inherently encourage a hyper-curation of the self. When you are online, you relinquish the power to control others’ interpretation of you, therefore you must provide them with information that aligns with how you want

to be perceived. You share only what you want others to see. However, within this process, you lose a piece of your authenticity.

Of course, your Instagram page cannot come to encompass your entire personhood–that would be impossible. However, the mere fact that you are able to curate your presentation in the first place means that you unconsciously create a rift between who you are online versus offline. It’s hard to be sincere on social media. Once published online with the intent of being viewed by an audience, every post becomes a spectacle. The internet stranger, with their panopticonlike gaze, makes one unnervingly selfaware of their existence to others, such that they must continually preen and prune their image in an effort to maintain control of it. Online, the performance of selfhood never ends.

at all. Nevertheless, even as perfect as this solution may seem, it’s still nearly impossible. Our modern lives are already so deeply enmeshed in the online world, that even if we deactivate all our social media accounts and attempt to scrape every post from the walls of the internet, we will never fully rid ourselves of our digital footprint. We’ll always exist on the internet in some eternal form, suspended in a digital ether of cloud data. Besides, it’s the 21st century. To close yourself off from the internet also runs the risk of isolating yourself from the rest of the world, too.

Without a way to completely disappear into the shadows of the internet, we are left with no other choice but to relent to curating our identity; if we exist online, even momentarily, then we must keep up appearances, because we never know who might look us up.

Considering this reality, it almost seems as if the internet operates like a malignant vampire, sucking the life out of every fiber of one’s so-called “authentic self” and leaving only a contrived, hollow version. Nowadays, it seems that the only way to avoid this performance of identity is to exist online in a state of anonymity, or better yet, not exist online

There is no other part of us that is so manicured, so carefully monitored and displayed, than the part we choose to show online. Much like humans were never meant to see themselves in such jarring detail through the lens of an iPhone camera, they were also probably never meant to view themselves through the dissociative, third-person lens of their social media profile.

For the easily disillusioned, it’s easy to observe the onset of this internet-induced identity crisis and lament that “true identity is dead, and the digital age has killed it”. However, to say so dismisses the hope that there may still be resurgence of authentic identity online–even amidst the bog of trend cycles. If one truly wants to break free from the claws of social media and disengage from the temptation to define themselves through online labels, they must interrogate their relationship with the internet: do they treat it as a tool to explore their tastes, or as a storefront to buy them?

Ultimately, the more we allow the internet to shape our selfhoods and determine our desires, the more we corrode our sense of autonomy and

agency. Likewise, the more we market our lives as if they were products, the more we are separated from our lives. We cannot buy our way into a sense of self, just as we cannot champion authenticity by following trends or by sustaining an artificial life on social media.

But, all this being said, is there even an alternative? Or should we come to accept the fact that the internet effectively functions as a second, wholly artificial reality to which we have lost ourselves entirely, and that our online self will always be there, peering over our shoulder, bleeding into our everyday life, haunting us.

WRITTEN BY EMESE BRACAMONTES VARGA

ART DIRECTORS JOSE CARRILLO & KE’ALI MCCARTER

PHOTOGRAPHED

BY KE’ALI MCCARTER MODEL SYRIS LINKFIELD DESIGNER AVA WISDOM

WRITTEN BY RILEY KENNON | PHOTOGRAPHED BY SAM BERRY | ART DIRECTOR EMMA BALLMAN | DESIGNER ALEX VINTON

Becoming Untethered

I’ve always sought comfort in structure.

Not the kind of small-scale structure that comes in daily routines, to-do lists, or knowing what I’m going to eat for dinner. I find peace in not knowing when I’m going to hunker down and complete an assignment, or if I’ll ever even make it to the gym that day. I never want to know what clothes I’m going to wear until they find my body, or what food I’m going to eat until it finds my mouth. I don’t think about what time I’m going to run that errand, or what day I’ll finally make it to the post office to return the package that’s been sitting on my kitchen counter for a week. Because I always get it done.

This liberty that I find in my tendency to lean into the “now,” however, has always been loosely confined by the ease in knowing what’s next in the long-term. I choose freedom in the day-to-day, or even the week-to-week, but this indulgence in autonomy is limited the same way a tether ball is to its pole. I never really cared about which way, or how high, or how fast, I swung because I knew I’d always come back to structure. I was tethered to the blueprint. My structure was in school years.

I always knew that after fifth grade came sixth, and that one day I’d be in highschool. I always knew that sixteen meant license, and twenty-one meant “legal,” with the same solace I felt in knowing

MODEL EMILY ROGERS

FORMAL GARDENING

my mom would always be fifteen minutes early to pick me up from dance practice. Every time. I always knew that I would end up in college, and that counting in months always made summertime seem closer. But I resisted to realize that one day the curtain would drop, and that eventually summer would be served with a side of unease. As a graduating senior in the spring, this summer will be when I unleash from my tether. And where I’ll end up is unknown to everything but the version of me that exists in every “now” that awaits.

It’s unknown if 23 will bring despair or ambition, and 26 may not bring marriage like it did in my diary. I don’t know when–or if–I’ll ever get married, and perhaps I may never even want to. But perhaps I’ll fulfill my picket-fence fantasies–the one with two kids and a husband that doesn’t make me want to sleep on the couch every night. Maybe I won’t get the job I’m telling myself I want, just because it coincides with the structure I’m adhering to right now. Maybe one day I’ll detach from everything I’m working for right now and start over. Maybe someday something else will make my soul sing, and maybe it will cause me to take a few steps “back.”

This blueprint is comfort-turned-constraint. The timeline that once gave me ease now encourages me to think everywhere but the “now.” Up until now, I’ve been tethered to the timeline, and time has brought me to each next predetermined step. There was nothing but forward. I didn’t feel the burden of needing to nudge myself to the next step in my path, because time advanced me through grades and phases. But now, now that I have become untethered, it is up to me to become my own catalyst to move on. Society has now imposed a sense of “backwardness” on my life, as if I am an object confined to a single plane of movement. Like my personal journey resembles that of a board game. We are shrouded with comparison of age, and made to believe that we are “behind” if we haven’t reached certain “milestones” by certain times. If we aren’t married “soon enough” then it turns into “too late.” And we’re supposed to travel while we’re young, but also kickstart our career, and also figure out how to find ourselves somewhere in between. But this backwardness that

I may feel–that we may feel–is just a figment of this tortuous “timeline,” because life doesn’t exist on a singular plane like I’d always believed it to. We are made to believe that we must live in benchmarks and blueprints, all inching closer to or further from our final destination. But where are we going?

Our souls know no age bracket. We are here and then we are not. Forty-two could mean first divorce or first time riding a bike. Success can happen at 9 or 90–and it can happen over and over again. We don’t exist in a linear fashion–we hold immense highs and rock-bottoms within us. We are on this earth, and then we are not. And everything that happens in between is defined by ourselves. Just ourselves.

STUDYING IN SWIMWEAR

Afew months ago, after a drunken night out, I lost my driver’s license, prompting a visit to everyone’s least favorite place- the DMV.

I entered the fluorescent hellscape, punched the ticket machine, and took my number. 162 Great. On this winter morning the DMV was packed, but then again, when is it not? I chose to sit in the back corner– a seat promising the least potential human interaction. And I immediately opened my phone. In fact, my phone was in my hand the entire time. Not in a pocket or a bag, but gripped where it was most accessible to distract me from the world. After a few minutes of aimless scrolling through Instagram, I grew bored and glanced up. Like me, rows of people stared at their personal screens, favoring isolated entertainment over human interaction. A mother attempted conversation with her teenage son who preferred the company of TikTok. A man spoke on his phone in irritated corporate jargon. An older woman was reading, notably, Cat’s Cradle. Though the room was physically near capacity, it was mentally deserted. Trill elevator music blended with the sparse mumble from the counter. The camera clicked continuously– its flash illuminating its sullen victims.

It was a sad scene, to say the least. And it got me thinking. When did this happen to us? How did we get here? A world where digital falsities outweigh human interaction. When was the last time I had a genuine conversation with a stranger? That I didn’t stare at my phone while waiting in line or after exchanging polite, yet empty, niceties with the person next to me. When did we become motorized vehicles of avoidance?

At the time, I was reading Patti Smith’s memoir Just Kids, which chronicles her time in New York City in the late sixties and early seventies. I tried to imagine what the DMV would look like then. Without cell phones, would I be talking with the man next to me? Sure, I could be doing a crossword or reading a book, but my odds of conversing during the hour wait would increase exponentially. Maybe the teenage son would still ignore his mother, but maybe he’d talk to the teenage girl a few seats away. Maybe they’d hit it off and get married one day. Maybe I’d meet my future partner or best friend in this DMV. Maybe I’d meet the person who’d connect me to my dream job. Maybe the older woman reading Cat’s Cradle would tell me profound insights that would change my life’s trajectory. How much do we limit ourselves by avoiding each other?

162! I made my way to the counter, provided my forms, and wondered what this woman’s life was like. What was her favorite movie, did she have a family, had she ever been in love? Had she traveled or been a spy or did she always want to be a DMV teller? “What brings you in today?” I longed to ask her the same question.

I sat for my photo. 3. . . 2. . . 1. . . flash. On my new license, I look terrified. A deer in the headlights of a bygone reality.

I returned to my life as an average, license-bearing college student. But each time I went to the bar or picked up a bottle for Wine Wednesday, I was confronted by my ID photo. I couldn’t stop thinking about the DMV. About the teenage boy, the man on the phone, the woman with the book. I couldn’t shake the feeling we’d lost something vital to society.

I started putting my phone in my bag when I went in public. I didn’t stare at it while waiting for my prescription to be called or before class started. In the thrift store, I asked the old man next to me what kind of book he was looking for. He grunted. I pointed to a tattered copy of A Secret History and said it was good. He walked away. Not everyone wants to connect, but you won’t know until you try.

Time previously lost to my phone is now spent laughing with strangers, turning classmates into friends, and absorbing the world around me. The world isn’t so scary when you welcome it with open arms. And it is so much greater than its insincere digital reflection. Because it’s real, and it’s right in front of you. You just have to look.

WRITTEN BY LAUREN BAUMER PHOTOGRAPHED BY SOPHIA GREENE ART DIRECTOR LIV GOBER DESIGNER HAILEY RYDMAN MODELS DREW TURIELLO & AMMA MANU

WRITTEN BY LAUREN

BULLARD

ILLUSTRATED BY AUDREY TYLER DESIGNER

ELLA KENAN

How Far is Too Far?

When I excitedly acquired tickets to a Tyler, the Creator concert in 2022, I planned what I would wear to the anticipated event for weeks on end. I knew the best way of showing my devotion as a fan would be through mirroring Tyler’s aesthetic. Thus, I scoured every shop I could find, raided my friends’ closets, and even contemplated hand making an outfit. I ultimately settled on a getup complete with pieces I accumulated over this hasslesome period: a button-up paired with a sweater, a mini-skirt, and my beloved Doc-Martens. When I arrived at the concert, it was apparent I wasn’t the only one that had this idea. I fit right in – the arena was arrayed with berets, sweaters, loafers, and the like. Everyone was a direct reflection of Tyler’s well-known persona.

Every other concert I’ve attended has operated in a similar manner: try to embody the artist’s style by any means necessary, whether it be through hair, makeup, or clothing. It’s all in good fun; it’s simply playing dress up for a special event. However, what does this trend of imitation mean for the fan-celebrity dynamic?

In the current day and age, where style has become increasingly important to the average person, it has simultaneously become an identity marker. It’s a vessel of attachment to whoever or whatever one pleases. It’s also too easy to guess who someone listens to just by the way they dress. To show an affinity for Lana Del Rey, fans accessorize with bows, lace, and baby pinks. Likewise, Beyoncé fans identify with a futuristic look – chrome and silver everything is uniform. It’s become easier to find a sense of connection with other fans who share a love for the same artist. It’s comparable to having an “in” that others don’t have, speaking a language not many others speak, or being in on a joke someone else isn’t in on.

A sense of connection can go deeper than a sense of style, of course. Fans may feel their favorite artist’s music truly understands them or sees a part of them no one else sees. Or maybe it’s because they simply find their online presence funny and personable. Above all, however, these connections are strictly parasocial and bordering on false. We’ll never personally know these artists we love, and they’ll probably never even know we exist. Don’t get me wrong, there are certain artists I love deeply. If I ever met them, it’d probably feel like I’ve known them for years. But this love is one-sided – they don’t know me. They don’t know what I find funny, what I hope for in life, or simply what color I favor. So why do we, as fans, feel such a strong inclination to devote so much time, money, and energy to these people who will never know us?

Sometimes, these connections can feel so personal that we lose any sense of morality and overstep boundaries. We might go too far to nurture this parasocial relationship. It could start innocently as dressing up like them, but then turn into suiting up for battle and logging onto Twitter to defend them from haters. This is the least harmful end of the spectrum – the extreme end is alarming. Paige Niemann, an Ariana Grande fan, took TikTok by storm in 2019 with her ponytail done up painfully high, pairing kneehigh boots with oversized sweaters, and an almost caricature-esque adaptation of Ariana’s mannerisms. Viewers were confused, shocked, and most of all creeped out. Niemann’s spoof even reached Ariana herself, to which she indirectly responded on Twitter calling impersonators degrading and bizarre. This isn’t an isolated incident; Ashley Lechin currently impersonates Taylor Swift through a red lip and side-swept

bang (and really looks like her – seriously, go look!). Or there’s even the extreme instance of Toby Sheldon, who spent over $100,000 on plastic surgery to look like Justin Bieber just because he adored him so much.

While most fans don’t take it to such extremes, the granule parts of an artist that a fan implements into the everyday aspect of their life come from a deep pseudo-connection. Taking on an artist’s style can make a fan feel like they are an extension of said artist, making it the easiest way to feel intertwined with someone you don’t know. Connecting to a music artist can feel so intense and personal, because they pour so much vulnerability into their work, and fans are able to indulge in this so intimately.

More so, when artists are placed on a pedestal, they’re idolized to the point that their humanity has been stripped. This enables fans to do things they wouldn’t do to a friend, or more importantly, someone who knows them. Emulating a favorite artist’s style is just one of the ways people contribute to fan culture, but it could even be considered the gateway to it all. After all, style is the first thing people see; it’s the first thing people are able to make judgments on, draw assumptions from, and make connections from.

A sense of connection to an artist is no punishable offense, because above all, it’s heartening that fans can deeply connect over the art they identify with and find community in it. However, it becomes a problem when someone loses their own identity in the process. Loving and obsessing over a figure so much that one’s individuality becomes tainted, or sense of self is blurred, means it’s time for some self-evaluation.

WHAT REALLY IS ARTIFICIALITY? ARTIFICIALITY?

Artificial perception of life. What does that mean? Artificial implies something that comes across as a false reality, according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Perception is the way someone views and understands what they experience based on their senses. Therefore, you could define the artificial perception of life as a false way of viewing reality.

The question is, how do we obtain these perceptions? What’s the true concept of artificiality? Is it about performance? Individual perception? Our generation’s obsession with the media? To understand more about these artificial perceptions, I spoke to seven University of Oregon students and one School of Journalism and Communications (SOJC) professor about the implications of false senses of reality.

SOJC instructor, Charlie Deitz, first posits that we need to define what reality is.

Deitz highlighted, “Especially in this era of hyperfetishized postmodernism, it’s hard to say what reality is. Every time you try to put your finger on it, it slides away.” He suggested that attempts to define reality inevitably led to the discussion of artificiality, or unreality, as Deitz puts it.

Thus, I continued the discussion by asking people’s interpretations of artificiality.

UO student Valeria Gutierrez spoke about how life is slowly becoming more and more like a simulation, which causes us to lose touch with what our reality is. “I feel like we are losing touch with the actual present moment because

WRITTEN BY MADISON DOOHEN ILLUSTRATED BY MADELINE DUNLAP DESIGNER STELLA RANELLETTI

we want to be so futuristic,” she said. “So that’s when artificial perception comes in and it twists our reality of what really is.”

When asked about his interpretation of artificiality, Luke Domenick, a GoDucks Creative, said that the education system is an institution that builds up artificiality. He thinks that the art of being artificial starts when you enter the education system.

“You’re being judged constantly,” and because of that, “you’re always trying to prove something whether it’s to your teachers or your friends. Everyone is, in a way, competing to be in a certain spot in life,” Domenick said. “Your classes and your social life, it’s kind of intertwined in terms of always trying to impress and be the person that the schooling system and society in the terms of your friendships are trying to be. Everyone is always trying to sell themselves to other people.”

A UO marching band member, Jake Henkle, said that artificiality is not about perception but “everything you interpret is your own interpretation.” Henkle said, “When you perceive things you perceive them in your own personal lens, so I don’t know how that would be artificial. What would be artificial to me are the things that you’re observing, them and their true selves aren’t being true and those are things being artificial... the artificial part would be other people feeling the need to be artificial.”

Deitz added, “The big question is, is performance artificial just by the nature of you wanting to do something with other people?” Deitz also said that “people are always tampering with a jury.” Jury, as in your peers. People ‘perform’ based on what they think their peers want to see and based on how

their peers act. The question is, what is deeply rooted in us that causes this performance?

Many interviewees shared that the fear of being judged, and the fear of embarrassment combined are the causes for this artificial performance. UO cheerleader, Anna Giroux, shared that there is constant pressure to conform to different stereotypes that surround you. Gutierrez said, “We’re still too scared to be our authentic selves because we are scared of how others will perceive us based on the stereotypes that society has already placed onto people and life in general.”

Similarly, student Will Bostick, talks about the stereotype surrounding college life: Greek life or die. Bostick said, “Coming into college everybody is here to party and not really focus on school but in reality, it is the complete opposite.”

Another student, David Erickson had an interesting perspective, “I heard a great quote from one of my favorite actors [David Lee Roth)] the other day who said, ‘life is just like a series of clubs.’” In high school you are in clubs, then you get to college, and you join Greek life or other clubs on campus, then even after college your neighborhood or the people in your workspace become your ‘club.’ The space that you inherit is the space that you value status in.”

just generally want to vibe, they want something out of you.”

Another area where students are noticing artificiality is inevitably on social media. Student Maia Vadun said, “Artificiality on media can negatively affect someone’s mental health because there’s this constant comparison going on.”

Echoing that statement, Deitz said, “Some people do want to be judged, but they want to be judged on their terms. I think wanting to be judged in a good light is just as powerful as not wanting to be judged at all.” On social media, people will post what they want people to see, whether or not it is the reality. Interestingly enough, Deitz revealed that “when people post to Facebook or Instagram, they’re actually really just hoping for responses from only three to five people.”

He also mentioned how connections with people are transactional. “There’s a lot of people you’ll meet who don’t

Although the aim of this piece was to expose the truth behind artificiality, the reality is that there is no right or wrong answer. You think and perceive differently than the person next to you does, differently than I do. I leave you, the reader, with a lot to think about. I leave you with the question of what the cause of artificiality for you is specifically. I hope that the perspectives from your peers help you find the answer. Artificiality is ambivalent: it’s not necessarily a negative, but it is also not always a positive. Again, it is up for interpretation. In the words of Henkle, “artificial sweeteners, that’s a substitute, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

WRITTEN BY LILI CALONJE

Appalling, confusing and completely captivating: words to describe the viewing of the 2023 film Saltburn, directed by Emerald Fennell. With perfectly casted film stars Barry Keoghan as Oliver Quick and Jacob Elordi as Felix Catton, Saltburn wonderfully portrays an uncomfortable tale of extreme wealth, leisure, love, and loss. Felix is the purposeful embodiment of everything we want to be: adored, rich, beautiful, and desperately wanted. The Cattons are the envy of all. As an audience, we leave the theaters hungry for a taste of their lifestyle.

The root of all fascination with this film can be summed up in one word — aesthetic. Every decision made by the filmmakers was done with intent. With the summer tones and soft, glowing light illuminating the faces of the characters, Saltburn incorporates all the necessary elements to create the perfect coming-of-age indie film that resonates so deeply with young audiences. The extravagant clothing and makeup paired with these visual elements come together to enchant us. One scene in particular has lingered in the minds of viewers — the tennis court scene. This scene includes main characters Oliver, Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh, dressed head-to-toe in lavish outfits that the common viewer would hardly

have an occasion for. The men are dressed in tuxedos while Venetia is decorated in a bright, sparkly, monochrome purple outfit. They throw on feather boas, silly sunglasses and waste the day away playing tennis and day drinking. It screams, “I am so wealthy; I can afford to do absolutely nothing all day.” Is this not the life we all dream of? Don’t we all want to lay in the sun with a bottle of champagne all day, every day? Or is there something missing from this?

The Cattons are quick to pull Oliver into their lives. They love the feeling of being admired by someone who could never achieve their extravagant lifestyle and desired social status. Upon first agreeing to take in Oliver, the Cattons all sit in the library while Elspeth fills in Pamela on Oliver’s supposed tragic past. What should be Elspeth and her family watching a movie in the library quickly turns into a gossip session full of exaggerations and a retelling of Oliver, the “poor boy’s” story. Oliver, being able to foresee how this ultra-wealthy family would perceive someone of his status, makes it his mission to mold himself into an indispensable member of the family. He succeeds.

Saltburn fans on social media love to theorize what this movie really means. Is this an “eat the rich” film? Is it a tale of a psychotic

PHOTOGRAPHED BY FRANCESCA MILHIZER ART DIRECTOR & DESIGNER AINSLEY MCRAE

bromance? Is it a vampire movie? What about all of the above and simultaneously… none? I argue the most crucial part of this film has little to do with the film at all, moreso the reaction to it. Why was it that after this film really picked up in December and January, there were more Saltburn theme parties and “Saltburn New Years Eve?” Why is a depiction of a Saltburn-themed winter just a TikTok of rich people showing off their mansions and luxurious vacation spots? Why do we want to partake in this trend so desperately?

Most of us are not billionaires. Not all of us can afford to live the lives the Cattons do. Yet many of us make it our mission to copy the wealthy — to dress “rich,” speak “rich,” emulate “silent wealth.” Saltburn may just be one portrayal of the extremely wealthy, but it illuminates the issues that come with living a life of exaggerated leisure. They all have the means to indulge in reckless and petty ways. They spend most of their time either partying or drinking at a bar. In theory, this sounds like an amazing way to spend a day and maybe even a week. In the end, the family is absolutely torn to shreds and left with nothing but grief and emptiness. It is easy to get caught up in the glamor, the wealth, the attention, the freedom, but is there not something of importance and fulfillment

missing in their lives? How long would it take to get tired of this kind of life and go in search of meaning?

It seems this family finds comfort in their lifestyle and judges themselves based on what they own, their social status, and their ability to engage in intelligent and sophisticated conversation. Is a life of being forced to find comfort and meaning in our possessions a desirable one? Is it not the quality of friendships and love around us that make life worth living? What could possibly define us more than the connections we make with others?

In the case of the Catton family and the indescribably wealthy, is leisure not violence? With money to solve the world’s problems, is doing nothing permissible? Is it their responsibility to fix the issues the average person cannot? How does the apathy of those who have power affect the lives of those around them? Does their lack of concern for the world burning sit right with you? Why does it sit right with you? In truth the question lies in whether it is fair for those who have this much money and this much time to waste it away. Is their indifference an act of violence?

Swiping Right on Authenticity

In modern society’s fast-paced digital era, dating apps have transformed the way we navigate the intricate maze of romance, providing a wide range of possibilities right at our fingertips. Singles can form a connection with someone simply by sending a quick message, or even just by swiping right. Although dating apps have expanded the dating pool and made it easier to meet people, they have also made it harder to have authentic connections because of people that abuse the system.

Online dating first stepped on the scene in the early 2000s, with sites like Eharmony gaining popularity. Eharmony used a compatibility system that matched people with others who had similar passions and interests. People liked the fact that all of these eligible people were suddenly accessible, and they didn’t even have to leave their home in order to connect! The original goal for these dating sites was for people to find their forever partners, and that is how people were using them at first. Later on, apps made it even easier to connect, like Tinder; all it took was a simple swipe right to show interest in somebody. With the increased easiness came the decline in compatibility because people matched with others solely based on a short profile and pictures instead of the “compatibility experts” like on Eharmony. Although making connections suddenly became a lot more accessible, it also became a lot easier to abuse the original purpose of these systems.

As these apps gained popularity, it started to become normal for people to meet someone online, talk to them for a bit, and eventually meet up with them in person. Many of these connections eventually fizzle out as both parties find other prospects on their respective apps. This is ultimately how “hookup culture” began because some people started to view these apps as a means of meeting someone solely for the purpose of having a physical, sexual interaction with them and then moving onto the next. According to Cloudwards, 26% of people on dating apps are not looking for commitment, and 19% talk to 11 or more people at once. This means that one in four people on these apps have no intention of starting a relationship, so those that are seeking one may end up wasting their time talking to these people.

The users who go against the mission of finding a long-term partner and seek one-night stands contribute to the artificiality of these apps. The Tinder experience starts with a few pictures and a short description of the person behind the account, and then the choice to pursue things or not by swiping right or left.

WRITTEN BY LILY MOCK ILLUSTRATED BY SYDNEY LACKEY DESIGNER MIA ROMERO

This is essentially judging someone based on how they look. This puts pressure on users to appear “perfect” on these apps because their first impression is heavily based on their physical appearance. This can lead people to edit their digital photos using Facetune or photoshop in order to paint this perfect image of themselves, increasing inauthenticity on dating apps.

Another downside of these dating apps is the increased focus on quantity over quality. Some people who use dating apps get so competitive with having the most good-looking matches that they tend to only focus on quantity rather than the quality of the people they are talking to. Although most would prefer to have one quality person to rely on over a handful of people chosen just for their looks, still, quantity seems to be the pattern that a lot of people on dating apps fall into.

While it can be difficult for relationship-seeking people to navigate these apps, it is not impossible. There are definitely people who have been able to foster successful relationships from apps like Tinder and Hinge. Take our very own executive writing editor, Sydney Seymour, for example, who actually met her boyfriend on Tinder.

She said, “In the fall last year I was at work, and I kept noticing this guy who would come in every now and then. He struck up a conversation, but I didn’t see him for a bit after that. A week later, I was on Tinder just for funsies with my friends when his profile popped up. I recognized him, so I swiped right.”

Since most dating apps use location-based technology, users are matched based on proximity, so it’s not uncommon to run into a profile of someone familiar in the area or even a friend. In Seymour’s case, Tinder helped bring them together when they may have otherwise never acknowledged that they were both single and a match.

When meeting someone in person, it’s easier to gauge their intentions of the interaction, whereas online, one might find themselves investing time in forming a relationship only to discover the other person just wants a hook-up. With that being said, not all hope is lost in the online dating realm. There really are people out there genuinely seeking a long-term partner, but it’s much harder to grasp someone’s intentions over an app versus in person. Face-to-face interaction might be more likely to foster meaningful relationships, but online dating opens up more opportunities for these said relationships.

Sculpted

“

That could be me! That could be someone I know!”

It’s that thought, one expertly manufactured by Hollywood producers, that has allowed the reality TV industry to steadily rise in popularity in its nearly forty-year run. In reality, what I’m actually watching on screen couldn’t be me or someone I know—it’s a crafted version of loosely authentic events experienced by someone carefully selected to entertain viewers. There is of course the age-old question, is reality TV real? The answer is technically yes. But, also no. It’s instead a melding of artificial and authentic, a term referred to as ‘sculpted reality.’

An entirely scripted ‘reality’ show doesn’t sell. So, what’s the allure to audiences? The contestants. From “Survivor”

and “Master Chef” to “The Real Housewives,” “The Bachelor,” and “America’s Next Top Model” the main draw is watching real people, making the plot more accessible and authentic to the viewer. Producers have recognized America’s continuing obsession with authenticity—a longing woven into the very cultural threads of America. The public’s craving for something authentic, raw, and often simpler is echoed in various forms of campaigns. The recent boom of the ‘Influencer Industry’ can be credited to consumers being more likely to buy products from a “real person” who uses them. The perceived “realness” of reality TV characters adds a sense of tangibility that fictitious characters don’t have. The basic scripts that producers contrive act as a catalyst to capture genuine, dramatic, reactions that will draw

the viewer in. This is then coupled with intense post-production editing, dramatic music, and extremely selective contestant casting.

Above all else, the show needs to be entertaining. These stories are carved and manufactured in every stage of production. Thus, reality TV shows are often fastpaced, filled with drama, and just authentic enough that the average viewer could see an elevated version of themselves within the manufactured reality. But does the shows’ demand for constant entertainment and selective curating of “reality” harm its own viewers?

The way reality TV producers choose to sculpt their reality often draws criticism from the average viewer, such as an

intensive reinforcement of unattainable beauty standards. Turn on an episode of “Love Island,” “Too Hot to Handle,” “The Bachelorette,” or almost any dating show and one will probably notice that everyone shares a common trait. They’re hot—natural or not, all of them have the perfect body and face as if each contestant is following the Instagramapproved guidebook on beauty. Although the shows never explicitly state that this is how people should look, when the same types of people are exclusively cast on a show about “attractive singles finding love” it sends a message establishing what attractive singles look like. Seven (and counting) seasons of every contestant looking exactly like the Instagram influencer one tries so desperately to avoid on their timeline sends a clear message of who these shows consider attractive.

Reality shows also imply to the viewer what a romantic relationship should look like and how each partner should behave. Terms such as “love at first sight” and

“fairytale romance” are thrown around quite liberally. Considering both the premise for most of these shows and that most of the first ‘tests’ of compatibility often align with rating attractiveness. It attempts to be aspirational for the viewer but ends up more near plain unrealistic. The larger issue is the type of relationship typically portrayed. The predictable homogeneous dating agenda unsurprisingly consists mainly of straight couples. American culture around sexuality has changed considerably in the time since the birth of reality TV. But has TV changed along with it? The most popular shows about finding love center on straight couples almost exclusively. While this is changing more and more with an occasional contestant, “occasional” does not accurately represent the population of people who do not identify as cis-gender and/or heterosexual. This limited representation on screen falsely portrays what a romantic couple looks like in reality.

How big of an impact could reality TV’s

standards have on viewers? In his book, “Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business,” reflecting on the implications of television in our society, media theorist Neil Postman said, “Television is our culture’s principal mode of knowing about itself. Therefore—and this is the critical point— how television stages the world becomes the model for how the world is properly staged.” What consumers see on screen molds their perspective of the depicted culture at large. The desire to sustain and increase viewership leads to producers fueling stereotypes and creating a false depiction of reality. As audiences increasingly push for all-encompassing representation in entertainment avenues, representing all social identities has mattered and will continue to matter especially in a field of entertainment that brands itself as “reality.”

WRITTEN BY CORA CALLAHAN PHOTOGRAPHED BY ELIOT CORRELL ART DIRECTOR ALEXANDRA BONDURANT DESIGNER PEYTON MCQUAIN MODELS BEAU GLYNN & RORY ROCHA

DEEP FAKE

AI’s Monstrous Creation: the era of PORNOGRAPHY

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSIONS OF SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MEDIA

On January 24th, 2024, AI-generated sexually explicit images of mega popstar Taylor Swift went viral on X (formally known as Twitter). One of these images garnered 47 million views within less than 24 hours before the notoriously poorly regulated social media platform took action and blocked any search that included ‘Taylor Swift.’ This incident is the most publicized case of the exploitation of a person’s image by AI technology, but it is far from the first or the last. AI and pornography have combined in unholy matrimony to create a monstrous new genre that poses a threat not only to celebrities but anyone with a few photos or videos of themselves posted to the internet. This Frankenstein creation is called deepfake pornography.

Merriam-Webster defines deepfakes as “an image or recording that has been convincingly altered and manipulated to misrepresent someone as doing or saying something that was not actually done or said.” Many of us have likely seen political or satirical deepfakes or otherwise heard the buzz of anxiety around them. However, the use of deepfake technology to create highly realistic explicit content without a person’s consent lurks at the fringes of the ethical debates concerning the rapidly evolving tech. While it may not be at the forefront of conversation, deepfake pornography is certainly not lurking at the fringes of the AI content being produced. In a 2019 report by the cybersecurity company Deepspace, deepfake porn accounted for 96% of all deepfakes uploaded to the internet.

Since then, the technology used to create deepfake porn has only become more accessible and more affordable to anyone interested in producing or commissioning such content.

Taylor Swift has not been the only celebrity victim of deepfake pornography. A 2018 article in The Guardian titled “AI Used to Face-swap Hollywood Stars into Pornography Films” documents some of the first mainstream cases of this phenomenon. The article focuses on A-list actresses such as Scarlett Johanson and Emma Watson. Watson’s case was particularly disturbing as many of the images used in the videos were from when she was a minor, further contributing to the horrifying consumption of child pornography.

In the 2023 Vice article “You Feel So Violated,” popular Twitch streamer ‘QTCinderella’ recounts the barrage of harassment she faced in January of 2023 following a livestream in which a fellow streamer had a tab open to a deepfake pornography site that featured her. QTCinderella condemned the deepfakes and continues to speak publicly about how traumatizing the ordeal was for her. She is currently seeking legal action against those who exploited her but has seen little progress thus far.

This was also the case for activist Noelle Martin, who shares her experience of being the victim of deepfake pornography in her TEDx talk: “Online Predators Spread Fake Porn of Me. Here’s How I Fought Back”. Martin recounts how she decided to do a reverse image search on a selfie taken when she was seventeen. Curiosity turned to horror when she found that her image had been spread across several pornographic websites without her knowledge. Her attempts to get the images removed met antagonism from anonymous perpetrators who continued to spread increasingly realistic and explicit content on these sites. The police informed her that there was no legislation regarding such cases, making legal action impossible. While some US states have begun to enact laws specifically targeting this issue, there is still no federal legislation in place. This patchwork of laws makes it difficult to protect victims and prosecute offenders effectively.

According to the organization End Cyber Abuse, the vast majority of deepfake victims are female or have femmepresenting bodies, with males being the primary consumers and distributors of such content. In the comparatively rare cases of male deepfake porn, the videos see less distribution, and researchers propose male deepfake content is more oriented toward personal gratification. Considering these factors, deepfake pornography of femme-presenting individuals stems not just from sexual desire but from a profound misogynistic desire to humiliate, degrade, and punish its victims regardless of class or social status.

Noelle Martin states that these creators of deepfake content targeted her because of her status as an “ordinary woman.” Martin’s case not only presents the reality of most victims of deepfake porn but the lack of resources and justice available for them. However, it’s worth noting that without proper legislation, even Swift, one of the Top 50 wealthiest women in the USA with a meticulous PR team and millions of fans ready to spam search tags to protect her image, cannot escape unscathed from deepfake porn.

These cases highlight the alarming ease with which anyone’s image can be manipulated and exploited for malicious purposes, which poses severe ethical and legal challenges. Addressing

the threat of deepfake porn requires a multi-faceted approach. Firstly, federal legislation must criminalize the creation and distribution of non-consensual deepfake content in order for victims to take legal action. Developing and implementing detection tools capable of identifying and removing deepfake videos on social media platforms is also essential. Another critical component is greater awareness and education about the dangers of deepfake technology that empowers individuals to protect themselves and seek recourse when victimized.

As we confront the disturbing rise of deepfake pornography, it becomes increasingly clear that this is not just a threat to celebrities but to everyday people. The exploitation and manipulation of people’s images through AI technology have far-reaching consequences. Just as Frankenstein’s monster symbolized the dangers of unchecked scientific progress, deepfake pornography serves as a chilling reminder of the ethical and legal challenges we face in the era of AI.

WRITTEN BY ALEXIA CHANDLER ART DIRECTORS AND PHOTOGRAPHERS SAMANTHA JOH & CHLOE MONTAGUE MODEL HALEY KOSKI DESIGNERS SAMANTHA JOH & CHLOE MONTAGUE

unmasking

Artificial Friendships

WRITTEN BY LILY REESE

IILLUSTRATED BY WALLIE BUTLER

n the ever-evolving landscape of social dynamics, we have moved traditional faceto-face interactions to digital platforms, transforming the way we make connections. The nostalgia for encounters of pure randomness is waning. Stories like the ones of your parents meeting for the first time organically instead of swiping right on a dating app are now distant. As I reflect on these changes, I’m realizing that our generation is grappling with the challenge of connecting authentically. This authenticity is overshadowed by the instant gratification of technology.

During moments of awkwardness, when your face becomes red, your palms clam up and you wish to be anywhere but in the present moment, the ability to escape through “getting a phone call” didn’t exist, and generations before were left to navigate inconvenient situations. Sometimes, during these moments of awkwardness, the most genuine connections were formed.

The ease of reaching into our pockets for instant gratification has altered the way we

DESIGNER SOFIA LENTZ

build relationships. Our generation has been somewhat robbed of the ability to connect authentically. Instead of chatting with the stranger sitting next to me in class I often avoid uncomfortable small talk with the ease of my phone taking away any reason to engage in the first place. We are so used to being locked in on our devices that we often avoid talking to those who sit right next to us. Missing out on a potential relationship. What if that person next to you could’ve been your new best friend? What if they lived two towns down from where you’d grown up and never knew? What if they’re also obsessed with that one niche movie that you can never get your friends to watch? What if? You would never know.

As a freshman, many peers around me resort to using this digital realm to fill in the time between when they see each other, rather than setting a plan to meet again as older generations traditionally do. Whether it’s Snapchatting ou acquaintances filters or sending memes back and forth, these online conversations never hold as much meaning as in-person ones. Snapchat culture and follower

Because the Internet

THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA

The (partial) return to a physical social life, from the digital reality that occupied us during lockdown, marked the dawn of a new era of culture that is unprecedentedly involved with the internet. The mere adoption of Zoom as a feasible alternative to inperson gathering will permanently change economic dependency upon physical spaces. Social media is now, more than ever, culture’s primary vessel. Technology allows us to consume massive amounts of information every day without regulating the overwhelm of global issues, petty conflicts and brain-rot content that constantly flashes before our eyes. This relentless stimulation and the aftermath of COVID-19 seem to have contributed to a common sense of cynicism (look at any mental health study from the past few years) about the current state of culture and the world.

At this pivotal point in time, what influences our aesthetic infatuations and how do these characteristics foreshadow a cultural renaissance?

Citizens of the internet, unified by its chaos, have never been more segregated. Emerging technologies such

as artificial intelligence and targeted algorithms hold immense cultural influence with their ability to provide content tailored to each individual’s unique interests. The accuracy of these algorithms and the normalization of participatory culture have accelerated the internet’s efficacy at fostering online communities and the ease at which any user can explore them. Contrary to the previous dominance of mainstream culture, there is a proliferation of participating in niche subcultures.

“Cores,” which are derived from “hardcore,” commonly describe a notable or intense commitment to a movement or group. Recent semantic progression has adapted the suffix “-core” to represent some sort of following interested in the aesthetic value of the former term. For example in a fashion context “gorpcore” identifies the recent popularization of wearing outdoor clothing brands (like Arc’teryx or Salomon) in a streetwear setting. These aesthetic-based subcultures are participatory; they evolve as an amalgamation of various aesthetically-aligned media from individual internet presences. “Corecore” is unique because it reflects on itself, attempting to pinpoint the shared

sentiments and experiences of Gen Z through curated compilations of media that capture the essence of different subcultural movements.

Somewhere in between the invention of the fit pic and the birth of “ #corecore,” the collective cultural consciousness evolved. It seems that we’ve entered a new era of internet culture – the vibe has shifted. In an interview with The Cut, esteemed trend forecaster Sean Monahan, who grappled with “vibe shifts” in his newsletter, descriptively illustrates previous zeitgeists of the internet era such as the “Post-Internet/Techno Revival (ca. 2010–16), or the Blood Orange era, normcore, dressing like The Matrix, Kinfolk the club, not Kinfolk the magazine; and Hypebeast/Woke (ca. 2016–20), or Drake at his Drakest, the Nike SNKRS app, sneaker flipping, virtue signaling, Donald Trump, protests not brunch.”

The aim of these pages is to consider the cultural zeitgeist of the 2020s with an emphasis on the state of fashion. Is the vibe shifting? If so, what sort of effect will linger as a result of factors such as the pandemic, and the technological and cultural developments prompted by it? The turn of the decade marks entry into an era of internet culture which exceeds previous epochs of the digital age in terms both of the accessibility and esoterica of content. How will these precedents change the nature of eras to come? What characterizes the current social wavelengths of fashion? If nothing else, let these columns be a time capsule.

the aforementioned common sense of cynicism, which persists in the fashion community manifesting as the anti-fashion fashion movement.

The contemporary anti-fashion movement can be largely credited to Demna Gvasalia, founder of Vetements and current creative director of Balenciaga. Demna quickly amassed attention in 2015 through his unconventional runway shows using “misplaced” logos and disproportionate silhouettes to challenge hegemony in high fashion. His sentiment has been embraced by many, evident in the recent proliferation of ironic tees and trashed jeans. Subcultures in fashion that emphasize “ugly” and controversial style have gained traction in New York and LA. Undeniably, the internet enables this new branch of counter-culture by favoring virality and provocative content. Esteemed fashion labels are catering to counter-cultural interest in stunts like the Coperni spray-on dress, Heliot Emil setting a runway model on fire, AVAVAV’s FW23 runway show intentionally falling apart, or anything Balenciaga in the past two years. The growing competence of social media algorithms has indirectly redefined the pinnacle of design by promoting wow-factor and controversy above all else.

The popularization of “archive fashion” encapsulates clothing enthusiasts’ current infatuation with second hand clothing and the cult following of underground designers. Until the twenty-first century, fashion was composed of an elite faction of haute couture ateliers and their exclusive fanbases. The internet revoked this exclusivity and reconstructed the relationships between consumers, influencers, and brands. Small streetwear brands and independent designers compete for attention while corporate fast fashion operations guerilla market reiterated styles from recent runway collections and undiscovered creatives. Chaos fuels

Unprecedented technological developments have unified us through the chaos, making predominant standards visible and creating a space to challenge them. Cognitive discomfort among the collective consciousness is a byproduct of becoming something new. As we reconsider outdated understandings of beauty and aesthetic success, the evolutionary possibilities in terms of the way that we creatively express ourselves as human beings becomes endless. Boiling tension between counterculture and the mainstream, between beauty and absurdity are grounds for a cultural reset.

WRITTEN BY CASS MORRISON PHOTOGRAPHED BY BELLA SNYDER ART DIRECTOR KAELIN ACKEN DESIGNER MEGAN LEE MODEL EMMA BALLMAN

FAKENews

CAN YOU SPOT IT?

At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself actively avoiding news. Each time the white highlight of a news notification lit up my phone, I mindlessly swiped it away hoping that by not seeing the article, I was no longer responsible for sifting through the seemingly endless display of disappointing news. Not only did I find the news depressing during a state of physical isolation from my friends and school, but deciphering factual information from inflammatory, politically charged language was not an easy task. Out of fear of regurgitating false information, I became news-avoidant and I wasn’t alone. According to Reuters, 38% of consumers say they often avoid the news.

I found that being completely news-avoidant was next to impossible as I was constantly being fed headlines curated for me. Tapping through Instagram stories, I recognized that news highlights were reposted without a thought, just because a headline’s buzzword aligned with one’s political beliefs or moral values. As social media sites such as Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram continue to become dominant news platforms, news organizations increasingly depend on algorithms to distribute news by selecting, filtering, ranking, and bundling headlines for consumers. Although this algorithm can have benefits by curating news that reflects the ideals and interests of the consumer, it can also provide audiences with low-quality, unreliable news sources, and even fake news.

The term “fake news” can be interpreted as overused and politically charged, yet fake news is increasingly prominent and has real societal consequences. Fabricated news stories have been around for decades as sensationalism was (and arguably still is) a primary factor in selling newspapers. In the early 1800s, racist sentiments led to the publication of fake news stories surrounding African Americans, and “The New York Sun’s” “Great Moon Hoax” claimed there was an alien civilization living on the moon. According to the University of California, Santa Barbara Center for Information Technology, the term “fake news” and its connotations became mainstream again during the 2016 presidential election. Outlandish conspiracy theories like “Pizzagate,” which alleged there was a pedophilia ring linked to members of the Democratic Party in the basement of Comet Ping Pong Pizzeria in Washington D.C., were the cornerstone of the relationship between the 2016 political arena and the term “fake news.” Along with the term’s popularity increase came an increased awareness of the prevalence of fake news.

Fake news can be difficult to spot; it often confirms our biases because we are more likely to believe information that coincides with our own beliefs. Because of the countless platforms cultivating misinformation, at times

outnumbering the factual sources, the public has lost trust in news outlets and their claimed scientific findings.

Although it can be daunting and difficult to navigate, there are ways to combat fake news and the spread of misinformation.

1. Fact-check social media posts and look out for infographics before reposting or sharing

2. Look for the same information on other sources to confirm the information is accurate

3. Check if the original source cites where the information came from

4. Consider the agenda of the story/post: news groups typically want to associate their brand with accuracy, yet some newsgroups tailor their content to a specific group by covering stories from a particular perspective, often skewing their accuracy and playing into the misconceptions of their audience.

The constant bombardment of politicallycharged posts on social media encourages the spread of misinformation. Social media is the place where deepfakes and the reproduction of the news can be deemed as fact without skepticism. As social media is a primary news hub for many Gen Z consumers and an increasing number of older generations, it can be easy to assume every post and repost is reporting factual information. Statista reports that over 38% of Americans have accidentally shared fake news on social media. Social media has created an environment where anyone can be a reporter, triggering a dangerous shift in who has control of the quality and type of information being spread. The U.S. PIRG Education Fund found that when a falsified or exaggerated news story surfaces on social media, it will typically gain more traction than a factual story because people want interesting, dramatic stories. Simply reposting a seemingly trustworthy news story may not have malicious intent but it perpetuates the spread of misinformation. Researchers at MIT found that fake news can spread up to 10 times faster than factual reporting on social media.

In the digital news age, avoiding the news is close to impossible. Yet, identifying fake news is entirely plausible. Thinking critically and understanding news algorithms can increase media literacy and prevent the spread of misinformation across platforms.

WRITTEN BY BAILEY MEYERS

PHOTOGRAPHED BY HARPER MAHOOD

ART DIRECTOR LINDSAY ROGERS

DESIGNER MEGAN LEE

MODEL REILEY LESYK

ARE WE LIVING IN A SIMULATION?

This question is born from simulation theory, the debated idea that life as we know it is actually a high-tech computer simulation, possibly overseen by some higher power. The idea of living in a simulation could be similar to Sims, one of the best-selling computer games of all time, where the user controls the lives of imaginary people. In this scenario, people aren’t biologically real, but rather, made up of code. Every emotion and milestone is predetermined and occurs inside a digital universe. This idea has been played through many times in pop culture and the media, with movies like The Truman Show and The Matrix.

The theory that our world is completely simulated is either ridiculous or completely rational, depending on who you talk to. I posed the question “Are we living in a simulation?” to five different people, all with varying opinions, to get an understanding of how simulation theory is received.

“If we’re living in a simulation, then as it appears, space is an abstract property written in code. Our government could have been influenced by Roswell, New Mexico. Because, in the past 124 years, we went from wagons and the Oregon Trail life, to having railroads. Technology has improved so rapidly from when television was made in the ‘50s all the way up to the early 2000s, and then it’s just been getting more advanced. So it could be an influence of foreign beings from the fifth dimension. We could be controlled. I mean [think about], that little voice in your head, that tells you not to do a bad thing, but then you do it anyway, and then you’re like, ‘Why did I do it?’ Maybe we don’t have free will. We as individuals in the world are being told what to do: go get a 9-5 job, all that. It’s a control thing. The Mandela Effect could also be another glitch for everybody. With the Mandela Effect, we as individuals experience slightly different changes, so there could be glitches in the system.”

-Ian Lee

“I think so. We don’t even know where we came from. And there’s glitches. Ghosts? Those are glitches. And they found computer data inside people’s DNA. We’re living in a computer.”

-Monet Bittrolf

“I do believe in the simulation theory. The only reason – well, I don’t know if you’re allowed to say this – but, I mean I’ve taken acid a couple of times. It’s hard to not see the world in strings; that idea that everyone is connected by something. I choose to believe the idea that we are all living for our own purpose, but we don’t know what it is…Aliens are real, that’s a real thing. And what if they’ve just been observing us the whole time? And we’ve just been placed on Earth [so they can] watch how the human race evolves and changes and has relationships with other people. It’s not mental control, where they’re literally telling you what to do, it’s more of, they put certain people on a path. And that’s why I feel like so many people have similar paths. Or their paths cross. Or they’re together for some point, and then they leave at some point. It’s all a big web.”

- Maysee Russell

I’d say I don’t really believe in simulation theory, but I think there’s a very small possibility that we’re in a simulation. I have a theory. It basically talks about how technology on Earth has exponentially grown in the power of computers and their memory and all of that. The first computer, like an electric computer, was built in the ‘40s or something. And 80 years later, right now, we have computers that can teach themselves how to function. So, in the span of 80 years, computers have just exploded in their capabilities. Basically, my own idea on this theory is that there are intelligent aliens somewhere else in the universe or a different universe, that have taken their technology to such a high point that they are able to encode the human experience within a computer. So they have the capabilities to form human life in a computer simulation. And where we fall into this is that we are basically the subjects of this simulation. And we’re a part of this extreme technological experiment for them, as crazy as it sounds.”

-Will Lagomarsino

“I definitely don’t think that we’re living in a simulation, just because there’s too many opportunities to do different things. If we were living in a simulation, the world is way too complicated to be explained that simply, that it’s just all fake.”

- Isabella Kolts

in social and relational manners.” Dr. Zaman also stresses that “self-esteem is less stable” at this age, and it heavily fluctuates with feeling a part of an ingroup or feeling ostracized.

As Cady begins to put up her guard of inauthenticity at school, witness the life cycle of the Plastic. Cady fails math on purpose to seduce Aaron Samuels, lies to her parents, betrays her friends, and manipulates Regina George right out of her queen bee throne. In these moments, she had everything she could ever want, but nothing left of herself. The ending of the cycle, seen in both Regina and Cady, is quick and painful because a life built from plastic is not durable. Being anything less than real cannot support genuine relationships.

The longing for acceptance, the guilt that accompanies doing what it takes to get there, the emptiness of lost identity; it is all tragically relatable. Just as Dr. Zaman mentioned, the compelling nature of an “in-group” is a siren that is hard to ignore. In “Mean Girls,” these groups consist of “preps, jv jocks, burnouts, band geeks” and more. From an evolutionary perspective, forming groups is what allowed humans to evolve. Learning to use fire and build shelters largely occurred as a result of community.

Humans have a desire to coexist that is rooted in survival. As reported by the Johns Hopkins News Letter in 2014, researcher Daniel Haun observed the difference between groups of twoyear-old boys and girls from those of chimpanzees and orangutans. Both groups were tasked with the cognitive challenge of placing a ball through a specific entrance in a box. While conducting the task alone, all subjects were successful. Yet, when peers were introduced during the trial, the children began watching one another, and changing their decisions. Even if this meant placing the ball in the wrong hole.

WRITTEN BY GALIA GNAIN

Through his research, Haun demonstrates that people are hardwired to pay attention to each other. Navigating this instinct in “Mean Girls,” Cady tries to find her place in the hierarchy of Girl World. But what happens when learning from others eclipses personal autonomy? For Cady, it means finding protection among the plastic predators. She distorts herself into what she perceives is needed by the top of the social food chain.

Mattis Geiger and Oliver Wilhelm at the Institute of Psychology and Education conducted research to understand more about instances like this. From observing the behavior of adults during interviews, they found that “faking” or instances of deceptive behavior can be categorized as a socio-emotional ability, just like emotion perception and cognitive empathy. Habits like faking develop because society implicitly asks for a touch of plastic in everyone. Dress the part, say the right thing, read the social cues. America Ferrara expertly captures this phenomena in her “Barbie (2023)” monologue, explaining, “we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.”

In a world where belonging is not only a want, but a biological predisposition, a certain level of plasticity is a struggle nobody should feel alone in battling. All people navigating society express inauthentic aspects of themselves at one time or another. It is important to remember that forgiveness of this human nature is part of moving forward. Although it is a journey, one that may include being plastic for a moment, learning to show up unapologetically authentic is the only way to feel as pretty as plastic looks. That is why Barbie chooses to live in the real world, why Cady ends up wearing a Mathletes Letterman jacket to the Spring Fling, and why everybody else, hopefully, chooses to set down the artificial demands of the world.

PARIS SNIDER ART DIRECTOR FRANCESCA MILHIZER

MODEL EVELYN MURRAY

DESIGNER AINSLEY MCRAE

humaN

Brands

Tabloid fodder and reality TV shows were the original ways to produce the quintessential influencer. “It girls” like Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan regularly graced the covers of magazines wearing the newest Versace doing the most scandalous things. Headlines like “Ruined by Fame” or “Crazy Meltdown” were too tempting not to pick up. There was an air of mystery to these party girls that the media couldn’t help but try to decipher. It didn’t matter if they had discernible talents or not, what they were doing, who they were with, and what they were wearing was far more important. It was as if a subscription to the Daily Mail or People magazine allowed ordinary citizens to peep through the keyhole and witness a small dose of the extravagant and messy lifestyles of the wealthy.

Now Daily Mail only exists when you finish all the stories on your Snapchat and People magazine while you wait in line at Target and wonder who even cares about Megan Markle. All the influencers live in the Tik Tok and Instagram algorithms, they have become omnipresent beings infiltrating everyday life. The Kar-Jenner clan seems to be the presiding monarchs of the influencer economy because despite not following any of them, the controversy and praise surrounding them at any given moment feels inescapable. In fact, I quite enjoy keeping tabs on them despite being morally repelled by the excess of wealth they hold. This obsession with the wealth and lifestyle of the modern influencer is rather paradoxical at its core and is seeded in both desire and disgust.

her New York apartment. Brands like Free People send her an incessant amount of PR packages because she always tags them in her Tiktoks and Instagram stories. While her image has mostly remained as that of a “normal” girl who happens to get sent a rather ridiculous amount of products and clothing, she has in reality transcended being a person and morphed into the most profitable shell of herself in order to become a brand. The only thing that she truly kept before becoming famous was this artificial trust she created with her audience.

While trust is a cornerstone of relationships, it is also the foundation of marketing and advertising. By maintaining a parasocial trust with viewers, influencers morph into human brands. They have become a “persona…whose commercial brand is made profitable [by] those who exploit their popularity” as Greg Jenner says in his book, “Dead Famous: An Unexpected History of Celebrities.”

Influencers have morphed into more than a paparazzi photo and a scandalous headline. They live in our pockets and we see them everyday. They tell us stories and give us advice as if they were our older sibling. Even though we don’t actually know them, it begins to feel as if we know them intimately. Oftentimes they start as “regular” people and transcend into stardom, but the compatriotism we feel with them when they are not yet a star never really leaves. There is this fabricated trust with the viewer that allows us to see them as more of a confidant or a messenger that provides insight into the realm of the wealthy, and not wealthy themselves. They depict this rather unrealistic life of wealth and beauty that seems accessible to the average consumer. However, this is a friendly facade. As USF professor Joshua Gamson puts it in his essay, “The Unwatched Life Is Not Worth Living,” influencers “become famous because they have been made so artificially by a team of investors, publicists, makeup artists, magazine publishers and the like: they are factory products.” Take Victoria Paris as an example. At first, she was just a girl in New York, but slowly she was backed by brands like Anthropologie who furnished

Despite the value of their “brand” mostly existing on the internet, its real life impact becomes apparent through our consumerism. The way influencers market products prey on the collective desire to be wealthy. We attempt to emulate the wealth we are bombarded with on social media through buying products, objects, clothes, etc. In turn, the individuality in style becomes scarce because we consume to replicate the version of wealth we enjoy viewing. Trends are named before those subcultures even exist, making them devoid of any personality and a goal rather than an achievable aesthetic. To perfectly embody an aesthetic, one must buy so many products that inevitably will go out of style within a year. Materialism has infiltrated our collective consciousness; because of the influencer we have been conditioned into believing our online value and interests can only be translated to the “real” world through materialism.

This kind of consumerism can only exist in an influencer economy which brands, publicists, and influencers are all acutely aware of. Because this “economy” is so accessible, it has become extremely oversaturated with failed reality TV stars and clickbaiters as opposed to the scarce influencer realm of the 90’s and early 2000’s. Where influencers were once avoidable, now there is a niche influencer for everyone, each one has the ability to profit off of the viewer. Influencers are master marketers, and if they themselves are not then someone who is making money off of them is. Through this new artificial landscape, the individual has become both the customer and the product, creating a whole new terrain for companies and people to capitalize on.

Metal Gears

WRITTEN BY MAKENA ADAMS

ART DIRECTOR CAMILLE ANDREWS

PHOTOGRAPHED BY MARY GROSSWENDT MODEL ANASTASIA IRVINE DESIGNER AVA WISDOM

turning metal gears

terrible machinations we could never contain made to protect us from churning fears by our own hands of steel, swiveling on metal spheres created in a melting pot of iron and good intentions aflame we pieced together the turning metal gears even a useful, helpful, familiar thing can be not as it appears the cogs on which our lives sustain to protect us from churning fears

but when they striked like red hot spears we froze, our minds of circuits knowing nothing but the reign of turning metal gears

so when our pacing feet finally strike flint streets, spark appears and through the fire as they were made, they would remain the writhing, churning fears creaking, tilting, rusting for years we construct in vain turning metal fears to protect us from churning gears

Rom Coms: Just a Fantasy

The unexpected has happened. You fell madly in love with your hard-tostand secretary. You bribed him into proposing in order to stay in the country. You had no intention of actually falling for him. And yet, you couldn’t be happier.

The unexpected has happened. Your editor tasked you with writing a story that requires you to date a man and attempt to get dumped within 10 days.With this attempt, you play the part of the annoying and clingy girlfriend. How hard could it be? But he ends up charming you and things change. Suddenly, the last thing you want is to be without him. He wants the same.

The unexpected has happened. There is a guy after your heart but you want nothing to do with him. You end up falling for him, only to find out that he was being paid to take you out. However, he manages to charm you in a way you can’t not forgive him. And the rest is history!

The unexpected has happened. You are being forced to fake a relationship during your sister’s wedding weekend. But it’s with a past one-night stand you actually hate. Nevertheless, that hate slowly turns to true love thanks to spontaneous adventures and sing-a-longs. You found the man who finally gets you!

Shoutout to the rom-com classics: The Proposal, How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, 10 Things I Hate About You, and the newest romantic comedy hit, Anyone But You.

Romantic comedies continue to be my favorite genre of movies. They are extremely enjoyable and funny, while simultaneously having an interesting way of making your heart skip a beat. Maybe subconsciously, since the ripe age of 12, I have been wanting a rom-com to happen to me in real life. But who hasn’t?

Let’s be real. What romance movie doesn’t make you want a love story for yourself? Take the Notebook for example – I mean, come on, Noah literally wrote

love letters to Allie every day for a year. Looking at Disney favorite, Tangled, I know we all secretly have been wanting our own Flynn (Eugene) Ryder. So what is it about the idea of an artificial romance that makes it captivating?

All of these movies are the classic exploration of misunderstandings, deception and eventual reconciliation in a light-hearted, humorous way. “A story trope, whether found in literature or films, is a totally expected situation between two characters that moves the action forward…but it’s the romance genre that’s famed for providing the most sought-after scenarios.” This quote by NJ Simmonds of Jericho writers shows that the comfort within rom-coms is that you can normally guess the ending right from the beginning. So how do the “enemies to lovers,” “fake dating,” and “friends to lovers,” tropes play a critical role in romantic comedies that promote a yearning for this kind of love in our own lives? Our inner hopeless romantic is fueled by the rom-com tropes that we see play out in these films, leaving behind any doubt we have for our future love stories.

The artificial romances in entertainment end up playing a role in the romances of the world by inspiring false hope in our own personal love stories. This has been happening since we’ve first laid our eyes on them. But isn’t that what’s so great about these movies? They make you believe the things in them could actually happen to you. It’s distastefully beautiful.

Romantic comedies make the viewers believe a movie is more than just a movie. As Intimacy in Platonic Love, from Align’s 411 Issue, so honestly states, “Instead of letting it transpire organically, I searched for love in places it didn’t exist and fabricated it out of nothing. The habit inevitably planted the seeds for many disillusionments and disappointments.” Whether subconscious or consciously, these movies influence your way of searching for romance in your life. You start to compare your own love stories, or the lack of them, to things you’ve

seen conspire on the screens in front of you. These habits can bleed into the relationships you do have. This is a very unhealthy habit that leaves you blaming yourself or your partner for not meeting the expectations of romance that these movies so clearly give us.

Personally, romantic comedies pull at my heartstrings because I associate them with growing up. My mom, sister and I spent hours on Sundays watching movies like You’ve Got Mail, Sweet Home Alabama, or My Big Fat Greek Wedding. There’s always been a little girl inside me who watches these films with hearts in her eyes. Not only because the artificial romance within them is inspiring, but because I associate it with my girlhood. And through getting older, I have realized the bittersweet truth. All fantasies come to an end.

The movies you want so badly to happen in your own life inevitably don’t. And you realize that you have set unrealistic standards for yourself because of these artificial romances. Our reality: frat basements, Tinder swipes, class crushes, and drunk nights at bars. This is why eventually you learn to love rom-coms for what they really are: just a movie. But the truth is, experiencing the heartaches and happiness of real-life love is so much better than the rom-coms we compare it to.

WRITTEN BY JOSIE WILLARD ILLUSTRATED BY SYDNEY JOHNSON DESIGNER PEYTON MCQUAIN

CLEAN GIRL VS. REAL WORLD

Clean Girl Aesthetic is defined as “a beauty, fashion, and lifestyle trend based around a look that’s intended to appear elegantly casual but also minimalist and effortless.” This aesthetic has taken TikTok by storm in the past year and has become the pinnacle of femininity for many young women. The “clean girl” wakes up before sunrise to go to her pilates class. She greets the morning with a green smoothie and a perfected skin care routine. She changes into her Aritzia Super Puff and Lulu Lemon leggings before setting off for the day. Her lunch of a garden salad is accompanied by her pastel Stanley cup filled with ice-cold detox water. She pulls her hair out of velcro rollers to reveal a perfect, silky-smooth blowout and slips into a corset top before hitting the town with her closest girlfriends. She returns home after her night out, she takes off all her makeup and she wakes up bright and early the next day to do it all again.

You might be thinking, “The Clean Girl has her shit together. So why can’t I?” Why can’t we all just be girls in our twenties making thousands of dollars for putting on Drunk Elephant tanning drops and Rare Beauty blush before a night out? Why can’t we document our “day-in-the-life” that people envy? The idolization of the “clean girl” has set unrealistic expectations for what life should look like, especially in your twenties. There is a mutual understanding that your twenties exist for having existential crises, trying to hold onto your inner child, partying too hard and faking it ‘til you make it.

Something that doesn’t seem to concern the “clean girl” is the significant reality that is hustle culture. This has become the secret to success, even at the expense of mental health and work-life balance. Since the revolution of hustle culture, it has become standard to disregard personal care and put “distractions” on the shelf that could get in the way of our achievements. BBC describes hustle-culture as a “narrative [that] promotes the idea that there’s always more to strive for.” It’s constantly reaching for more, giving into greed, and losing ourselves in the idea that fortune equals success. It’s always staying ahead of the curve and sprinting at the blast of the starting pistol, to the point where your endurance gives out before you can finish the race. When this is the daily regimen, it becomes difficult to squeeze in that 6am spin class and ten step skin care routine every morning. The truth is, hustle-culture is real and burn-out is real! These realities make the life of a “clean girl” appear as a fantasy world that only exists within the confines of my phone screen.

Not only does the clean girl speak to us as we enter true adulthood, she also has an influence on the tweens of today. Sephora-10-year-olds have become a classification of species. Young girls are spending their parents’ money on unnecessary anti-aging moisturizers, Summer Friday’s lip balms and concealers to cover up blemishes that do not yet exist. They are wearing Zara jeans and Brandy Melville crop tops and painting their faces with Charlotte Tilbury Flawless Filter. When I was ten, I was wearing plaid bermuda shorts and Justice tees. My only makeup was compact in a glittery, plastic flip phone. Afternoons were spent playing with American Girl Dolls long after it was socially acceptable. It feels impossible to stay young in an era where growing up seems so desirable. Who wouldn’t want to go to yoga class every morning before meeting your besties for brunch and shopping? Why wouldn’t you want a closet full of LuluLemon and Aritzia? The clean girl aesthetic sets up an unrealistic expectation of the reality that is adulthood. These Sephora-10-year-olds are in for a rude awakening. Before you know it, they will be counting how many Linkedin connections they have, experiencing complicated relationships, and finding ways to make rent.

I could argue this younger generation has grown up too fast due to the media influence in their lives. But, we had our own influencers that were rushing us out of our adolescence. Youtubers like Macbarbie07 and Stilababe09 had me dying to go Black Friday shopping, wear cut-off jean shorts, muscle tanks, and rock a smokey eye to the middle school dance. The trends of the mid 2010’s may seem juvenile now, but I had no business begging my mom for bandeau tops and flower crowns for a Coachella weekend I definitely wasn’t attending at the ripe age of eleven.

The “clean girl” feels like a mockery of my life. While she comes home from the bar to take off her makeup and drink a cold glass of water, I’m ordering a large family’s worth of Taco Bell and falling asleep in my bar clothes. While she’s making her bed and cooking some avocado toast in the morning, I’m sleeping through alarms, running out the door on an empty stomach and an insufficient amount of sleep. She is everything we all hope to be. She is the “it girl.” In reality, I know the “clean girl” struggles to get up at the crack of dawn or drunk cries after one-too-many G&T’s. Maybe she doesn’t make her bed every morning. Seeing is not always believing. I’d like to think if me and the “clean girl” sat down for lunch we’d find a lot more similarities than differences between us.

WRITTEN BY REILLY ARENS

ILLUSTRATED BY YING THUM DESIGNER SOFIA LENTZ

battle of the bands

featuring Grrlband, Bowl Peace, Hearing Loss, Skoob, Verb8im, Matt Roome & Ultra Yellow

march

8th at WOW hall

PHOTOGRAPHED BY MARY GROSSWENDT, ELIOT CORRELL, LULU DEVOULIN, KE’ALI MCCARTER & MADDY YEN DESIGNER ELLA NORTON