“Save me, Timothee Chalamet lookalike contest,” the internet seemed to say in late October. Skinny white men with unruly brown hair gathered at Washington Square Park in New York to be publicly crowned the best Timothee. As one can predict, the internet ate it all up and burped out a string of memes, and–as is in its nature–a trend. What followed was a domino effect with Dev Patel, Jeremy Allan White, and Zayn Malik look-alike competitions springing up in pockets to similar fame. But, these contests are more than just a husband-finding expedition. The appeal is simple: there is an immediate creation of community. What this signals is a gaping hole that has been cracking up in our larger social circles (or lack thereof), especially post the pandemic. We lack third spaces. The wounds of pandemic-warranted isolation are gradually healing. So, as we suck the stale air of online echo chambers, there is an underlying—almost desperate–need to open the windows. An exodus of sorts from the digital to the physical. While I’m not claiming that online spaces will disappear entirely, what I am hinting towards is the need for more tangible human interaction. Think of how curated brick-and-mortar outlets are making a comeback thanks to new marketing strategies. Brands like Gentle Monster are pioneering this shift with unique in-person experiences for their consumers. Earlier this year, the eyewear brand opened its American Dream store in New Jersey. Designed as a shop-gallery hybrid, the store, featuring a herd of animated white buffalos, presents itself as an art exhibit. While there is no letting-go of the digital, a need to route the online through the offline seems to have gained an added urgency. However, this very ‘digital-analog’ nature of communities extends much beyond just marketing tactics. Earlier this year in Spain, ‘pineapple dating’ became all the rage. For those unfamiliar with this trend, grocery shoppers place downwards-facing pineapples onto their shopping carts to hint that they’re looking for a romantic partner. Over time, many other cues, such as bumping trolleys, have been incorporated to mean different things. As dating apps crowd our smartphone screens, pineapple dating signals a U-turn to in-person interaction for real connection. It is no surprise that this year’s biggest musical hit, Charli XCX’s “Brat”, was a callback to the now-lost clubbing culture of the 2010s, an era marked by jammed dance floors, messy eyeliners and tinnitus-inducing beats. However, the viability of clubs and other pre-pandemic spaces of socialisation remains in question. With rents rising and the economy crushing fresh graduates, the Gen Z interpretation of clubbing strays from its original appeal. Smaller, seemingly organic spaces with the same loud music seem to be the go-to. An increasing number of old-time clubs are now shifting focus towards events featuring local artists, games and watch parties. There is a new string of apartment turned nightclubs as well as DJ music being incorporated into other daytime events. Of course, there is also the financial burden of alcohol, expensive cab charges and the general anxiety Gen Z claims to face in today’s socio-political landscape that adds to the list of reasons to reject the millennial homeground of clubs. Closer home in India, we witness the growing numbers of film festivals, music concerts and fan conventions. The younger generation turns away from conventional investments such as houses and works towards building a pool of more achievable albeit intangible assets. Concert go-ers in the country alone face nearly ten times higher charges on resale platforms. In addition to this, arts and performance spaces such as the Museum of Art and Photography, Bangalore and the Nita Mukesh Ambani Cultural Centre in Mumbai continue to gain popularity. In a world where traditional centres of community like theatres and movie halls struggle to survive, we are witnessing the slow, laborious birth of the new third space. A social environment that borrows from both the digital and physical; one that is accommodating of the dwindling economy. Suddenly, we find ourselves actively hunting for interaction, mixing and matching what we know of as our reality, nostalgia and everything in between. The new third space is beyond just permeable. And so, as we sit here jumping from one piece of content to the next, we wait for something that will make us stop scrolling. In the Sisyphean search for meaning online, our mountain top is the Timothee Chalamet lookalike contest. We laugh with our newfound community of Chalamet fans, only to fall back to tweeting about our attendance at the event. Perhaps the weight of the boulder on digital loneliness never truly leaves us.
26 Nov 2024
Riti Krishnan
