the freedom to be ugly online

can writers opt out of performing aesthetic labor on the internet?

This week Substack announced a program to draw TikTok and Youtube video creators to join the platform. Chatter ensued. Mostly on Notes. Some writers view this move from Substack as a de-prioritization of writers’ interests in favor of the lucrative potential of video content. Some writers are excited about it, but by and large the vibe is…concerned? wary? pessimistic? disappointed?

What struck me most were the comments about who writers are and what writers want. Here’s the gist of what writers are saying:

Writers are introverts. Writers don’t want the chaos of photo and video and audio. Writers don’t want to be inundated with a feed of talking heads. Writers don’t want to be content creators or vloggers. Writers just want to write.

I identify as a fashion writer first—before content creator or stylist or copywriter, even though my freelance work technically includes all of the above. I agree that many of us on this platform are not writer-creators/fill in the blank by choice but by necessity, due to the depressing economic landscape of media. However! I do genuinely enjoy creating in photo and video mediums. I love making a little minivlog about visiting LA. I love getting my film developed so I can post it as my cover photo along with an all lowercase title for my newsletter send. I love the rhetorical power of a clever multimedia storytelling moment, how words and images co-create meaning.

This words v. video convo made me pause for a moment and wonder: am I the kind of writer these writers are talking about? Am I one of those unsavory “talking heads” for posting an OOTD video on Notes? Am I less of a Writer with a capital W because I also post IG photo dumps and TikToks? Am I diluting the sanctity of the craft that is writing?

I know it’s not that deep—but as someone who is a fashion writer but also a little bit of everything else, I’ve been reflecting on how much of my work is hinged on aesthetic labor. Makeup, outfits, documenting the makeup and outfits, feeling the pressure to look presentable on camera. Is writing the last refuge of creative expression without the looming pressure to be pretty??

I understand why writers would feel protective of an online space where words are the heart of the culture.

That is something I do appreciate about the current iteration of Substack: some of my favorite newsletters are written by people who are “anonymous” by modern internet standards. I don’t know their name, they never post photos so I don’t know what they look like. (Isn’t it fascinating that women, and especially women of color, have had a long literary tradition of pen names?).

Theoretically, you could be anon on Instagram or TikTok but it’s less conducive to that. I feel like that was the appeal of Tumblr as well. You could post pictures of yourself, and people did, but you could also connect with people without doing so.

When I posted this Note a few weeks ago, a few people replied saying that’s how they fell in love with their current partner. Someone else said, the way I’d fall in love with everyone! There is a romance to reading someone’s writing without knowing what they look like. You’re making a genuine effort to understand their world and see them beyond their outward appearance. This is the premise of every catfish rom-com in existence, lol.

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My most-used TikTok filter is called Pink Flower and Freckles.

I use it when I want to yap about something random that popped into my head but I feel self-conscious of my appearance that day. It overlays my face with a spackling of freckles, curled cartoon eyelashes and a pink hibiscus flower. The effect is sort of Pixar character. The artifice is the point—I don’t use this filter because I think it looks natural.

I use a filter called just Freckles for that. It’s toned down. Shorter, thinner eyelashes and just a sprinkling of freckles with a slightly contoured look. Very often I do what I call “video makeup” which is a medium-effort way for me to feel comfortable enough with how I look to talk on camera. Some days I feel appearance-neutral and don’t care to do anything to my face.

Regardless of how I choose to change my appearance for the camera, we live in a society that incentivizes adherence to beauty standards that place whiteness and thinness as the ideal. (I know this is not a new concept for my readers, you guys get it…you read Jess DeFino, etc.). From what I’ve observed on fashion TikTok, there are brilliant thinkers who have super interesting points to make, but it’s rather telling which creators draw larger audiences and financial success due to the way they present themselves on camera.

There’s one creator I adore who usually makes videos in a black sweatshirt, in bed, with no makeup—and there’s always comments about how “disheveled” she looks rather than the expert knowledge she just dropped. There are Youtubers I watch who will never receive the same praise as Emma Chamberlain does for performing “authenticity” (ex: burping, bedrotting) because they’re not white.

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The opportunity to be perceived based on your thoughts alone has rapidly eroded with social media and *especially* with the video medium.

I’m not sure what the future of fashion writing on Substack will look like with more video creators. I’m not against the expansion of video content on here, but I also get why it feels like there’s no place left online where we can just…be ugly, but people will still listen to us.

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Read next:

the sandy liang girl grows up

how to find vintage that looks like dôen (but more affordable)

the regeneration of LA street style

xoxo

viv