A spectre is haunting the four corners of our phones- the spectre of the ideal self. It is no breaking news to say that people tend to portray an amped-up version of themselves online. On social media, there is an unwritten rule of conduct whereby we post our better moments in life. Moments that will make the beholder stop and seethe in jealousy before tapping their thumb twice and forging a remark of flattery in the comment section. Collectively, these moments culminate to form the ideal self. A scroll through a user’s Instagram illustrates a model of the self that likely contrasts who they really are. This phenomenon is somewhat inevitable- why not make yourself out to be sociable, attractive and well-liked? Even if this form of self only exists in the metaverse, at least it exists at all.
Like every other current, Tiktok has taken the notion of the ideal self to another level. A video that speaks to this trend has recently gone viral by an English creator named Max Leapage-Keefe. The creator’s video is of him and some friends outside of a London pub against the 1968 hit ‘Spooky’ by Dusty Springfield. Captioned ‘Pints, chit chat and good people >’, the video consists of second-long clips of the creator and his friends drinking and sharing laughs, as though they were unaware that they were being filmed. The vintage music, the drinking of cold pints in crisp weather and the flat cap-trench coat couture seem to echo a more polished version of a nineteenth-century scene of English working-class men alleviating the stress of the six-day work week in the belly of the Industrial Revolution. The creator has clearly tried to depict a vibe worthy of envy in this TikTok.
Something, however, is amiss in this endeavour. The curated nature of the video has subjected it to many accusations of cringe in the first degree. The creator’s clear goal of presenting this scene as organic is contradicted by the fact that he had to take the time to set up the camera and ask his fellow pub-goers to be part of the TikTok video. Imagining the potential awkwardness in the moments before the video was taken is enough to paint the scene quite differently from how it might come off if observed in real life. Some commenters are comparing it to the infamous ‘Fitzroy Garage Sesh’ that seasoned TikTok users like myself will recall from December of 2022. This video depicted a sunny evening all-boy party happening in Melbourne, Australia, forever tainting Empire of the Sun’s ‘We are the People.’ Both videos tried to create a nonchalant, effortlessly cool vibe but their decision to film confuted this effort.
They are far from the only of their kind, but it is interesting to point out that the two aforementioned TikTok videos showed a male-only ensemble. Similar videos of female creators are plentiful, but generally not subjected to the same criticism. One specific trend from 2022 springs to mind. During the lead-up to summer, my For You Page was permeated with videos of young women on their ‘grind set’, killing themselves in the gym, drinking homemade green concoctions and spending incessant hours in the library to the melody of ‘Fancy’ by Drake. The 15-second clips were usually filmed to the lines, ‘You don’t do it for the man, man never notice. You just do it for yourself, you the f*cking coldest. Intelligent too, oh you my sweetheart. I’ve always liked my women book and street smart.’ These videos emanate an aura of self-love and harsh discipline. The lyrics ‘man never notice’ comically counter the deliberate effort of these creators to be noticed. Perhaps it is the general expectation for women to be gazed upon that renders these videos as non-cringeworthy.
These types of videos are characteristic of the contemporary need to be perceived. A phenomenon that social media has given rise to, it is slowly becoming more apparent that being seen in a certain way is as important, if not more important, than being that way. As though we are all trying to emulate a Godly version of ourselves, this spectacle creates somewhat of an identity crisis whereby two versions of ourselves exist, one in the realm of the internet and one in the physical world. In order to render our online selves more concrete, we have started to make these videos shot from a third-person perspective, so that we can be observed as if it were from a spectator in real life.
Although only a relatively small portion of creators make these types of videos, the want to be watched can be observed in a more masked way from a regular social media account. One thing that has become particularly apparent and superficially more ‘important’ since coming to university, is the need to post photos from social outings. This pressure, felt to some degree by many people, helps to shape this ‘ideal self’ as a well-rounded social butterfly. Everyone wants to be perceived as good craic and up for a party- the way one portrays oneself on social media can guarantee that this perception materialises. It is a shallow shame that an absence of photographic evidence from a night out engenders an incomplete feeling. This shallow nature of the pressure to post is shameful and embarrassing to admit. It is equally as shameful to surrender to the FOMO that one feels tapping through stories or posts from a social outing that they missed. Not only is the missed fun lamented, but a fear arises whereby one will come across as unsociable or unpopular in the absence of their own photographic proof. The superficiality of it all is both painful and dystopian.
While we may point and laugh at videos such as ‘Fitzroy Garage Sesh’ or ‘Pints, chit-chat and good people >’, they are both characteristic of a spectacle that most social-media users are guilty of. The want to be watched, to have our curated ways of life perceived and critiqued by an online audience, is widespread. This obsession, which we are all aware of, has made us collectively sceptical of each other’s actions. How often have you gone to prime people-watcher spots (Metro Café, I am looking at you) and remarked to yourself ‘That guy is only reading Dostoevsky to look cool’? And perhaps he is only doing it for that reason, but the fact that that is the first thought that springs to mind is very telling of the generation that we exist within. The Want to be Watched is really quite lonely. A felt need to let the world know that we are hanging out, working out or grinding it out calls into question why we complete these actions at all. With shortening patience, I am awaiting the ‘Pics or it Didn’t Happen’ Black Mirror episode.
