infam10135

Imagine you're in a hip, overpriced London café that prides itself on using milk from cows who listen to classical music (but not Bach, the barista had proclaimed, because no one likes Bach). You're sipping on a chai latte that costs more than your utility bill when the door swings open. In strolls Harry Styles, dressed in a ratty sweater. You are almost entirely certain that you’ve seen an exact replica in your grandma’s closet.

He orders avocado toast (because of course he does) and requests for a drizzle of organic, fair-trade, artisanal honey on top. As he turns, he gaze zeroes in on you. With a stride that suggests he’s walking down a runway rather than a café floor, he approaches your table.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, gesturing to the chair opposite you.

You nod, dumbfounded. He sits anyway. You wonder if all popstars suffer from severe hearing loss.

When you say nothing, only staring at him blankly, he launches into a monologue about the “art of thrifting” and how vintage clothing is actually a “socio-environmental statement,” occasionally but repeatedly mentioning something about a “carbon conundrum” and “forest shrinking.” When he sees you glance at his nails, which are painted in an admittedly brilliant turquoise, he explains that they’re the same shade as the tears of an extinct butterfly species.

You continue to nod at places that seem appropriate—should you have corrected him when he said ecological equilateral?—and ‘hmm’ and ‘ah’ whenever he seems to want your opinion. It’s oddly mesmerizing, strangely profound, and yet utterly bizarre.

When he decides that he’s imparted enough of his infinite wisdom, he stands abruptly, leaving you with his half-eaten piece of artisanal toast as a souvenir. He offers a parting piece of advice: “Remember, it’s not just toast, it’s a statement,” before disappearing out the door as quickly as he had appeared.

You blink, expensive toast in hand, feeling unexpectedly enlightened in matters of ocean swelling, planetary rejuvenation, and ozone dissolution.

Making Money Presentation

Final Project Presentation

I don't have much commentary on political fanfiction, nor did I really want to know the particulars of Crubio, but I think there's a lot of truth to the idea that "empathy is [the] fuel" to fanfiction. To fandom.

Everything we've covered in class so far really speaks to the emotional connection between fan and celebrity. Why do people do fan-like activities? Why congregate into a fan space? Fandom is unique in that it is such a chaotic, free space. It's easy to diminish it into something that only teenage girls are into because they want to write smut about their favorite idol, but I think fandom is so much more than that--as evidenced by the fascinating existence of raunchy senatorial affair fic on AO3--and it's something we should keep in mind, whether as a creator, a fan, or anything in between.

To stay within the sphere of the article, let us consider the cult of personality around Donald Trump. It's a little strange to draw parallels between Trump supporters and, say, MCU stans, but they are very much there. I still remember in 2019 when fans were rooting for Avengers: Endgame to steal Avatar's spot as the top grossing movie of all time. People were going to see the movie 2, 3, 4, 10 times in hopes of even slightly shifting the odds (I admit I also saw movie 3 times). That film was such a cultural phenomenon in that it was the culmination of over a decade's worth of content; people grew up with these characters, these stories, and nothing would stop them from experiencing the ultimate climax of the journey. I still remember the absolute surge of adrenaline that the final portal scene evoked in the theater on opening night--I can honestly say that that was probably one of my favorite moments ever, being in that shared community space as we all experienced that devastatingly electric energy.

Now I hate to taint that memory with Trump supporters, but from a purely detached, observational standpoint, I imagine that the experience of that night must be, in some way, similar to how Trump supporters must feel at their rallies. They love the guy and want nothing more than to see him win. He even said it himself: he could shoot someone on 5th Ave and they wouldn't care. As much as my friends and I love to ridicule those that show up to his rallies decked up in MAGA gear from head to toe...they are, ultimately, a fandom. A much more dangerous, ignorant fandom that speaks to the dangers of our country's future, but still, a fandom.

So, as Hinck says, “we’ve entered a world in which fan identities matter. And if we underestimate fandom — and the importance of fan identities — it’s dangerous.” Fandom might be fun to laugh at because of goofy fanfiction or overly imaginative art, but like any other social phenomenon, it says a lot more about the human condition than we think.

You know, I actually think about "Larry" (Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson) quite a lot. Not in that I consider myself a Larrie (I would actually go as far as to say I'm an "anti"), but because of how out of control it's gotten.

I used to be very active on stan twitter and tumblr. It's fascinating, looking back on it, being in the midst of this community that was so easily accessible (tons of people love Harry Styles!) but somehow simultaneously niche as hell. Everyone knows who Harry Styles and One Direction is. Less people may know who Louis Tomlinson is, but anyone even remotely in the vicinity of that online sphere are most likely intimately familiar with Larries and what they represent.

The closing statement of the article--about how "it’s relatively harmless to concoct ridiculous narratives about celebrities. Just ensure that they stay consigned to the realm of fiction," is easier said than done. Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson haven't been spotted in the same location in over half a decade. They used to be inseparable during the days of One Direction, but ever since the split they've both shied away from ever interacting publicly. Louis even mentions how "it created this atmosphere between the two of [them] where everyone was looking into everything [they] did."

Somehow, I don't doubt that the reason for this distance is directly related to Larries--they've said everything from insinuating that Louis's baby is fake (????), that "management" has prevented either of them from speaking out, and that Harry choosing to wear this very specific shade of green is so obviously a cry for help.

Once again, I feel like this is such an optimistic take on celebrity and fan connections. Crowdsourcing a place to stay through your fans sounds insane. Maybe I'm just a little tainted by my own experience with fandom, but I cannot possibly fathom any artist I like (that also has a sizable fanbase) wanting to connect to their fans on such a personal level merely out of safety concerns.

Fake news is so ubiquitous in today's media climate that it's a little scary reading about how easy it is to manipulate the new cycle with no resources, let alone what a well-funded think tank with a political agenda could accomplish (not that Americans are unfamiliar with that at this point).

I never thought about how bloggers and journalists ultimately pull from the same sources. Sure, one has a much more rigid filter than the other, but all the information trickles down (or is it up?) from the same place. Twitter, Reddit, and other aggregator sites provide the perfect platform for news to spread through the masses. Some part of me--despite the mixed experiences that I've had--misses the pre-Elon Twitter. Though the veracity of the content was always, on some level, in question, Twitter was the perfect platform for real time updates and news on virtually everything. I remember following a variety of journalists and update accounts and receiving information that I would later read about in the Times; often I would be like, "this is old news. I saw it on Twitter a week ago!"

I think the more I read about the industry, the more sad it makes me. Child stars as a general topic is already upsetting in most cases, but to read about how so many of them (and their families!) are willing to pay a couple grand just for the chance to parade in front of agents who really could not care less about 99% of them feels a little dystopian for my taste. The line about how many kids were “only too eager to announce their height, weight, waistline, age, and ethnic origin as a sort of pedigree” feels like it belongs in an Onion article. On some level I can understand the hunger to be famous—who doesn’t want to be lauded and admired and “people liking [you] and hanging on [your] every word,” as Merlander says—but also, treating these children as commodities that have the potential to be groomed into the “perfect” celebrity is so dehumanizing.

“Smarts view Marks with scorn.”

The hierarchy within fandom is so fascinating to me (even though I’ve lived it myself). Why is it that in every capacity, some people have the debilitating need to be above others? I suppose it’s natural to establish a sort of “pecking order,” so to speak, but at the end of the day, fandom is a social experience that is formed by mutual affection for a specific thing, whether it be an artist, an activity, or in this case, performative extreme sports. Categorizing certain fans as “Marks” because they’re easily conned by the performance aspect of wrestling just seems…demeaning.

I'm less interested in Ashton Kutcher's digital celebrity and more so in the psychology behind what makes reality TV stars so appealing. Am I allowed to say that? I just don't find it particularly fascinating given how ubiquitous it is now (as acknowledged in the article).

But reality TV? So trashy. Unbelievably gaudy and ridiculously ridiculous. And yet so, so fun to consume.

I don't think the perception of reality TV stars has particularly changed. They're still seen as inferior to "real" movie stars--even big names like the KarJenners are criticized constantly for the petty drama that features on their family show. But people love to watch them anyway. Why?

We talk about parasocial relationships and how fans form them with their favorite celebrities as they become more and more invested in their lives. I think there tends to be this misconception that parasocial relationships only exist in a positive sense, that it only "counts" if it's someone that you're a fan of or that you look up to. But parasocial relationships can also be contentious. Pratt and Montag were paid for doing the most benign, mundane things. The Kardashian name holds a crazy amount of influence despite not having the most savory associations. The general public does not like these people (or at least, they don't fall over them the same way they do Beyoncé or Keanu Reeves), but they have the capability to generate incredible amounts of revenue...because people are invested in them and their drama.

Ah, yes--the New Yorker tote. Walk through WSP and you'll see tons (tote bags in general, actually. they're very hip).

I certainly think there are specific items that people buy for the cultural capital more than their exclusivity. Sporting a raggedy tote bag with AirPod Maxes and panda dunks marks you as someone "in the know," someone that fits into a specific brand that others might find appealing. We all profile each other based on what we're wearing, however uncomfortable that statement that might make some people feel. This is a much more lighthearted take on that fact of life in comparison to the previous blog post (the logic of stupid poor people), but it rings true nonetheless.

Never had it occurred to me that these “gatekeepers”, as Tressie calls them, make it a point to let others know when they have properly signaled that they are, in fact, not poor. It makes it seem especially nefarious when brought to light, even if the involved parties are not necessarily aware of the dynamic (though I think many are, just unconsciously).

Content creators as celebrities are interesting to me because I feel like they sit fairly low in the “hierarchy” of fame; they’re considered less than actors, writers, producers, etc. and the very label of “content creator” has such negative connotations despite the fact that that is ultimately what all celebrities do. This tracks with the perception that being an influencer is the easy path to being “famous”, as Gaby Dunn mentions—that someone can just start posting on Instagram and make loads of cash from one sponsored post.

The demonization of the business side of the industry also runs rampant in all avenues of entertainment, not just content creation. I think a lot of artists are very overprotective of their property over fear of it being twisted into something outside of their control. While there is some credence to that fear, the “pervasive prejudice that is anti-business”, as Amy Whittaker puts it, is something that I resonate with. I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with making strategic business decisions to make your art sustainable. Actors do it all the time—many work part time jobs in order to make pursuing their dream “feasible”, but for some reason that falls under the starving artist archetype while sponsored content does not. Creative passions alone are not feasible for 99% of those that follow them. It is so unbelievably difficult for even one person out of the millions that aspire to be a “celebrity” to make it out of the fray and generate enough income to break even.