3 hours ago
4
Ever since the Tumblr-scrolling days of my youth, my ultimate goal in life has always been to be seen as someone who is undoubtedly, undeniably, unquestionably “cool”.
As most other former insecure, desperate-to-be-perceived-as-cool teenagers would attest to, the formation of our identities directly coincided with the media, fashion, celebrities or philosophies we were fans of at the time. It was paramount that what we happened to enjoy got the stamp of approval by whatever chic society we were chomping at the bit to be accepted into, digital or otherwise.
For me, it was the internet It Girls that dominated my laptop’s screen during the early-to-mid-2010s, who expressed their love for Cigarettes After Sex, Lana Del Rey, FKA twigs, and TV shows and movies almost exclusively made 20 years prior.
I wanted nothing more than to be just like them and to be a part of the Cool Girl Club.
I told my friends at school that I was a fan of “this old show called Twin Peaks”, saying it loudly enough so my fellow classmates would be in awe of how enigmatic my interests were, spellbound by my affinity for a TV show belonging to our parents’ generation.
You’d think that by now, as I’m pushing steadily towards the big three-oh, this immature tendency of proving my coolness to an uncaring crowd would have all but dissipated by now but, alas, old habits die hard.
I don’t know why I have such an insatiable need for online strangers to know that I’m a fan of Agnès Varda films and Clarice Lispector novels – even writing this feels like a shameless and embarrassingly smug brag – but I know that I’m not the only artsy-fartsy wannabe who uses their interests as a way to keep up with the esoteric Joneses.
Who among us does not feel a sense of blissful pride whenever someone compliments our music taste, or asks for our movie recommendations, or – most thrilling of all – actually listens to and watches the things we told them to check out? There’s no greater joy than to inaugurate someone else into your very own Cool Club, where you can rejoice in your shared coolness over liking the same cool things.
However, herein lies an entirely new, postmodern problem: if everybody is able to achieve almost-instantaneous coolness these days, is there still such a thing as being “cool”? Can anything truly be considered “underground” or “niche” when it can be easily uncovered and dissected through a simple scroll on whatever social media site, discussion board or lengthy video essay we happen to be plugged into at the time?
And does anybody even care about being seen as cool anyway, or is it just me who still (humiliatingly) yearns for it?
I can scream as loudly as I’d like from the rooftop about Cool Girl-approved media, but that won’t reduce the amount of time I’ve spent rewatching the same episodes of Bob’s Burgers, or stop the inevitability of The Hampster Dance finding its way on to my Spotify Wrapped later this year.
I suppose it’s time to face the music: I am entirely uncool.
And while my teenage self would internally combust in shame over this revelation, I have come to realise that there is no freer feeling than just embracing one’s own unique lameness, mainstream interests and all.
Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy dipping my toes into highbrow art whenever I get a craving for it, and I have discovered some of my all-time favourite things through my never-ending journey of achieving ultimate coolness. My teenage self was genuinely moved and entranced by David Lynch’s classic Americana mystery series – as countless others before and after me – but that won’t stop me from finding joy in other, more “basic” forms of media.
There have been times where listening to Abba’s iconic breakup hit The Winner Takes It All has brought me close to tears, and I’m not too proud to admit that I’ve similarly been affected by episodes of cheesy sitcoms and low-budget flicks from my childhood. Hell, I’d even describe Adventure Time as one of my favourite shows of all time, fart jokes and all.
Perhaps that is what true coolness actually is; the ability to discover new ways of engaging and interpreting any artform we happen to be fans of so we can better understand why these things mean so much to us and, in turn, create a brand-new Cool Club that is open to anything we like, free of shame.
Anyway, time to log La Haine on to my Letterboxd account!
