March 28, 2024
Hello and welcome to our new Society Newsletter!
Every Thursday we'll be sharing this newsletter exclusively with you all at The Society Premium level!
Chelsea will share her personal thoughts on a different topic every week as well as her latest Flea Market Finds.
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❤️ TFD
For those who are somehow still unaware (despite my constant talking and posting about it), I'm currently in the midst of a home decor overhaul. We're doing a built-in library/bar in a nook in our dining room, for which I'll be doing a full cost and design breakdown once it's finished, and using that opportunity to spruce up our living room as well. Aside from the installation of the library, the rest of the work is pretty superficial: swapping small pieces of furniture, adding a slipcover to a chair, doing a gallery wall, and other little things that visually look very different without demanding too much work. I've committed to only doing secondhand or DIY for these things -- I got my gorgeous coffee table on Facebook Marketplace for only $80! -- and so far, I've been really happy with the process.
It has, however, proven to be a reason to reflect on the role social media plays in my life. I'm a pretty unique case as it pertains to social media: it's been mostly where my job takes place, and why I'm able to do it, for the past 13 years. It would be hypocritical and dishonest of me to say that it can't be a force for good, or help people without structural means reach success or community. But I also know, in having to keep such a close relationship with these platforms as part of my job, that the positives can easily become overshadowed by the darkest impulses social media can bring out of us. Aside from deliberately seeking out people saying horrendous things about me -- something I've only done a few times in my life, to unsurprisingly disastrous effect -- the most common side effect of social media for me has been a sense of inadequacy, especially as it pertains to my home.
I'm lucky, I guess, in that I don't feel particularly sensitive to images of women younger or more beautiful than me, or wearing nicer clothes, or traveling to destinations I've never visited. Maybe some of those insecurities would have more dire effects, or even lead me to do unhealthy things in an attempt to become closer to my ideal. But my home and how I keep it have always been central to my pride and self-identity, and for so long I felt the acute frustration of my taste outpacing my budget, of knowing what I would do if I could but not having the financial (or logistical) ability to execute on it. As I've gotten older and more financially stable, and have secured a mortgage affordable enough to allow for some investments in the home, I've increased my ability to manifest the ideas in my head -- but I've also realized that this isn't always sufficient to being content.
Even if you are not prone to lifestyle inflation, certain social media behaviors will all but ensure you fall victim to it. Yes, I was able to afford things like home renovations finally, but that just opened up a new world of content to consume, to be envious of, to feel inadequate next to. And while many of us have internalized a kind of shorthand for designer clothes or accessories -- we see a Chanel bag, we know it's thousands of dollars -- the world of home design is much more mysterious, even to those relatively in the know. You could have snagged a midcentury sideboard on the street for free and fixed it up, or you could have bought it on Chairish for $8,000. You could have moved into an apartment that happened to have gorgeous moldings and mantles, or you could have had them all custom-built for the price of a down payment on a home.
Making things worse, the algorithmic flattening of content ensures that we never quite know what we're looking at. There are no price tags, no sense of scale, often there isn't even proper disclosure if what we're seeing was paid for by a brand. Everyone is playing on a vastly different field, and yet we see them all jumbled together, united under the vague umbrella of "inspiration." I'm constantly recommended home decor influencers to follow, and when I go to their pages, it's a nightmare of FTC violations and deceptive labeling. That couch over there? It was gifted last year by Room & Board, but they only ever disclosed that the first time they posted it. They love highlighting that all their furniture is secondhand, but never mention that they're paying five times the average new price for things on 1stDibs. Do you like that soap caddy? You can find an amazing dupe on their Amazon Storefront!
And then, of course, there is "makeover" culture. Beyond frequently overhauling their home decor in the interest of new and dynamic content, there is also the mini-reveal every time we enter a new holiday or season. Did you know there is an Easter tablescape, and that it's different from an early-spring tablescape? Then there is the "harvest" decor of late summer, soon to be replaced by whatever Halloween knick knacks most closely align with the influencer's personal aesthetic. Everything is a before & after, and the only real currency is newness, because when your home is your business, it is constantly in need of something new to sell.
Financial smoke and mirrors aside, the bigger issue here -- at least as it pertains to our ability to navigate social media in a healthy way -- is how much of this very real business is being passed off as a glimpse into a woman's authentic home life. Just today, an "imperfect little English cottage" popped up on my explore page, complete with an actual chicken running around the impeccably decorated dining room (??). The montage was ostensibly one of candid home scenes, meant to evoke a sense that you are a fly on the wall of a normal family's life. Only in digging back into her archives will you see that this "imperfect" home is a very lucrative source of monetization for the woman curating it, that constantly updating her space is the foundation of her business, and that many of the expensive items you're seeing whimsically scattered around were gifted to her in collaboration with a massive brand. There is nothing authentic or, frankly, even particularly homey about it -- but we need to sell the dream in order to sell the product.
We wonder why we can't achieve these things, and we feel bad about ourselves when we look around at our own spaces and lives. And it's not an accident: this portrayal of monetized, professional content as a candid look at someone's personal life is an intentional misrepresentation. By presenting this ultra-curated, ultra-expensive image as something authentic, there is an insinuation that you could have it, too. They're technically not professional decorators or architects, so you're theoretically on a peer-to-peer level, just two amateurs who happen to love design. No wonder your own space feels so lackluster in comparison.
Taken together, all of this dishonesty combined with the impossibly high price tags means searching for inspiration online -- something I love to do! -- can become a game of inadequacy minesweeper. Aspiration can quickly curdle into envy, and the constant imitation creates a cycle of consumerism where you are aiming for something unique, and landing on something empty. To that end, and because I want to find healthy ways to feed my creativity without compromising my sanity, I have created some guidelines. I have rules for how I use social media, how I build moodboards, and how I find accounts I can feel good about following. Next week will be all about sharing those things, so stay tuned and join me on the journey towards a healthy relationship with social media!
As someone who lives to browse flea markets and estate sales, but can only purchase so many things for her own home, I'm going to be rounding up some of my favorite picks each week. Some will be local to NYC, some will be available nationwide, and they will span a variety of price points. Secondhand shopping can be intimidating at first, but it's — in my humble opinion — the only way to shop for home goods! Join me every week for my journey through the world of vintage home shopping.
1. Sarah Brown Abstract Oil Painting "Buttercups + Bluejeans," Circa 2024, $17 [LIVE BIDDING]
I love larger-scale abstract paintings for living spaces, as they almost feel like really cool wallpaper to me. They can be a more seamless part of the decor, and therefore give you a lot more options for how you decorate around it.
2. Royal Cauldon English Earthenware "Majestic" Dinner Plates, Early to Mid-20th C., $9 [LIVE BIDDING]
This weekend, my friend hosted an afternoon tea at her apartment with cups and plates inherited from her grandmother, and it was SUCH a vibe. Although in my teeny NYC apartment I don't have much room for extra dishes, I LOVE vintage pieces that can automatically make a meal feel whimsical and special.
3. CB2 Valzer Rattan Dining Chair Set (2), $135
Nothing particularly interesting to say about these, other than it's a great price for a pair of really chic chairs! (But maybe I'm biased, because I love rattan.)
4. Two-Toned Square Leather Wrapped Table Lamp with Gold Trim, $10 [LIVE BIDDING]
While I don't like the lampshade on this, I really love the base and think with a different shade it could be a really beautiful piece for an office or reading nook.