I’ve always had a fascination with ‘life aesthetics’: charming sunset views, the pages of Real Simple, and the Pottery Barn catalog. When Ikea’s annual design book arrives, I often cancel plans just to indulge in its pages. At various stages of my life, even the Dixieline Lumber circular or a catalog filled with flowing garments and Buddha-inspired decor has satisfied my cravings. And then there’s Pinterest, the ultimate hub for life aesthetics, offering an endless stream of whatever inspires you: floral arrangements, upcycled clothing, patio designs, artisanal pickles.
Over the years, these life aesthetics have imparted many lessons. For instance, a recent issue of Sunset magazine suggested that every camping trip deserves a signature cocktail—ideally crafted with bourbon sourced from a quaint Oregon town. I had mistakenly thought that a simple six-pack of beer chilled in the river sufficed, but now I know better.
For most of my life, “well-dressed” merely meant that my undergarments weren’t visible and my shoes were a matching pair. Not anymore. I’ve learned that the round-toe nude ballet flats in my closet shorten my legs and must be exchanged for pointy-toed alternatives. Thank you, ironically named Real Simple. That illusion of an extra half-centimeter in leg length has significantly transformed my outlook.
And let’s not forget my freckles, which, after turning 40, were rebranded as “age spots.” Thankfully, a five-step regimen packed with ingredients that resemble a chemistry experiment can help reduce their visibility. I may go unnoticed without my “age spots,” but clearly, this is vital—there’s even a four-page article on it.
Without these life aesthetics, I wouldn’t realize that every gadget in our home is a potential germ fest. After grappling with the unsettling image of a graduate student quantifying the “fecal matter” particles released by toilet flushes, I recognized how germ-ridden our everyday lives are. Thus, I resolved to dedicate two hours each week to cleaning my devices, instead of indulging in leisurely activities like reading novels or enjoying beach walks.
Once, and I admit this with a tinge of shame, I attended a picnic with a hodgepodge of leftover items from my fridge: a half carton of cherry tomatoes, tortilla chips, and nearly empty hummus. After perusing my life aesthetics, I realized I should at least bring pressed vegan banh mi to avoid a mishap. I thought about dragging along my portable smoker for an elaborate West Coast clambake on reclaimed barn-siding tables, lit by bespoke luminaria. Instead, I simply brought an old beach towel to sit on.
The issue lies in the allure of these glossy magazines and catalogs. I yearn for my life to mirror those images—perfectly arranged throw pillows, the ideal lip color, and the latest food truck recommendations. In my moments of weakness (often influenced by a second glass of wine), it seems that cooking intricate meals (like homemade pea and mint ravioli that requires 13 ingredients but takes only 30 minutes!), donning outfits that cost $200, or painting my living room a serene shade of greige could finally make everything fall into place. This desire is magnified when my son is arguing against showering, despite the unmistakable scent that wafts from him after three bean burritos this week, served on a table cluttered with 742 back-to-school forms waiting for my attention, all in a dining room where Cheerios inexplicably litter the floor—though I can’t recall the last time I bought any.
Yes, I fantasize about being in that picture-perfect scene of a diverse group savoring smoked duck and sipping grapefruit-infused cocktails in a sunlit meadow. But it’s all a facade, right? A fairytale for adults. I could achieve that aesthetic if I quit my job, abandoned my hobbies, and sent packing the three messy humans who share my space. However, my job brings fulfillment, I enjoy my hobbies, and I have a strong attachment to my family. Attempting to emulate the perfection I see online in my leftover moments is utterly exhausting.
Thus, I’m attempting to break up with the relentless pursuit of self-improvement. Like any diligent 12-stepper or mindful practitioner, I’m starting with acknowledging the issue: My obsession with life aesthetics keeps me trapped in a cycle of doing, wanting, and buying in pursuit of an unattainable ideal. Ironically, this doesn’t bring me happiness.
Now, I just need to figure out my next steps—something I’ll contemplate after I finish preparing the fire-roasted poblano sauce for the enchiladas I found on a food blog that looked perfect for tonight’s guests.
Baby steps, folks. Baby steps.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the author’s obsession with ‘life aesthetics’ and the pressures of trying to achieve an idealized lifestyle through various media. It emphasizes the realization that the pursuit of perfection is unfulfilling and acknowledges the importance of prioritizing what truly matters in life.