DISRUPTING THE MONOCULTURE

Everything is starting to look the same. So, where the hell do we go from here?

I think I've lost my appetite for the internet. I've been sick for the past few days, which means I've consumed a decent amount of NeoCitran and spent more time scrolling than any functioning adult should admit. Somewhere between a woman explaining her morning routine and the seventeenth advertisement for something I apparently cannot live without, I noticed something.

Everything looks the same.

The faces, the fashion, the photography, even the inspirational quotes sound like they've all been seeing the same therapist. Every brand is redefining something, every product is elevating the everyday, and everyone is discovering their authentic self in a beautifully lit kitchen. It's all very lovely, but I'm getting bored.

There's a word for what we're experiencing: monoculture. In agriculture, it means growing a single crop across an entire field. From above, it looks almost perfect, with neat rows stretching to the horizon.

Lately, the internet reminds me of that field. We're all looking at similar references, following the same trends, and producing increasingly polished versions of things we've already seen. Even rebellion has developed a dress code. Every brand wants to be a disruptor, usually in the exact same font. So how do we disrupt the monoculture without turning disruption into another trend?

More searching. Less serving.

Lately, everything seems to arrive on a silver platter. What's cool, what's new, what we're supposed to wear, watch, and want. I appreciate a good recommendation (particularly when it comes to dinner), but I miss stumbling across something surprising.

I grew up with dial-up internet, when downloading a song was practically an afternoon activity (and omg if my sister picked up the phone!!!) It was a new world where you could stumble across some bizarre website or discover a musician nobody had heard of. Half the time, you had no idea what you were looking for, which was precisely what made it interesting.

You developed taste from hunting, searching and sharing with friends over in person hangs. You found things you loved and things you couldn't stand, and along the way, you figured out what interested you. Now everything is delivered. Our music, our entertainment, even our potential romantic partners arrive in convenient little lineups for our consideration.

I appreciate convenience as much as anyone, but maybe we've traded a little too much discovery for it. There's a difference between finding something you love and being told what you'll probably love based on 6 things you liked last Tuesday.

And then there's AI. I should mention that I love AI (and yes a human is writing this haha). I've been experimenting with it for years, and as a creative director and business owner, I've accumulated what can only be described as a small staff of digital employees. None of whom have requested vacation time, which I appreciate. But I also recognize how easy it is to ask for an idea before you've really had one.

When we use similar prompts, draw from the same visual references, and train our tools on existing culture, we're bound to encounter a certain amount of repetition.

A few weeks ago, I'd released an animated creative called Bite Size Beauty, my own animated Electric Lemonade character who appears in everyday situations and offers unsolicited beauty advice. Then yesterday I came across a Prada campaign that felt surprisingly familiar and absolutely gorgeous btw. I'm obviously not suggesting Prada has someone secretly monitoring my laptop, but it was fascinating to see two entirely separate creative directions arrive in such similar territory. Nobody had copied anybody. We'd simply been swimming in the same cultural pool.

Of course, creative influences have always worked this way. Fashion practically depends on it. But when millions of people are consuming similar imagery and suddenly have the tools to reproduce quicker than ever, I wonder what happens to originality.

Did it get lost along with the search?

Beauty is a particularly interesting case.

I've spent most of my adult life working with images, and now I own a skincare company, so I've voluntarily entered the business of looking at people's faces. And faces are starting to look remarkably alike.

We've never had more tools, treatments, or possibilities for self-expression, yet we're gravitating toward a surprisingly similar idea of beautiful. I find this fascinating, especially because beauty has always been so subjective. I'm certainly not here to tell anyone what to do with their face. I love makeup, skincare, and the wonderful absurdity of spending forty-five minutes getting ready to appear effortlessly attractive. But what gets lost when we all start chasing the same result?

The beauty industry itself isn't immune. Spend enough time looking at skincare campaigns and you'll notice an extraordinary number of immaculate bathrooms, minimalist bottles, and women with perfect skin looking mildly inconvenienced by a piece of fruit. I say this with affection because I've probably pinned that photograph to a mood board.

When you're building a brand, there's a constant temptation to study what's working and make your own version. It's perfectly reasonable business advice, although perhaps not the greatest recipe for something that’s unique.

I’m not here to get my Original Branding brownie badge. Far from it. I just like stirring the pot because right now especially, the bottom is burning.

So, where do we go from here?

I would love to say I had an awesome plan for disrupting this weird monoculture we’re creating, and if I did, somebody would probably turn it into a carousel. I do suspect the answer has something to do with looking beyond what's being served to us.

I've been spending more time with old photography books and family photo albums. I love the terrible lighting, questionable hairstyles, and photographs where somebody's thumb covers half the lens. Funny how those are usually the pictures everyone wants to keep. There are entire worlds of inspiration that have nothing to do with whatever is trending online. Art galleries, libraries, old movies, maybe even a little mirco dose stroll through the woods….

Lately, I've even developed a strange affection for typos. Somebody writes their instead of there, and I almost want to hug them. A real human being was here, typing too quickly and getting on with their day. It's why I still handwrite notes for Electric Lemonade orders, despite the fact that my brain and hand communicate like are talking to each other from different planets.

So what comes next? Hopefully a lot more heart, a renewed appreciation for individual taste, lots of unusual references, and peculiar little things that make somebody's work unmistakably theirs. I mean, if we’re all drawing inspiration from the same things, using the same tools and following the same templates, how can we expect anything other than a sea of sameness?

I’ll do my best to do my best.

xo Shelley