Urge to Pinterest Rising...

Good morning, darlings. I had a bunch of wee things this morning, but then I went down a frustration spiral and hit gold, and I’m running late, so here goes!

In "Bros Before Homes,” Phoebe Maltz Bovy discusses the “subtle sexism” of the “minimalism trend,” namely the current cultural fetishization of manly adventures versus Pinterest guilt. You know, how outdoor equipment and Bond-like getaways are marketed to men, while women are encouraged to delight in handmade salads in a freaking jar.*

But it’s the lede of the piece that kills me, wherein she quotes a Toronto writer who proudly but anonymously proclaimed in an online essay that he still sleeps in his childhood bed and spends his $130,000 salary on "wild, rare, unforgettable experiences.” How are we not discussing that a 31-year-old is proud of living at home and having his mother cook and clean for him so he can go and get waste-y faced with his buddy? That’s where I find the real issue, that this person feels he can say millennials are giving it all up to travel, while he funds it via his mother’s home labor (and let’s not talk about the classism of funding your worldly adventures via your family.)

And now I’m down a link rabbit hole, as it quotes this remarkable piece by Ruth Whitman (quoted: “While men are conditioned to dream big—to see their happiness in terms of adventure and travel, sex and ideas and long nights of hilarity—women are now encouraged to find deep fulfilment in staying home to origami our pants,”) that looks at how while women are no longer told to clean for their husbands, but are told they let themselves down if they can’t fold a tee-shirt perfectly. An action the aforementioned Douchey McCanuck can’t handle, and he gets a goddamned column in Toronto Life.

I so very much want to deep dive on this, but I only have five minutes and I can’t properly charge my rage machine in time.

Toodles and arrrrrrghjckdslnvjfladsncdfjnbka/dva,

Amy

*Which I myself make and feel bad when I screw them up arrrrgh….