Pinterest is the superior social platform
While I’m pinning fishtail braids and cabins, this platform is pinning me as a cliché. And I’m not mad at it.
Jia Tolentino once said, in a podcast interview, that the internet doesn’t have to be like this. That social media doesn’t have to be the anxiety-inducing thing we’ve landed on today. She credits the internet for much of her success, but she also confesses a longing to get offline and to abandon social media—along with its knack for inciting comparison spirals and diminishing our attention spans—altogether. I get where she’s coming from.
In the same conversation, Jia reminds the listener that we, humans, made the internet. So hypothetically, we are the ones who should be able to shape it into a thing that feels good, right? Instead, the one we’ve made is deeply addictive and ego serving. In the chapter titled “The I In Internet” of Trick Mirror, Jia writes, “The internet is designed to encourage the performance of the self. And the performance of the self is amplified on social media.” I’d love an iteration of the internet that isn’t designed to emphasize human nature’s tendency to self center. I’m tired of performing online—exhausted, actually—and if I have to have a digital life, I’d welcome one that doesn’t encourage my own subconscious (and conscious) naval-gazing.
I’ve been thinking about Jia’s argument that the internet should be malleable and that, in a perfect world, we would be able to design our experience here. I like the idea that there’s a version of the internet in an alternative universe that only builds upon the good parts of an online life—the ones that inspire and connect and expand our worlds. In recent months, I’ve realized that Pinterest might be the best expression of an internet that doesn’t sink me into a dark abyss. It’s an iteration of social media that responds to user interests without taking things too far. It’s light and fun and not horribly addictive. This is how I want my online experience to feel.
Up until recently, I was neglecting my Pinterest account. My boards were tired. My algorithm was fried. I was getting served the same 2014 street style and blonde girl images I was feening over in the nascent stages of my moodboard-making life. I had abandoned the platform, and in return, it had abandoned me. We didn’t know each other anymore, and the feed was evidence of our estrangement.
And then, about a month ago, I needed a reference images for my new apartment. What shade of ivory should my linen curtains be? How should I arrange my living room? Does it look weird if there’s shelving on only one side of the mantel? These are questions Instagram cannot answer, nor could TikTok (although I could probably find some niche, anecdotal videos on the topic). It was a job for Pinterest. After dusting off the old feed with a few newly pinned images across home, beauty and personal style, my algorithm was back. My questions were answered, linen curtain inspiration secured. And beyond that, thanks to some mindless pinning, my feed is refreshed. The blonde shades are darker, the pants are baggier. Where there was once midcentury design inspo, there is now wood shaker furniture and quilts. My nature-living aspirations are fulfilled with soothing oceanic views. The speed and accuracy and efficiency of the algo was crazy, and while that’s scary in some way, it’s less scary and offensive than the Instagram algo. I’m okay with Pinterest leading me down a path of becoming a Salter House-loving, linens wearing, hopes-to-have-her-own-garden-one-day girl. While I’m pinning fishtail braids and cabins, this platform is pinning me as a cliché. And I’m not mad at it.
I’m certain that Pinterest is not the solve Jia is looking for, but it is the only platform providing the lobotomy I knew I needed. I’m hopeful that pinning could ween me off scrolling or reels watching. I’m moved by the idea that my world, digitally, could be a collage of water and sailboats and vintage slip dresses and wood furniture. While that is definitely a version of naval-gazing, maybe it’s a better version. It’s a version where I don’t find myself comparing my body to another’s, or wondering if I need to augment my face somehow, or wishing I had more creative output on this platform. I don’t find myself stalking or ruminating or seeing headlines that send me into existential dread while perusing Danish daybeds.
On Pinterest, I’m minding my own business while pondering the placement of my sofa. I’m gliding on the surface of my mind, taking a break from critical thinking or negative thought patterns. I’m wondering if my pendant lamp should be rattan or paper. There’s a version of my brain that gets stuck in deep thoughts and is unsure how to function in the present climate, and there’s a version that is transfixed by a cozy living room. Sometimes, I need to tap into the latter.
In digital world where we have been given very little agency around how we exist within it, I’m opting for a visual collage of uplifting images and the feeling that maybe I can exist within those images. At worst, it’s delusional. At best, it’s scrolling and aspiring in its finest form.
im so aligned
I love Pinterest, it’s my friend!