Collective Individulism

So lately I have been thinking about the idea of generational identifiers and legacies, and the notion that different generations can be specifically labelled and described. Generalisations of Gen Y as expecting the best and offering less than are proffered by the media on an almost daily basis.

We shudder inside and cringe at another article espousing the same tired old shit. So, on that note…. Here’s another one! jokes.

What I am instead interested in is the idea of individualism in the citizenship of Gen Y. It seems that now more than ever before, the youth of society seems to regard defining themselves as unique from their cohort is an almost full time quest. We constantly shape and reidentify ourselves with reference to what others are doing.

An example? The emo dresses in black and listens to a particular style of music with which he can empathise as an expression of his individualism and unwillingness/inability to conform to mainstream society. Indeed. It seems he is so different and confronting to the ‘norms’ that a new retail market has emerged, with special ‘emo’ stores opening where said sad little teen can stock up on his chains, eyeliner and razor blades.

And this little gripe is not unique to the oft-maligned emo movement. This is a widespread phenomenon, and it leaves me thinking why is it that in seeking to define ourselves, to brand and identify our very beings, we have become so backwards focused?
Some examples you request? Why certainly.
-the Gen Y male sees the daily toil of those older than him, and is frightened of a corporate suit clad future. He grows dreadlocks, smokes pot and denounces capitalist inequality, envisaging himself as the contemporary embodiment of Marx. Expressing his manifesto not through timeless literary doctrine, he instead chooses his weapons as facebook, twitter and blogs, detailing his perceived alternate, groundbreaking profundity (smoking pot, dropping acid and drinking red wine with similarly inclined self-satisfying buddies) with his thousand dollar digital SLR camera provided through Daddy’s slavish devotion to the ‘Capitalist captors’, failing to acknowledge due gratitude to market forces for his privileged position and enviable Surry Hills terrace.

To a lesser extent, the proliferation of creative arts careers stands as a testament to our unwillingness to conform. We are no longer content with being teachers, accountants or public servants. We are educated citizens of society and have something to say! We seek to express our ideas through music, journalism, public relations, poetry, filmmaking, photography and art. And we expect compensation for our efforts dammit!

-the Hipster. Ah the Hipster. What to say here? The Hipster exists as a purely aesthetic cultural paradigm. He is concerned not with being at heart ‘different’, but merely appearing so. And let me clarify here. He is not concerned with difference, but merely anticipating the future mass trend and being one step ahead. Consider: skinny jeans, checked shirts, leather jackets, Wayfarer sunglasses, Palestinian scarves as an expression of style devoid of political context. The Hipster was there way before Supre. The same can be said for his music taste. He likes those bands which cling the periphery of success so that when they do taste that sweet achievement, he can bask in their glory by virtue of his long time support.

But being so fashion forward is tough work people! Not only must the Hipster balance his hairstyling and accessorising (a good hour of daily toil), he must also digest enough popular alternative literature to hold his own in a five minute superficial discussion of how Jack Kerouac and Hunter S. Thompson have been seminal influences in his life mantra to indicate faux-intellectualism, whilst ingesting sufficient illicit substances to maintain his hazy life view whilst being photographed by Hobogestapo AND updating his twitter on his iphone detailing just how different he is coz he drinks at Oxford Art Factory and plays in a shoegaze band too indie to even get a slot at Spectrum on a Wednesday night.

I could go on forever, but needless to say, it’s a busy life being different! (and on a side note, I completely reject L’s accusations that I am a hipster. Never!).

To a lesser extreme of offence, this definition of individual style by virtue of reference to the past into mass consumption is still unavoidable.

Woodstock is a Sienna Miller bohemian rhapsody of shit moccasins and fringed pleather. We can get our grunge acid wash fix channelling the subversive, alternative 90’s movement from that sartorial slut of a fashion assault, Supre. The 80’s have been further tarnished from their original sin through the bombardment of festival fluoro, slogan shirts and American Apparel technicolour shirts. Factory Girl taught thousands of teenagers how to emulate the style of my original icons, Edie Sedgwick and Nico from Warholian New York. Indeed not even the unique legacy of the British Mod movement is safe, with website Modcloth.com offering unique, vintage Mod pieces. Unique, but just a click away? Hmmm…

But this back referencing is not limited to fashion. A band lists Velvet Underground as an influence, and in doing so believes it asserts a timeless self-referential attempt at relevance. A group such as Tame Impala can dominate the alternative music scene despite blatantly ‘referencing’ British psych-rockers of the days of old, Cream. Little Red can whip women into a frenzy with a Mod Rock/Be-bop/50’s fusion. The many thousands of nouveau-folk and anti-folk groups exist purely by virtue of the original doyennes of folk.
Why is it that we so openly reference the past? Is it a similar phenomenon to the re-emergence of Keynesian interventionism in national economics at the failure of unstructured market flow? By this, I mean do we so slavishly adhere to an idealistic reimagining of times and styles past, that we have in our own typical nature, homogenised them? Has the individualism espoused by our dominant economic model and political paradigm manifested itself into a cultural behemoth so transiently integrative it has transformed us into one individually collectivist cliché?

Are we now so connected that immediacy leaves us pining for a time when we did not participate in a viral cycle of text vomit, status updates of pathetic, bland and inane stupidity typified by those imbeciles that communicate lyk dIS 2 eAcH oThEr bRo???

Do we wish for an age where style and identity were indeed individual, and not plagiarised from Chictopia, Topshop and other mass media outlets accessible through the click of a mouse?

Or do we just have a false conception of times past? An understanding of eras shaped by cinematic, romantic depictions of reminisced moments of an idealised youth which seem so separate from our own realities and responsibilities?
Or have we just lost any sense of individualism and creativity of spirit?