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Time Business News
6 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Time Business News
BaddieHub: The Digital Playground of Confidence, Culture, and Controversy
The internet is full of developments; however, few leave an enduring cultural imprint. BaddieHub, a rising online term, isn't only a vacation spot or a platform—it's an embodiment of a virtual identification, a lifestyle-driven lifestyle, and, in a few cases, a lightning rod for controversy. It's a hub in which confidence seems to meet confidence, in which empowerment walks hand in hand with aesthetics, and in which the traces among authenticity and overall performance often blur. Is BaddieHub a website? A style? A movement? The answer is complicated. It's no longer confined to 1 platform or definition—it's a symbolic space in which the modern 'baddie' thrives, evolves, and disrupts norms. Before diving into BaddieHub, permit's explore the period 'baddie.' Once underground slang from hip-hop and concrete way of life, a 'baddie' has now been mainstreamed into a culture that dominates Instagram feeds, TikTok For You Pages, and Pinterest boards. A baddie is often associated with: Perfectly styled hair and laid edges Flawless makeup, snatched brows, and contoured cheekbones Fashion-forward outfits with streetwear and glam fusion A confident, sometimes fierce demeanor that says 'unbothered, undefeated' The baddie identity isn't just about beauty—it's about energy. A baddie is in charge of her life, her image, her income, and her presence. And BaddieHub is where that presence lives digitally. So, what exactly is BaddieHub? It doesn't refer to a single domain or platform, but rather an online cultural nexus where this aesthetic and persona flourish. It encompasses: Social media spaces (like TikTok, Instagram, Reddit, Snapchat) wherein creators post splendor routines, style hauls, and glow-up films. (like TikTok, Instagram, Reddit, Snapchat) wherein creators post splendor routines, style hauls, and glow-up films. Digital communities are centered on appearance, transformation, and confidence-building. are centered on appearance, transformation, and confidence-building. Informal marketplaces where bad influencers monetize their image through brand partnerships, modeling gigs, or premium content. where bad influencers monetize their image through brand partnerships, modeling gigs, or premium content. Controversial corners, where NSFW or adult content gets mixed in under the same aesthetic umbrella, raise both ethical and cultural debates. BaddieHub is not about one thing—it's about the intersection of identity, performance, and monetization in the internet age. To belong to BaddieHub is to understand the visual language of the modern baddie. Here's a breakdown of its signature styles: Makeup in BaddieHub isn't subtle—it's sculpted. Dramatic lashes, overlined lips, and airbrushed skin dominate the look. Hair, whether natural, wiggled, or treated, is always intentional and styled. The BaddieHub wardrobe is bold and bold. Crop tops, shape-fitting clothes, dressmaker footwear, declaration boots, oversized jackets—all play into the confidence-first aesthetic. The attitude completes the photograph: chin tilted, frame angled, captions like 'capture flights, no longer feelings' or 'awful and booked.' It's now not just a photograph—it's an announcement. BaddieHub walks a fine line between empowerment and overall performance. Some say it's an area wherein girls—especially women of color—reclaim their image and embody their sexuality without disgrace. Others argue that it reinforces poisonous beauty requirements, filters authenticity, and commodifies self-esteem. Body positivity : BaddieHub includes curvy, dark-skinned, plus-size, and LGBTQ+ creators, expanding beauty standards. : BaddieHub includes curvy, dark-skinned, plus-size, and LGBTQ+ creators, expanding beauty standards. Entrepreneurship : Many women earn serious income through their baddie personas—selling fashion, starting brands, or promoting products. : Many women earn serious income through their baddie personas—selling fashion, starting brands, or promoting products. Confidence Culture: For some, adopting a baddie identity is a mental shift. It's about reclaiming power and moving through life with boldness. Hyper-curation : Baddie culture thrives on perfection—edited photos, posed moments, curated lifestyles. It can feel performative or artificial. : Baddie culture thrives on perfection—edited photos, posed moments, curated lifestyles. It can feel performative or artificial. Consumerism : The look often requires products, procedures, and pricey clothes, reinforcing class divides. : The look often requires products, procedures, and pricey clothes, reinforcing class divides. Over-sexualization: Critics argue that 'baddie' visuals often toe the line of being overly sexualized for validation, especially through the male gaze. Let's be real—BaddieHub isn't just cultural. It's commercial. Influencers who fit the baddie mold are prime real estate for brands. They sell everything from: Hair bundles and lace-front wigs Eyelash extensions and lip gloss lines Waist trainers, fashion Nova outfits, and shapewear Fitness programs and cosmetic procedures Monetizing the baddie look is big business. Some creators have parlayed their online persona into six-figure incomes, building empires from glam alone. BaddieHub has become a digital economy powered by aesthetics. Here's where the conversation gets uncomfortable—but necessary. Some corners of BaddieHub consist of creators posting risqué, grown-up-themed content, often on platforms like OnlyFans, Fansly, or NSFW subreddits. While these systems allow for non-public autonomy and earnings, they also blur the line between empowerment and objectification. Some questions that arise: Is BaddieHub being hijacked by adult entertainment? by adult entertainment? Does it offer freedom or feed an algorithmic fantasy of beauty and ? or feed an of beauty and ? How do young users navigate this space safely and responsibly? BaddieHub includes gray zones, where empowerment, capitalism, and digital culture collide. Behind the filters and glam lies a mental health story that's often untold. Being a baddie, especially in the public eye, can be exhausting. Comparison culture makes followers feel inadequate. makes followers feel inadequate. Burnout from always performing and posting can set in. from always performing and posting can set in. Validation loops (likes, follows, comments) can affect self-worth. Some creators have stepped back or spoken out about the emotional toll of maintaining their baddie brand. This side of BaddieHub reminds us that curated confidence is not the same as real self-love. While rooted in Black American beauty culture, BaddieHub has gone global. Now you'll see: Middle Eastern influencers with modest-but-fierce baddie looks with modest-but-fierce baddie looks Asian creators merging K-beauty with baddie glam merging K-beauty with baddie glam Latinx influencers combining cultural flair with street style Each culture reinterprets the baddie aesthetic in a way that suits their values and platform, showing how fluid and adaptable the movement is. As trends shift and technology evolves, BaddieHub is also transforming. Here's what's next: With digital avatars becoming more human-like, will virtual baddies take over? Some already have millions of followers. There's a growing subculture of 'anti-baddies'—women rejecting filters, surgery, and glam in favor of natural confidence. A new type of baddie may emerge: raw, vulnerable, and real. Instead of public platforms, badie creators may retreat to private apps or encrypted groups to share their content away from the noise and the judgment. BaddieHub is not good or bad—it's a mirror of what the internet values. It reflects our preference to be seen, celebrated, fashionable, and on top of things. It's additionally a symbol of contradiction: authenticity filtered through aesthetics, empowerment entangled with capitalism. In the stop, BaddieHub isn't approximately searching like absolutely everyone else. It's approximately constructing a model of yourself that makes you experience just like the most important individual, even though that model most effectively exists on a display. So whether you embody it, critique it, or scroll beyond it, BaddieHub is right here, reshaping how we consider splendor, energy, and presence in the virtual age. TIME BUSINESS NEWS
Tom's Guide
3 days ago
- General
- Tom's Guide
This simple DIY air conditioner helped me fall asleep fast during a heatwave — here's how to try it
It's HOT in the UK right now where most homes aren't built with the luxury of air conditioning. Honestly, I've been sweltering in my heat-trap of an attic bedroom. Beside sleeping on one of this year's best cooling mattresses, this week I've been on the hunt for cooling sleep hacks that won't break the bank. One that keeps cropping up on my radar (ie my TikTok For You page) is the DIY air conditioning hack. The premise behind it is placing ice in front of a fan to circulate chilled air around your bedroom, helping to lower the room's temperature. Questionable, but we'll give it a go. From mouth tape to sleepy mocktails, TikTok is awash with questionable sleep hacks and my team of beady-eyed sleep experts and I are always keen to put them to the test to see if they have any legs to stand on. Here's what happened when I put the homemade air con through its paces... To be transparent, I usually sleep on the Eight Sleep Pod 4 mattress cover which does a grand job of regulating my temperature through warm nights. But to get an accurate gauge of how effective the homemade air con method is I turned it off last night and instead set up my fan and ice contraption next to my bed. Sitting up close to the fan I could certainly feel a cool breeze, so I was hopeful it would help me keep cool through the night. After some simple stretches, a bedtime tea and reading a couples of pages (my tried-and-test cooling nighttime routine) in the cool breeze brought by my DIY air con, I fell asleep quickly. But I'm not entirely praiseworthy. While it helped to lower my body temperature at bedtime to initiate sleep onset, the ice soon melted and I found myself waking up slight sweaty and flustered during the night as the fan reverted back to circulating the stuffy attic air. Honestly, in the current UK climes, I'm not certain any TikTok hack will secure totally uninterrupted sleep. Rest assured, there's no tools or flat packs required. Building a DIY air conditioner is actually a simple process with just two components: a fan and a bowl of ice (or frozen bottle). If you've opted for the frozen bottle fill a large (at least one litre) plastic bottle with water, filling it about 75% of the way to ensure there's room for the ice to expand without the bottle exploding. Otherwise, make sure your freezer is loaded with ice ahead of the evening. When it comes to setting up, place your fan on a stable surface near your bed and fill a large, low bowl with ice, be that ice cubes or your frozen bottle. For best results, aim to have the ice level with the airway of the fan, and in line with where you'll be sleeping. Turn on the fan when you start winding down for the night to allow time for your room to cool down before you hit the hay. I can't say I'll be swapping my Eight Sleep Pod for a DIY air con again. But if you're looking for a cheap cooling hack, it does the job. While it isn't completely free (fans, of course, take up electricity to run), it'll certainly save you bucks compared to running a full-home AC unit, or splurging on cooling sleep tech. (However, if you do have the budget, there are plenty of great cooling Prime Day sleep deals like up to $480 off the BedJet 3 Climate Comfort Sleep System). It turns out I was right to be sceptical about the DIY air con cooling hack. Yes, it can help cool your room down at bedtime, but it's inevitable the ice will eventually melt. So, I wouldn't recommend as a night-long cooling method, especially if, like me, you don't like the humming sound of a fan running at night. Instead, I recommend following the caveman method to block out warm air and sunlight from your home during the day, keeping it a cool haven rather having to work to cool it down at bedtime.
Cosmopolitan
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Cosmopolitan
Zel Punta Cana review: Rafael Nadal's wellness resort tested
Anyone feel like they can't move for wellness content right now? If it's not morning Pilates followed by a smoothie on Stories, or marathon training dominating my TikTok For You page, then it's couples sweating it out at a bootcamp in Ibiza. Think: back-to-back HIIT classes, green juices, and lights out by 9pm... not exactly how I remember doing Ibiza. It seems wellness has deeply woven itself into every aspect of our lives, spanning far beyond our day-to-day routines and into our holidays too. It's no longer something we leave at home, as evidenced by reports that suggest the wellness tourism industry is set to be worth a staggering $8.5 trillion by 2027. Clearly, our wellbeing is proactively shaping where we go – and what we do once we're there. As someone who works out regularly but still wants their holiday to feel like, well, a holiday, I wasn't sure where I fit into all this. I enjoy a morning gym session, sure, but I also want slow breakfasts, long lunches, poolside naps, and the freedom to switch off my alarm. So when I heard about Zel Punta Cana, tennis legend Rafael Nadal's new all-inclusive resort with Meliá in the Dominican Republic, I was intrigued. It promised a more relaxed take on wellness: workouts if you want them, cocktails if you don't. I set out to see whether a fitness-friendly trip could actually feel like a proper break, not a bootcamp in disguise. Here's what I found after my six days at Zel Punta Cana... Zel is a lifestyle hotel brand from Spanish group Meliá, created in partnership with Rafael Nadal, with existing locations in Mallorca and Madrid (and more on the horizon – watch this space). Its latest opening, Zel Punta Cana, brings the brand's signature mix of Mediterranean style and mindful movement to the Caribbean coast, with a promise to help guests unleash their inner athlete. Active wellbeing is at the heart of everything here. From my recent stay, I can confirm Zel Punta Cana ticks all the tropical escape boxes – beachfront setting, two palm-lined pools, garden suites with direct access to the water, and six standout restaurants, but what sets it apart is the sheer range of health and fitness-focused activities on offer (more on those below). This is far from your average all-inclusive. You can plan your day however you like (whether that's five fitness classes or zero) and all classes are included. Extras like tennis lessons or spa treatments cost extra and book up fast, so it's worth booking early. Spa treatments start at £37. If, like me, you're not into hardcore detoxes but still like to keep moving on holiday (I'll take a quick gym session in the morning and a margarita by sunset, thanks), Zel strikes the perfect balance. It's energising without being intense. You can move, you can rest, and you'll feel really good doing both. Book here I started my first full day with a guided walk along the beach. It's about a 15-minute walk from the resort, or you can hop in a buggy if you're feeling fancy. We then stuck by the water for a Hobie Cat sail — which, if you're wondering, is a small catamaran-style boat (I had to Google it too). It was less about actual sailing and more about kicking back and soaking up those dreamy Caribbean views (which suited me just fine). Later, I gave Pound a go, a high-energy workout that uses drumsticks and music to get your legs seriously burning. I'd never tried it before, but it was fun, sweaty, and surprisingly addictive. From there, every day struck its own perfect balance of chill and challenge, tailored entirely to how I felt. AeroYoga definitely tested me; I thought I was pretty flexible, but those poses pushed me harder than I expected. Thankfully, the instructor was great, guiding me through even the trickier moves like the inverted pigeon pose. Then there was BRRN, a slideboard workout where you wear slippery socks and glide back and forth to upbeat music. It sounds easy, but trust me, it really fires up your lower body and was unlike any workout I'd done before. There were also paddleboard yoga sessions, HIIT circuits, and group cycling. The five tennis courts are a major draw at ZEL Punta Cana – no surprise, given this is Rafael Nadal's project. And there's more on the way: the Rafael Nadal Tennis Centre, opening in September 2025, will expand the facilities with four padel courts, six pickleball courts, a gym, changing rooms, and a gift shop. I booked in for a private lesson (currently free of charge), but the courts are also open for casual games at no extra cost if you fancy a rally with your mates. If golf is more your thing, there's a 27-hole course nearby. Meliá guests get 50% off green fees, with a golf cart included. Prices start from around £75 for either 9 or 18 holes. When it was time to unwind, I took full advantage of the spa's extensive facilities (note: access without a treatment costs £37 per person). There's a wide massage menu available for an extra cost, along with fantastic reflexology sessions. I can't recommend the ice bath enough — it's included in the all-inclusive package, and honestly, starting your day with a freezing cold plunge is oddly invigorating. Wellness here isn't just about exercise. I also got hands-on with local culture by painting a traditional Dominican espresso maker, the perfect keepsake from the trip. There were also candle-making classes with a local artisan, which added a lovely creative touch to the experience. Best of all, these classes are included in the price of your stay, so I'd 100% recommend getting stuck in! Booking's a breeze: you get a QR code on arrival to browse and sign up for everything from fitness classes to artsy workshops. Food is, without question, one of my favourite parts of any holiday — so I was thrilled that Zel Punta Cana offers six distinct dining venues, all included in the all-inclusive price. Breakfast was always at Parda, a buffet dream with fresh tropical fruits (I'm still thinking about that pineapple), made-to-order omelettes, and vibrant green juices. For lunch, we alternated between the Mediterranean buffet at Parda, perfect for creating your own salad, and Tacorini, a poolside spot with exceptional tacos and guacamole. My favourite, however, was Neguri, the beach bar. With its laid-back Ibiza-style atmosphere, rattan furniture, and ocean views, it's the ideal place to relax — especially during their late-night DJ sessions. Dinner was equally impressive. Volcán stood out for its smoky grilled meats, while Nokyo offered an entertaining teppanyaki experience with chefs preparing meals tableside. If you prefer something quieter, the à la carte menu is a great option. And when the night calls for it, Voltaje, the lively lobby bar, is the perfect spot for cocktails and dancing. Room rates start from £299 per night, all-inclusive. As mentioned earlier, some activities and alcohol have an additional add-on fee. Zel Punta Cana might feel like a splurge, but the all-inclusive setup means there's a lot rolled into the price. All meals across six restaurants, unlimited drinks (including daily restocked mini bar), and access to a wide range of fitness classes — from paddleboard yoga to AeroYoga — are all included. Even things like open-air cinema nights and creative workshops come at no extra cost. Given the quality of the food, the variety of activities, and the freedom to do as much or as little as you like, it offers great value. The only drawback? Spa access isn't included unless you're booked in for a treatment — a small detail, but worth noting in a place that leans into wellness. Zel Punta Cana genuinely shifted my perspective on what a holiday can be. I'm someone who enjoys a cheeky cocktail or two but also can't skip my daily workout — and this place struck the perfect balance between the two without ever feeling like a strict fitness retreat. What impressed me most was the flexibility it offers. Whether you choose to begin your day with a refreshing run or a yoga session, then spend the afternoon relaxing poolside with a margarita, everything unfolds on your terms. There's no rigid itinerary or intense 'wellness bootcamp' pressure, making it an ideal destination for both a girls' getaway or a couples' retreat where everyone can pursue their own rhythm. Six days honestly wasn't enough time to soak it all in. I left feeling recharged and eager to return, already thinking about when I can go back. Prices for a 7-night stay at Zel Punta Cana start from £299 per night on an all-inclusive basis (not including flights and airport transfers)
Irish Examiner
13-06-2025
- General
- Irish Examiner
Gen Z Student: Smartphones have replaced cameras, alarms, menus... and real-life conversation
I've been branded as someone who hates my elders at times. This was never my intention, but here we are. I'm the 'ageist young one in the Irish Examiner', or so I've been told. But today I'd like to offer my defence. It was never about a disdain for anyone over the age of 40. It was more a general rejection of things going on around me: nightclubs being commandeered by men in suits or receiving overly punctuated text messages. What I haven't pointed out yet, is that I am easily irritated in general, as I'm sure any mildly astute reader could have figured out. However, when I recently walked into one of these 'new wave' restaurants with a no physical menu 'concept', I was reminded of the fact that I relate to my elders on many levels. The waiter told me that I just needed to scan some QR code to get the menu up on my phone. And even though I am what they call a digital native, I found myself yearning for the good old days. The ones before restaurants had concepts and I needed to use my phone to order some pasta, despite a waiter walking around who seemed perfectly capable of handing out a few menus. I'm probably being dramatic. But I understand totally what people mean when they say technology has a tendency to make things worse. Especially things that seemed to be working well in the first place. I mean, was there ever an issue with a physical menu? Will we all need smartphones to go out to eat now? The QR code menu also adds to the problem of people sitting together and scrolling on their phones in restaurants. While you're looking at the menu on your phone, you'll probably have a quick gawk at Instagram to make sure nothing has changed. Then half an hour has passed, your food arrives at your table, and you've basically gotten through the whole thing without needing to interact with an actual human. It's almost impressive how easy it is to get through life with such minimal human contact. Following this very antisocial lunch, of course, comes the bill. No problem there. Until they tell you that they don't accept cash in this establishment. It's Apple Pay or the highway, basically. In some ways, I enjoy going cashless. It gives me this false sense that I haven't actually spent money. Because all I did was wave my phone close to a card reader. But it can feel like an impossible task to spend cash when you eventually acquire it. It's seldom I can buy a coffee with the change hanging around in the bottom of my bag. Jane Cowan — irritated when people have more online presence than real-life presence Then you're getting public transport home from your menu-free, conversation-free, cash-free dining experience, and you're greeted with the sounds of TikTok scrolling the whole way home. Times like these, I can't help but think I was born in the wrong generation. Because I am on the side of the Boomers on this one. The sound of a teen making their way through their TikTok For You page filling up the bus or the train allows me understand how Karens come to be. All you want is a bit of peace. Instead, you're getting Charli XCX in double speed. There is plenty to be irritated by, if you look around. Particularly so, if you're like me and left any sense of patience in the womb. And like a Boomer, a lot of my frustrations relate to innovations of younger generations. I may not know much about life without TikTok on the bus and without 'concept' restaurants, but I've heard enough to think that it would suit me very nicely. Saying that, pre-technology Ireland was also lacking in contraception, matcha bars, nail salons that offer BIAB, and viral Dubai chocolate bars. And by God, I do enjoy those modern comforts. It's hard to know, really. It seems like more of a general intolerance. Maybe I'm trying to win over the over-40s right now. I relate to them on plenty of topics. Maybe not on home ownership or knowledge of tuning a radio. But on the merits of a restaurant as it should be? Now, that's where we unite. Read More Bernard O'Shea: 5 things I learned after watching the Adare Manor wedding go viral on TikTok
Straits Times
22-05-2025
- Business
- Straits Times
Viewpoint: How I got duped by luxury dupes
In 2019, the sale of counterfeit goods accounted for 2.5 per cent of world trade, worth a total of US$464 billion. PHOTO: REUTERS BRITAIN – My journey into the fun house of fakes began, as so many things do these days, on TikTok. Like many men, I had been content carrying a tote bag or backpack. Then my algorithm introduced me to Love Luxury, a designer consignment store in London offering previously owned Hermes bags. This wasn't about saving money, exactly. A Birkin with a retail price of around US$12,000 (S$15,500) – already an egregious amount of money – could be resold for twice or three times its original price. I found the extreme wealth both revolting and fascinating. I gobbled up clips of people playing the so-called Hermes Game – in which Birkin seekers tithe tens of thousands of dollars to Hermes boutiques in the hope that they might be offered the chance to buy one of their sought-after bags. My TikTok For You page soon became nothing but unboxings and reviews of other luxury brands, including Chanel, Dior, Bottega Veneta and Loewe. I began to lust after these designer goods, imagining which ones were right for me. Except that I am not rich, and neither are my parents or anybody I am likely to date. Besides, surely such sums would be better spent on the deposit for a house. But the overwhelming deluge of bag content made me desperate for the luxury my lacklustre bank balance would never permit. Then my algorithm served me up handbag dupes and replicas, imported from China. Buying them felt like an act of rebellion against the luxury brands that help enforce class division. But I couldn't stop. Buying dupe after dupe quickly became a destabilising obsession – on account of platforms that incentivise everything but stopping. When I came across a video about the viral Walmart Birkin – or Wirkin – I saw a way to participate in a world that had enthralled me. While we don't have Walmart in Britain, I found one on an online marketplace called OnBuy. I bought it for US$61. It took nearly a month to arrive from China. When it did, I was delighted. I doubted it was anything close to an authentic Birkin, but it was soft and smelled like real leather, not plastic. I took it out that night to meet friends, showing it off like a child with a new toy. They passed it around, surprised by how luxe it felt and giggling over the idea that I was now cosplaying as an uber-wealthy fashionista. Carrying this bag allowed me to escape into the fantasy of unachievable wealth. I felt like someone who no longer struggled to pay the rent. In 2019, the sale of counterfeit goods accounted for 2.5 per cent of world trade, worth a total of US$464 billion. On Reddit, there is a robust subculture of dupe hunters. The counterfeits they seek not only democratised access to designer bags, but were also symbols of resistance against the apparent greed of companies like Chanel and LVMH, which over the past six years have vastly increased prices and scored growing profits. Next, I bought a dupe of Bottega's intricately woven Andiamo bag, then a fake Coach bag, then a faux Acne Studios tote, another pretend Birkin (burgundy, size 35), a counterfeit Goyard Saint Louis in green and a dupe of a delightfully slouchy Songmont crossbody. If real, they would have cost me over US$37,000. Instead, I was out only around US$400. That may not seem like much to some (how fortunate), but for me, it was about half a month's rent. I took on debt. I told myself I could afford the bags by spreading the cost with Klarna, a buy-now-pay-later programme, despite each additional purchase and the subsequent partial payments pushing me further into overdraft. I have spent hours and hours scrolling Chinese e-commerce platforms such as DHgate and AliExpress, coveting fakes for sale. I've messaged sellers about the leather used on their replicas of Loewe's signature Puzzle bag (authentic: US$3,500; dupe: US$90). I've stayed up until 4am reading user reviews of The Row's more structured Margaux bag (authentic: US$5,500; dupe: just over US$100). Whenever I ordered something, I compulsively tracked my package from China to Britain. When it arrived, I'd tear open the many layers of packaging and smell the bag, caress the leather and examine the hardware. Though I had no reason to, I would leave the house with it, eager to take it on its debut outing. I've carried a Birkin to the supermarket, filling it with produce for dinner that evening, and worn my Andiamo, empty aside from some lip balm and a book, to the pub. Friends and family began to express their concern at the number of bags I was ordering. 'I think it's important that you stop,' my friend Kate texted me. I agreed, but each night, social media led me back to the bags. A few weeks later, only after my friend Jonathan mentioned that he found the hyper-consumerism I was engaged in distasteful, I really took pause. I looked back on the previous months and saw someone in the grips of an obsessional spiral. By chasing the dopamine hit that came with securing the next bag or gobbling up TikToks, I wasn't able to see my addictive and destructive behaviours or the way that debt would only continue to mount. I was skimping on my food shopping, taking on extra work and avoiding social situations where I knew I would have to spend money. I put off going to the dentist. I was out of control, like someone possessed, spending far beyond my means. I felt foolish. These bags had been tarnished by my new-found shame. I deleted TikTok, as well as the apps for the Chinese marketplaces, but by then, it was too late: The rest of my social media accounts were flooded with handbag content. On YouTube, my home page was a solid wall of influencers doing bag hauls from China. Almost every Instagram story I watched was followed by a luxury brand or retailer offering designer bags for sale. I was even pushed targeted ads while reading the news. I began to see this all for what it was: a symbiotic network of influencers, social media, e-commerce platforms and digital advertising – all designed to capitalise on my inability to regulate myself. How do you endure life online when that life consists of constantly being sold things? While the obvious answer is to log off, how feasible is that, really? These social media platforms are designed to extract not only our time but also, increasingly, our money – whether we can afford it or not. I can't entirely absolve myself, though. By buying these bags, I was chasing the illusion of status or happiness. While I self-soothed, I was still complicit in voracious consumerism. There was nothing radical or rebellious about it. I was still entranced by the lure of luxury brands, eager to be a part of their club. I had been duped by the dupes. NYTIMES Join ST's Telegram channel and get the latest breaking news delivered to you.
