I’ve always had a fascination with what I like to call ‘life aesthetics’: magazines like Better Homes and Gardens, the latest Crate & Barrel catalog, and the annual arrival of Ikea’s design guide. I even find myself canceling plans just to dive into these visual delights. At different points in my life, even the local hardware store’s flyer or a catalogue filled with bohemian clothing and serene wall art has scratched that itch. And now there’s Pinterest—a veritable paradise for endless inspiration: from floral arrangements to DIY projects and gourmet recipes.
Over the years, my obsession with life aesthetics has imparted various lessons. An edition of Better Homes and Gardens recently enlightened me about the importance of having a signature cocktail on camping trips, ideally crafted with artisanal bourbon sourced from a quaint Oregon distillery. Here I was, mistakenly believing that a simple six-pack of beer would suffice; now I know better.
For most of my life, “well-dressed” merely meant that none of my undergarments were visible and my shoes matched. But now, thanks to these glossy pages, I’ve learned that my round-toe nude ballet flats actually shorten the appearance of my legs—time for an upgrade to those pointy-toed versions. Thank you, ironically named Better Homes and Gardens, for that critical insight.
Then there’s the issue of my freckles, which after 40, have now been rebranded as “age spots.” Thankfully, a detailed five-step regimen involving a chemistry lab’s worth of ingredients can help minimize them. I can only imagine how unrecognizable I might be without my so-called “age spots,” but the importance is underscored by a four-page spread dedicated to the topic.
Without my life aesthetics, I would remain blissfully unaware of how germ-ridden our electronic devices can be. After recovering from the image of a grad student quantifying “fecal matter” particles released into the air with each toilet flush, I realized the extent of our uncleanliness. I immediately resolved to devote two hours weekly to cleaning my gadgets instead of indulging in a novel or a leisurely walk on the beach.
There was a time—though I’m not proud of it—when I met friends for a picnic, bringing a haphazard mix of leftover items from my fridge: half a carton of cherry tomatoes, some tortilla chips, and a half-eaten tub of hummus. After browsing through my life aesthetics, I realized I needed to elevate my contributions—pressed vegan banh mi seemed more appropriate than my old beach towel.
The problem is that the imagery in these publications is so alluring and polished. I yearn for my life to mirror those staged scenes: perfectly arranged throw pillows, the ideal lip shade, or the latest food truck to try. In moments of weakness (usually after a glass or two of wine), it feels like cooking a complex meal (homemade ravioli with 13 ingredients, but only 30 minutes of prep!) or donning a chic outfit (a skirt that’s a steal at $200!) will somehow elevate my existence. This feeling is amplified when my son resists the idea of showering, even though I can smell him over the bean burritos, all while surrounded by a dining table cluttered with endless back-to-school paperwork and Cheerios that I can’t recall purchasing.
I long to transport myself into those idyllic photographs of diverse groups enjoying gourmet meals in sunlit meadows. But it’s a mirage, isn’t it? A fantasy for adults. Sure, I could achieve that picture-perfect life if I left my job, abandoned all hobbies, and evicted the three messy humans I live with. However, my work is rewarding, my hobbies bring me joy, and I have a strong attachment to those three individuals. Trying to emulate the perfection I see online is utterly exhausting, especially when I’m pulled in a million directions by the realities of my life.
Thus, I’m attempting to extricate myself from this relentless pursuit of idealism. Like any good 12-stepper or self-help advocate, I’m starting with acknowledging the problem: my life aesthetics keep me trapped on a never-ending hamster wheel of desire and acquisition, all in search of an unattainable perfection, and it doesn’t lead to happiness.
Now, I just need to figure out my next steps, which I’ll contemplate after I finish the fire-roasted poblano sauce for the enchiladas I found on a blog that looked perfect for my dinner guests tonight. Baby steps, folks. Baby steps.
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Summary:
In 2017, Dr. Sarah Henderson reflects on her obsession with ‘life aesthetics’—the glossy images of perfection found in magazines and catalogs that shape her expectations and desires. Acknowledging the stress this pursuit brings, she resolves to break free from the unrealistic ideals, recognizing that true happiness comes from embracing reality rather than chasing unattainable perfection.