DM me for orders
This week: Grifters, goths, Gothic fonts, Instagram hustles, drama on Mom Facebook and extremely online novels
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The other day I read (meh, okay — skimmed) an article about why women didn’t get caught up in Gamestop. The main thrust was that women have less money than men, generally speaking, and thus day-trade less in general. Which: Sure? That seems plausible? But it also seems too small. If you really want to talk about the gendered ways that un- or unemployed 20-to-30-somethings have responded to the uncertainty of the pandemic … then I feel like we should talk about the Instagram hot chocolate bomb shop.
You have undoubtedly encountered one of these young shops, or its close cousins, in your Instagram scrolling (see also: vendors of artisanal cutout cookies, cake pops, charcuterie boards, antique rugs, homegrown houseplants and vintage clothing). They’re the sorts of one-woman storefronts that, in another era, you might expect to find at a flea or farmer’s market, or some kind of craft show or maker fair. The cocoa bombs are definitely straight Etsy bait, down to their hand-lettered labels and outrageous price tags.
But the bomb-makers, in either a wildly clever or accidental subversion of the hustle economy I wrote about last summer, usually cut out their middlemen: They advertise the goods on Insta and collect on Cash App or Venmo. No taxes, no fees. “DM me for orders.” It’s the quintessential direct-to-consumer model.
And while this type of business obviously predates the pandemic — my *wildly* talented cousin has been selling cookies through IG since like, 2015 — there’s little doubt they boomed in a year that briefly saw the near-quintupling of the female unemployment rate. According to the Census Bureau, new business formations actually jumped almost 82% year-over-year in the third quarter of 2020. (And yes, I’m aware that men also do this — is it just me, or has every other straight dude recently started a woodworking account? — but when it comes to making and selling shit online, ladies have long been dominant.)
Personally, I’ve tallied more than 20 new Instagram and Facebook shops in the tertiary city where I live and where most trends trickle in like cool, unpunctual party guests we’re grateful just to have. If Buffalo has a dozen Insta moms selling hot chocolate bombs, your city has hundreds.
But are these shops a fun, creative side hustle born of pandemic free time … or a buffer against current/future income loss? Put another way, are the bomb-makers just screwing around with tiny chocolate-covered paintbrushes because they can, or is this a more substantive response to economic uncertainty? (Yeah, I know it’s a stretch, but you see how I got here from Gamestop.)
I don’t know the answer to that, honestly, because all the IG shops I follow are sunny and pastel and sweet and vague in the way all IG shops have to be. But clicking around to research this piece, I might’ve glimpsed a hint: “got laid off from my dream job(thx 2020) / so i bought a puppy + started making things to cope 😂” — is how one woman put it.
If you read anything this weekend
International man of mystery and recently dethroned rich dude Jeff Bezos stepped down as the CEO of Amazon this week, inspiring the sort of elegaic lookbacks most of us will not receive even on our deaths. I read a few of them, and while I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what this one was about when it was all over, I sincerely enjoyed both the writing and the scattered moments when I felt like I was on the verge of some profound anti-capitalist epiphany (… even if I never quite got there!).
Speaking of anti-capitalists, the Gamestop discourse has now come full circle — or three-quarters circle, more likely, there’s always another turn — and now the prevailing sentiment seems to be (a) that there was no David in this David v. Goliath battle and (b) that even if there were, the nihilist investors in question ultimately did nothing but further enrich the forces they allegedly sought to upset. Bummer!
In lighter news: You have probably already read this housing grifter horror story in The Cut; if you’ve somehow evaded the hype to this point, I doubt my endorsement will sway you. However I will say that this is the best (worst) kind of grifter story, in that everyone ends up vastly worse off and surprisingly little of it plays out online. Besides: Misery loves company … and we’re all miserable, right??
What else? This dispatch from Mom Facebook made me laugh out loud: “Rarely is something ever trending on Twitter because it’s neutrally beloved by everyone.” (Speaking of — who are these people just now discovering that Chrissy Teigen is richer than they are?) Meanwhile, this saga of the vengeful and possibly psychotic Canadian woman who ruined the online reputations of everyone who ever crossed her (… and their spouses, and their children, and their even more distant relations) is both a hell of a tale and also the best non-wonky explanation of Section 230’s flaws that you or I are likely to encounter.
Postscripts
Chegging. Tendies. “Deplatformed.” I think these people … are unwell. Meet the anti-vaxxers obsessed with a Tennessee nurse and the ones planning a militarized housing complex. Why Blackletter is the favored font for social justice memes. How Facebook fueled the coup in Myanmar. I have now read so much about these two forthcoming, “online” books that it’s unlikely I’ll ever read the actual novels. 🤷
In defense of doing nothing. QAnon: the greatest grift. Extremely obsessed with this city-guessing game, and will likely spend tonight playing it. The Bon Appétit story you didn’t hear yet. ‘Angelcore’ vs. ‘pastel goth’. Last but not least: VERY exciting game this weekend. Lol no, not football.
That’s it for this week! Until the next one. Warmest virtual regards.
— Caitlin