Once upon a time, we would just live our lives. Now, we create mood boards. Whether it's a study setup to fit the vibe of “clean girl” or a holiday photo dump altered to appear as if it were an indie film, we have adopted an air of curation.

Pinterest, Instagram, TikTok—our everyday lives have become an exhibition of moments that are communicated nicely into “cores.” Cottagecore. Dark academia. Coastal granddaughter. No longer do we ask what we like, but rather, what aesthetic do we fit.

Honestly, I'm guilty of this too. I have caught myself staring at Pinterest for hours, not for ideas, but ideas of myself that I could imagine wanting to become. One week, I am consumed by some kind of 90’s film-world nostalgia. The next week, I want to live in a world filled with stacked books and clutter from academia and fountain pens.

I think my saved boards look less like hobbies and more like parallel universes of my character. Sometimes, I even will justify to myself that I’m a “morning person” who jumps out of bed extra early to get things done—even though I despise the morning and hit snooze at least five times to mentally prepare myself. I feel like I have too short a life to pick one style or aesthetic over others, when I want to live all of them.

Image Credit: Vanessa Serpas from Unsplash

When Aesthetic Becomes Identity

It is common to think this obsession with visuals is innocent, even empowering. Aesthetics inherently help us define ourselves, right? But the truth is far more nuanced. When our self-concept is consistently and consciously mediated through online trends, we can lose our connection to authenticity.

Pinterest is not merely showing us what is beautiful; it is subtly teaching us the possibilities of a new reality of what should be beautiful. The senseless scroll of beige interiors, “that girl” morning routines, and the perfect desk set-up can move preference into prescription. Soon, our individuality becomes a remix of collective taste, and inspirational images become imitations.

It seems, by now, we have it down to a science when it comes to aesthetic identity. We use mood boards to curate ways that we are going to present ourselves in the world–what our future apartments will look like, what we'll be wearing on our way to a meeting, what long-term hobbies we'll be participating in, etc.

However, with aesthetic identity comes pressure. It becomes so that you cannot enjoy journaling. You have to make sure your journaling looks like journaling.

You can't enjoy your coffee. You can only enjoy your coffee if it is in a glass mug and you are sitting at a window, contemplating the world and looking at the sunlight. What if that is not your life? Now you feel like "Am I doing it right?" I find myself in restaurants surrounded by people snapping pictures of their food when they are hungry, delaying their meal just to have a nice food photo.

via Tenor

Take the Quiz: What Color Palette Is Your Soul Made Of?

Discover your true colors with this quiz!

Pinterest Brain: The Contemporary Way of Thinking

As I have come to call it, Pinterest Brain is more than just the app; it’s the state of mind. It’s the mental filter we place on everything we do: “Would this look good on Pinterest?” It’s the internal camera that is always on, even when no one is looking. It is often creative and limiting, inspiring, and exhausting. It allows us to see life not just for what life is, but how it is presented to appear.

But I understand the desire for it all. The world feels uncertain and messy, and a curated aesthetic can feel as though we have some control. It’s comforting to think that if everything in our physical spaces matches, then everything in our lives matches too!

Pinterest Brain, in a strange way, enables us to exist in chaos—it allows us to think about the types of people we would like to be more put-together, more confident, more loved. I guess that’s why I have a hard time letting it go entirely. Because it might not be real, but it allows me to reach higher.

Image Credit: Uby Yanes from Unsplash

Reimagining Beauty and Presence

However, there is a cost. When everything is centered around the aesthetic, creativity naturally diminishes. Rather than making things by feeling, we make them by referencing.

We rehash the things we know work instead of expressing ourselves. Art is algorithmic. Life is a highlight reel. The most disconcerting part is how normalized this all feels, like we have come to terms with the idea that our value, and even our happiness, should look a certain way.

Yet here lies the paradox: Pinterest Brain also tells us something deeply human, our pull toward making sense of beauty and belonging. The culture of the digital aesthetic has provided us with a shared visual vocabulary, a way of expressing ourselves without words. This has democratized creativity so that everyone has access to curate and dream. The struggle now is learning to differentiate between curation and creation, performance and presence.

Image Credit: Aziz Acharki from Unsplash

Maybe the true goal isn't to abandon the aesthetic culture but rather to reshape it. To exist as if our lives are worthy of pinning, not because they're perfect, but because they're real. To let our feeds populate our lives—not the other way around.

I still love Pinterest boards, and maybe always will. Regardless, I am just trying to remind myself that the golden moments will never be documented within a frame. The most beautiful things are not filtered, matched, or mood boarded. They are imperfect, they are lived; fully lived.