On Sharing Responsibly

I have a green sweater. It’s a chunky knitted turtleneck and I love it. 

Last summer, on a particularly cool day, I wore it. I shared a story to my Instagram account and within a matter of minutes, received a deluge of messages asking about the sweater. I remember this vividly. It happened a few months after my first ‘viral’ reel – a reel that caused the North Phase community to grow significantly. The questions about my green sweater marked the first time I realised the powerful marketing influence certain social media content can have. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it overall, but in that moment, I thought about the specific responsibility that comes with sharing content online.

Now, before I dive into what I hope will be a thought-provoking reflection on consumption, social media, and ethics, I have to state that I love to shop. My love for shopping started when I was young. Some of my favourite childhood memories involve my grandma. I have three younger brothers, and as you might imagine, that meant a slightly chaotic household at times. Sometimes, to get a reprieve from my brothers, I’d sleep over at my grandma’s. I’d have a bubble bath with fancy soaps and bath oils and salts, watch cartoons (a special treat as we didn’t watch TV at home), and sleep in the most comfortable queen-sized bed with the softest sheets. My grandma would bring trays of what I can only describe as a childhood precursor to charcuterie boards. She’d leave a bell and tell me to ring it if I needed her. “Have no fear, Granny’s here.”, she’d say. And sometimes, my grandma would take me shopping. “Shop ‘til you drop” became our motto. I still remember some of the clothes I got on these special shopping trips. My grandma encouraged me to try new styles and was patient with the anxious, self-conscious girl I was. There was nothing quite like spending time with grandma – it was relaxing, decadent, and fun. But mostly, it was really special.

As I got older, I started shopping on my own. In high school, I spent the money I made working after school and on the weekends on new clothes. And in university, I’d make sure to buy a new dress before a night out. While shopping with my grandma was thoughtful and special, my own ‘need’ to have that new dress or those new jeans became more and more frantic. 

Before moving north, I reflected on my own shopping habits. I had clothes with tags still on them. I had more than I needed in the city, and certainly more than I’d need in the north. My friend helped me purge my closet. Much of it was donated, and some was consigned. I moved north with considerably less and a desire to shop with more intention, perhaps a little more like my special shopping trips with Grandma. 

My love for shopping hasn’t entirely died. Yes, I shop with more intention than I did in the past, but that frantic ‘need’ to have this, that, or the other still rears its head from time to time. It’s something I feel uncomfortable about and something I am working on. It has made me reflect on the role social media has, and, by extension, I have, in contributing to this frantic need to consume.

Social media is a wonderful tool. It has allowed me to connect with people I would otherwise never have “met.” It has presented opportunities I never expected, and it has allowed me to share my experiences in a way I would never have thought possible. But it’s also a confusing place. It has the power to influence, change, and mold people in both profoundly positive and profoundly negative ways. 

I often think about the day I wore that green sweater. I think about the influence I could? can? might? have and honestly it scares me. I think about how my content could contribute to someone to feel a frantic need to have something. 

When I first started writing this newsletter, I knew that the first portion of it would be a blog post that would appear on my website later in the week. And I knew that the second portion would be a list. It might include recipes, things I’d done that week, or perhaps a combination. I also knew that I’d likely include things, including material possessions, I’d recommend. I remember talking to a friend about the recommendations in the early days of the newsletter. I expressed that I felt morally conflicted about doing this. On the one hand, I would (and frankly could) only ever share about products I truly loved and stood behind. But on the other hand, I wondered in what way I contribute to a culture of consumption, and worse, to the frantic consumption I have participated in myself. 

There was no real resolution to our discussion, but in it, we spoke of consumption-related trends among social media ‘influencers’ (you likely know of my strong dislike for that term, but it is fitting here). We talked about the increasing frequency in which we see folks linking their entire outfit every day. We talked about home bloggers who share every detail of and the link for every piece of furniture, appliance, or decorative item in their home. And we talked about how this can contribute to feelings of frantic ‘need’. 

Ok, so here’s where I have to tell you that I have bought things that bloggers have linked in their stories. And it’s where I have to tell you that I don’t think it’s all bad. I appreciate that the act of sharing what you love with your online community can be meaningful, intentional, and positive. I think that receiving a genuine recommendation for a product that someone you trust on social media shares can help you find something you’ll love and use. I think that there is an undeniable importance, particularly in the present economy, in uplifting and sharing small businesses, and in particular, BIPOC owned businesses. And I even think there is space for content creators like me to work with brands, and to monetize in other ways. 

But, and this may be a controversial opinion, I think there is a fine line between doing this in a genuine and authentic way and doing it in a way that feeds into unhealthy consumption patterns. The thing is, I don’t know where that line lies. For now, and until I determine where the line lies, I hope the manner in which I share keeps that line at an arm’s length (or two!).

The other day I had a conversation with a friend about frantic patterns of consumeristic one-upmanship our sense that it seems to be snowballing. It is particularly jarring because of its stark juxtaposition to inflation, housing, mental health, addiction, conflict, lockdowns, environmental concerns, and political tension. It feels like we’re marching forward en masse with blinders on. And I fear I am part of it. I fear we all are. 

There is quite a bit of personal reflection that goes into sharing products with you, my dear North Phase community. It’s a responsibility I don’t take lightly. I think back to the special moments I spent shopping with my grandma. The clothes I got on those special shopping trips. Clothes that meant something. My hope is that the occasional product I share with you will mean something to you in the same way. I hope that your purchase is special. That it is intentional. And that no part of the relationship with it is frantic.