Something Wicked This Way Comes

I used to think I was above the sway of targeted advertisements. "I see what you're doing, and you won't fool me," I'd think naively as I scrolled through my social media feeds. The feeds were becoming more and more littered with sponsored posts, but I felt impervious.

"Oh, what? Just because I'm in the 18-34 age bracket and female, you think I'll be moved by your incessant ads for engagement rings? Please."

"What's this now? Just because I scrolled a little too quickly past the engagement rings, you think I'm in the market for kitty litter and wine? Wow."

I felt confident they'd never catch me with these mainstream stereotypes and cutesy antics. Nay, I was "different." I was more the type to wear black clothes and sip black coffee. I was dark, cynical, moody, morbid, sardonic, nihilistic yet tongue-in-cheek, and—

What was that?!

They'd gotten me!

I couldn't help it, I loved everything about the sweatshirt. It was black. It talked about coffee, my favorite thing. It included a skull with inexplicably beefy arms. The font was pseudo-creepy but seemed self-aware enough. Just like me.

"No—I won't be taken in by a targeted ad!" I thought. I scrolled past it, but my heart stayed put.

A Wicked Haunting

I tried to live the next days and weeks as I had before the discovery. But wherever I went, it haunted me. The Wicked Clothing brand. The "death before decaf" phrase. The buff skull and his little jacuzzi cup.

Even though I hadn't initially even clicked on the ad, I'm sure some algorithm sensed that I had paused my scrolling the first time I laid eyes upon it. And that was enough to make it reappear, that skull nestled between photos of smiling friends, creepily emerging as the screen moved up.

Like quicksand, the more I struggled the worse it got. The more I scrolled to get away from it and find actual content, the more it appeared.

Every time I saw it was another time I had to consider it and try to say no to it. It was starting to wear me down. Sometimes you give into things not because you want to but because it's easier than resisting. If I said Yes to it, the decision would be over. But if I said No, the decision would continue to be asked of me every day.

New Self: Add to Cart

On a deeper level, the thing that kept niggling me was the opportunity it represented: the opportunity to become someone new, or at least, a better version of myself. It was an opportunity to showcase a certain style. A desired aesthetic. A chance to let people know I'm the kind of person who likes buff skull jacuzzi coffee.

Plus, all their models looked so cool. They were expressing a certain toughness, darkness, and playfulness that I was too timid to express. They wore black nail polish and red lipstick, while I was blank. They wore their hearts on their sleeves, or rather, on their shirts.

It wasn't the clothing I was sold on; it was the idea behind it. The promise. The opportunity for self-creation and self-expression. I'm sure all advertisers know this. If I'm honest with myself, I was probably just buying into that promise of getting a new self. Or at least, a new self-image.

I wasn't looking to be completely different; I was looking to be seen differently. In the land of social media, it's not enough to be a certain way. You have to show it visually, curate an image. At the time of this algorithmic haunting, the impetus to curate my image had seeped from social media into my physical life. The proof? I bought it.

Was It Worth It?

The sweatshirt has successfully kept my upper body warm.

But the moment of clicking "Add to Cart" was the closest I came to tasting the promise of a new and better self.

Some of my friends are more attuned to expressing themselves through fashion. I see them genuinely feel good when they find and wear clothes that resonate with them. And I admire that skill! But my attempt at finding that in this targeted ad fell flat. I tend to forget I'm even wearing it until someone points and laughs (but in a nice way).

I also overlooked the fact that I love decaf.

I mean, never in the morning. That's when it really would be "death before decaf." But I love coffee and the smell of it and taste of it and ritual of it and warmth of it so much that I don't want to stop just because it's later in the day. So, I switch to decaf to keep the party going.

This all makes perfect sense to me, but I like to hang out in coffeeshops and diners later in the day. So, multiple times I found myself in this situation: Having forgotten I'm wearing the death before decaf sweatshirt right up until the barista is taking my order, I'd come to a standstill: order decaf and look stupid, or miss out on the one thing I love, but retain my dignity?

The choice is obvious. I hope it entertained at least one barista.

The Aftermath

I recently decided to put the sweatshirt in my giveaway pile. It was a reminder of being targeted and buying into a hollow promise. It was a source of shame for having been suckered.

But it still wasn't over. Lurking in my pile of giveaway clothes, it lay resting but wouldn't die; I had reason to pick it up again to consider it as the subject for this article. Thus, it was resurrected.

In the end, it was just a sweatshirt. I wasn't a changed person, and I don't think anyone was fooled into thinking I was tougher, darker, or cooler.

I do believe that, whether I like it or not, people's perceptions of each other are at least initially inferred from visual cues. So it makes sense to want your visual cues to accurately represent yourself.

I don't know if I'm accurately represented by wearing a death before decaf sweatshirt while unironically ordering decaf and then feeling sheepish.

Then again . . .

Maybe, just maybe, this is the truest expression of myself after all.