Interference

“I had 35 analog years to develop my taste without interference. I carried quarters for payphones. I wrote directions on napkins. I discovered music through borrowed CDs and late-night television, not through playlists that knew what I wanted before I did. I fell in love with movies before they became content, with art before it became posts, with personalities before they became brands.” Kelly Oxford

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Do kids these days actually like what they like? Or are they brainwashed into their preferences by Netflix, Spotify, and the algorithm? Have these streaming services and social media replaced the magazine/tv ads of yesteryears? Except before, one spent an hour with a magazine, and then, closed it. We shut off the television. Now, everything is in your face, 24/7, through the iPhone.

Kelly Oxford makes reference to the “analog years”. If you are 30 or 40 (or older), you know what this means. It was the last era of originality. Now, “originality” is anything dealing with sexualization or sexual identity. It really doesn’t go past that. There is such a lack of originality that everything is a sequel or remake. We are stunted.

We wandered the closing Claire’s and looked at the adorable tiaras, little dinosaur earrings and Squishmallows (I had to look this word up). A little girl wandered from sparse stand to sparse stand with her purple mesh basket. Claire’s is closing due to their bankruptcy filing. It made me feel a pang of sadness. I feel that with it goes a certain death of quirkiness and innocence. It also made me wonder if that death had been happening for a while.

A flood of memories came rushing back. The fuzzy purple picture frames, the Eiffel Tower diary, the “cute by psycho” lime green wrist band with the bunny, the fake bun of hair that fell out of my friend’s head as we jumped on her bed one Sabbath afternoon throwing Beanie Babies up on a ceiling fan we were about to turn on, Jessica Simpson’s Dessert line, the bandanas we bought and wore at camp meeting, my friends going there to get their ears pierced as rite of passage, friendship keychains, the chokers everyone wanted, the lipglosses that smelled like Dr. Pepper— so. many. memories. So many birthday gifts. So many hours wandering the store with a friend at the mall.

I am not sure what the next generation will do without Claire’s. It’s the end of an era. This Claire’s will add to the tally of defunct stores with no one who can afford their rent to replace them.

I would argue that the moment Claire’s started catering to everything that has worked to destroy innocence in the next generation of children (certain TV show and movie licensed goods, cell phones, etc.), it started to die. Claire’s used to be about quirky things. Creative things. There was a wall of diaries and photo accessories. This was replaced by iPhone and iPad accessories. We went from pens to cellphone charms. Glitter on your face to piercings on your face.

In its last iteration, it was less about quirk, and more about recognizable and or neutral merch they hoped would sell with a dash of nostalgia (hair clips that look like you could get them at Walgreens, animal squishies you can also get at a pharmacy). You see, Claire’s ran so Kate Spade could walk. It used to be fur and glitter overload. There were youthful fragrances. It was magical.

I don’t think kids today understand how weird we were back then. Today’s idea of being subversive is dressing like your favorite Netflix character. Back in the day, “not fitting in might actually be the point,” Kelly Oxford argues about the past. It was taken very seriously. Maybe it came out of the fact that we had time to be bored. We made a statement when we walked in a room, not online. We sat around tables and ate ice cream and talked for hours. Now with technology, no one is bored. No one sits in silence. No one is actually connected.

How long have we been so programmed? Maybe Claire’s won’t even be missed. We’ll have Kitsch for collab hair accessories and Amazon for everything else.

A part of me hopes we see a return to the strangeness of the past. You know, wearing glitter at the tops of your cheeks when you’re twelve, not because your favorite singer did it but because you love the shimmer and blueberry smell of the gel. Stores offer us this experience. Online will never. You can’t smell it on Amazon.com. You can’t leave Amazon feeling like you are made of pure stardust. For the adults— will we keep shopping from Revolve and off influencer links or will we return to buying a sequined hot pink poncho because it makes us look like a disco ball, and we love it? I am rooting for the latter.

I hope we see a return of quirk and originality. We are dying without it. We need less ads and more trying. We will need less screens, less noise, and less images. We will need more boredom and more physical stores where we can smell and feel textures. We will need more connection and laughter. Without this, I fear our magic will vanish completely. We need less interference and more whimsy.