Anyone who has downloaded TikTok over the past year has probably seen it. An aesthetic montage: picnics, iced coffees and the ethereal golden hour. And, of course, the famous line: you have to start romanticising your life. Amidst worldwide lockdowns, such an idea seemed to be rejuvenating; it encouraged its audience to see the beauty in everyday life. Yet, in reality, most of these short clips seem only concerned with appearing aesthetically pleasing rather than being actively encouraging to their creators and audiences. The trend engages with, and in fact confronts, many of the problems faced by a generation who chooses to display life through the rose-tinted lens of social media. 

To romanticise, by definition, is to describe something “in an idealised or unrealistic fashion” in order to “make it more appealing than it really is”.[1] This is where the disconnection between its use and its motive arises. Romanticisation relates to perception and presentation. In the case of TikTok, by relying on both the creator and the audience, the effect is often misinterpreted. In a generation raised on aesthetics, social media has become the ideal platform for romanticising – for proving ourselves and convincing others that we are having a good time rather than actually enjoying the moment. Addictive in nature, such platforms use popular posting algorithms that leave us yearning for likes. Each double tap becomes a form of validation. 

In a way, this is inevitable. Social media is not only used for posting interesting pictures or sharing funny videos – it is a persona and often a career. Life is now presented through constant images and updates from people we like, don’t like, know, and don’t know. Standards for beauty, relationships, and success are no longer seen in glossy magazines but are based off influencers’ constant bombardments: flashy highlight reels, stories embellished with music and GIFS, and flawlessly posed photos. These standards continue to climb to impossible heights. 

There remains an underlying problem here. The significant gap between reality and social media is crystal clear to many, yet social media users – particularly the younger generation –are struggling to see this disconnection. Apps like TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook have crept closer and closer to becoming a better version of reality and in that, a tool for comparison of attractiveness, social life, and productivity. This is where romanticisation becomes dangerous. While romanticising other peoples’ lives can lead you to try and improve (or better present) your own life, romanticising your own life can lead you to feel disillusioned with, and even afraid of, the mundane. I believe the most obvious space we can see this in is a lot of romantic relationships, even before the existence of social media. 

My generation is in love with the idea of love. Despite this, it is increasingly difficult for people to find. In our more sexually liberated society, serial monogamy seems to be at its peak, with people falling in and out of love as fast as it takes to like a photo, open a Snap, or share a post. Social media undoubtedly contributes to this issue. Seeing loved-up couples on Instagram can instantly spark jealousy for the assumption that these people are happy and never share a cross word. However, I think for many people (and in my own young teen experience), jumping into a relationship with the hope of replicating this happiness can cause countless problems and, ultimately, disappointment. We have not only romanticised the partner role through social media, but we have translated it into real life. Even after finding a partner who seems to tick every box, their normality can shatter a perfect illusion. This, in turn, can result in resentment or even concern about how to perfectly present them to the world. 

Aside from relationships, this idea relates to experiences. The consistent need for aesthetic photographs has become less about memories; rather, snapshots of the “perfect” life are uploaded to Instagram or Snapchat. We crave crazy nights out, with strobe-lit clubs and rainbow shots; we spend hours applying Insta-worthy makeup. Yet, more often than not, the next morning just doesn’t feel worth it – perhaps from embarrassment, worry, or simply a pounding headache. But, when looking back on a post from that night in six months’ time, we remember it as being the peak of social activity and fun. Young people everywhere are perfectly presenting their lazy, boozy brunches with avocado toast and cocktails topped with flower petals to avoid, hide, or simply deny the fact that they’re crumbling under social expectations, loneliness, or academic stress.

Be that as it may, the biggest threat amongst these idealisations is the romanticisation of self through social media. Take, for example, photo editing; the need to present yourself as a little bit thinner, your eyes a little brighter, and your skin a little bit smoother. Editing has shifted from the Retrica app’s loud, inverted filters to the subtle art of the infamous Facetune. The more discrete these differences between presentation and reality become, the higher our standards tend to skyrocket, as people begin to believe that these ideals are very real and achievable. To add to this, these apps have made photoshopping a skill available to any smartphone user; you don’t need the latest software. All it takes is a simple download and you can edit until your heart’s content. When I took a poll on Instagram asking my followers, most of whom I know, if they think people (specifically influencers) should announce any self-editing to their followers, over 75% of people voted for yes. Evidently, we need more transparency in social media from everyone, but particularly from social media influencers. Here’s why.

When we can see people we know from social media in real life we can usually perceive the gap between reality and presentation, even if they are someone who edits their images. But influencers are the new celebrities and remain inaccessible, only presenting what they want their followers to see. High scale editing that remains obvious to its audience is not a major problem. It is the obscuring of little imperfections that is helping to blur the gap between what is real and what is fake: the slight smoothing of pores and textured skin, or the small reshaping of the body to make stomachs flatter and hips rounder. Young people, especially women, are looking up to these figures to see what they should look like and what they believe they need to strive for. The danger is that the people they are trying to look like are not even meeting the standards that they are setting. 

Furthermore, this standard isn’t exclusively affecting young women. Not only are young men seeing Instagram models and believing this is how women should look, but they too face aggressively unrealistic standards propagated by social media. Male influencers tend to have chiselled faces and bodies with an unhealthily low body fat percentage, purely achieved through restrictive eating and unbearably intense exercise routines. Such influencers are also no stranger to editing tools, consciously tensed stances, or flattering filters. Because of how subtle the editing or purposeful posing is in these images, people continue to believe that these beauty standards are realistic and attainable. 

Multiple people who answered my previously mentioned poll noted that including a hashtag stating ‘Facetuned’ is of no true inconvenience to an influencer outside of shattering their online fantasy – something I deem to be a necessity. Several young women pointed out that in editing their own images they actually found things wrong with their body that they had never noticed before. Editing images to live up to others’ expectations or condemning certain images for not achieving impossible standards correlates to romanticising an unrealistic body type or yearning for your own social media persona’s edited body. We can see this not only in the increased use of editing apps, but also in the amount of young people resorting to plastic surgery or body enhancements to achieve their desired image. Lip-fillers, facial restructuring, and Botox, to name a few, are becoming the new reality for many. Such changes are often born from dangerous romanticisation. Either way, confronting the idea of sharing images can leave an underlying, lingering disappointment when encountering our real and imperfect bodies.

Arguably this is beginning to change, with a rise in body positive influencers and some brutally honest online presences. But realistically, most of us have an online persona and a certain editing app on our phone that we gravitate towards to make the sky bluer and the grass greener. It is difficult to see what is real and what is not. So, it is crucially important, especially in isolating times like lockdown when we turn to the comfort of our social media pages, to remember that everyone is flawed beneath their veil of perfection. 

At the end of the day, romanticising everything in our lives for the benefit of other people only leaves us disappointed with a life that is still very much romantic, but also just happens to be very much human. We don’t have to edit or change everything to make it beautiful, we just have to recognise that it already is.

[1] Simpson, J & Weiner, E (eds) 1989, Oxford English Dictionary, Clarendon Press, Oxford.