Welcome to this week’s edition of wordcloud, a newsletter by Nicole Fallert about the space between reality and ideas. If you enjoy this content, please consider sharing and subscribing.
September was a difficult month for the internet. We grappled with the reality of surveillance over Britney Spears’ private life, parents are shouting in school board meetings, Mila Kunis had to defend how she cleans her children, Billie Eilish lost 100k followers after that corset photo and true crime lovers made the murder of Gabby Petitio go viral. At least Michaela Coel won her due honor at the Emmy Awards.
But then, there was the Met Gala. I’ve been brewing a novel in my head about fashion’s attempt at its biggest night for some time now, but every time I go to write I just feel…bored. The theme for Anna Wintour’s cliquiest soirée this year was “In America: A Lexicon of Fashion.” I’m not sure what I was expecting to see, but it was certainly not Hailey Bieber’s Saint Laurent gown. Seeing this was like swallowing a pill with no water! Where was the “American ethos” in wearing a black strapless bridesmaid dress by a French designer?
Anyway, I digress…I’m leaving the reactions to My Brilliant Friend Emily Kappes, whom I co-hosted red carpet Met Gala coverage with from our dorm room during college. Play the audio at the top of this newsletter to hear a voicemail I received from Emily the day after the gala ^. Okay, now that you’ve listened, keep reading.
Emily’s critique is spot-on. The next day I couldn’t get over how reporters were so complimentary of the gala’s looks - meanwhile, I was yelling via Slack with co-workers about the lack of creativity and inclusion. This turned into my report on Cara Delevingne’s look which was hailed as “empowering,” “feminist” and “political” by some writers. This white, millionaire supermodel donned a Dior armored vest bearing the words “Peg the Patriarchy,” a trademarked phrase owned by Luna Matatas, a woman of color who earned no credit for the look. I…mean….
Moving on, let’s talk about kissing. If you were ever a young horny person, you probably had a DFMO — Dance Floor Make Out — at some point. I wasn’t very interested in having sex early in college, but I loved a good dancefloor smooch with someone’s son when the music was right.
This proclivity eventually changed as I entered a long-term relationship, but I’ve been reflecting on PDA — public displays of affection - now that I’m single in this pandemic world. Unless you’re kissing someone you know and trust does not have COVID-19, the DFMO is largely no more.
I recently went to a concert and could barely take my mask off to sip my beer before a security guard eyed me to cover my mouth and nose back up. I looked around at the crowd of strangers - if two people wanted to kiss, it could be at the risk of their own safety and those around them.
Enter the “mask kiss,” the act of kissing with masks on.
I’ve seen this kind of kiss more and more this year in public spaces where kissing usually occurs, like dance clubs, concerts, airports and the metro. We’ve been invited back into these kinds of spaces where we once had PDA and DFMOs - but we’ve not been permitted to be publicly sexy again. And the pandemic has taken a toll on our love lives, the BBC reported. Lockdown-induced anxiety and depression have stifled the nation’s libido and romantic partners separated at high rates as the toll of the pandemic wore out relationships.
So, you could say by now we’re all ready to kiss again. But we’re making up a new kind of kiss that aligns with the zeitgeist and doesn’t ignore the innate human need to touch.
And, having experienced a few mask kisses myself this year, I will say it can be quite cute and pleasant. Nothing beats the real thing, of course, but the novelty and strangeness of brushing up against someone’s mask is a totally new kind of intimacy I don’t mind. I still close my eyes, maybe touch the person’s elbow and come close to their face - what may be considered dangerously close in these pandemic times feels. There’s an element of trust that didn’t exist before the pandemic. I’m letting them into my safe bubble, they’re letting me in, too. It’s an exchange that means more after we’ve been forced to distance for so long.
While the DFMO was known for being slobbery (how I got mono freshman year), the mask kiss is sterile. But not for lack of lust. Something about kissing through masks leaves something to linger, the knowing that beneath the mask is skin you could touch if a person wants you to.
As we head into October, be safe, have your mask kisses, and let me know how it goes ;)
Please read a few of my favorite September clips
Self-Managed Abortions Could Be Legally Riskier After Texas’s Six-Week Law, Advocates Say
We Asked And Lots Of People Don’t Know They’re Pregnant By Six Weeks
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