Consumable Dreams: On Ways We Escape

Now we fantasise about being able to afford the meals that we want, instead of daydreaming about 40 foot yachts and three-story mansions.

Aug 19, 2024

**Original Food Collage by Martine Mooijenkind**

So I’ve just finished the second chapter of a fantasy fiction book I’m writing (untitled) and begun to contemplate escapism as I rounded off sentences designed to build worlds and illustrated with my words the fine details of the characters I was creating. The way in which I could transmute the mundaneness of everyday life into a story with far more complexity and depth was a feeling unparalled, having been freed from the metaphysical and spiritual limitations of the world as we have come to understand it.

It is a fairly obvious truth, that escapism lies on the other side of yearning for better. The concept in itself implies a fleeing from something, which in many cases wears the face of our everyday lives. So then, in a society filled with a distinct hopelessness, we have to imagine that the reach for escapism is at an all-time high. But more than this, that escapism must evolve depending on what it is exactly we’re missing. Escapism, whilst appearing as a fanciful, colourful word, can be applied to the most basic of activities.

In the early to mid-2000s, what constituted the ‘middle class’ for most people in ‘developed’ countries painted an entirely different picture than the one envisioned now most of the time. With a house net worth of between $129,000 and $150,000 (what is now around $278,000) throughout this time (according to Pew Research), middle-class families lived relatively comfortably. This era is often revered for connoting a tangible luxury, a form of comfort that was not out of the realm of possibility for a double-income household, and still managed to afford them a few holidays a year, decently sized houses and considerable savings. It was the embodiment of the American Dream for some. Should you commit yourself to your 9-5 desk job, then you too could be rewarded with the earnings to provide for your families and still have some left to spare to satisfy cravings for luxury.

And in walks the reality TV show, which had become a lucrative business plan for those who wished to see their shows on TV screens all across the living rooms of Western citizens. For the relatively comfortable, escapism requires visions of grandiosity that stretch beyond the lives of ordinary people. Shows like the now de-throned ‘Keeping Up With the Kardashians’ and ‘America’s Next Top Model’ were smash hits, where people living relaxed (but albeit boring) lives could fantasize about accumulating wealth and status that were close enough to be enjoyed, but still not close enough, as to remain a fantasy and not drift too far into mundane reality.

These dreams have kept us hopeful and determined, (a truth I’m sure capitalists have continuously counted on). In the UK, we used to watch X-Factor and Britain’s Got Talent, and dream of our own claim to fame that would one day ensue (even if we had no plans of actually getting there). These forms of escapism served as fuel for our habitual routines. We would go out into the world and attend our jobs, or school routines, and then come home and experience something entirely richer from within the confines of our living rooms. I realise now that these dreams have not died but have merely been transformed (or shrunk themselves), to account for the ways in which our everyday lives grow smaller also.

The de-faming of the Kardashians has to do with a lot else other than their problematic behaviours and growing irrelevance which actually can be attributed to the reason why they’re irrelevant now at all. This one isn’t a secret revelation, or something even slightly novel, but merely points to the fact we all know – that rich people aren’t appealing anymore. It no longer serves as mere escapism to envision lives we’ll likely never live, because the majority of people are slipping below the middle class, and this dream seems too big all of a sudden. Instead, exhibitions of gluttonous wealth (whilst remaining the same), are being presented to a different audience, and we have changed. Now, it feels as though wealthier people and celebrities laugh in our faces as they see the poor living paycheck to paycheck. They struggle to maintain their relatability as they show off their designer wish lists to the student whose dream wishlist reads:

- Eggs

- Salmon

- Broccoli

- Bread

- Milk

- Ice cream

- Toilet paper

- Potatoes

- Cheese

- Avocadoes

And in walks the Mukbang.

Whilst these have existed for a long time for Koreans in the 2010s, they really saw virality around 2016 and saw even more success during the pandemic. New stars from the west on the scene wore names like ‘Nikocado Avocado’, selling a different kind of dream. In this fantasy, you would be able to eat whatever you wanted. Beyond the life of plain and grey foods existed a world of colour and variety, where you could imagine the joy reaped from eating almost anything you could think of inputting into your search engine. The initial collective excitement began in a relatively healthy way, where viewers might get to hear story times throughout these Mukbang’s depicting regularly sized portions.

But extremes often have a way of bringing about the creation of other extremes, bringing us to this place we’re in now. Those with barely enough food to fill their cupboards can go online to witness overconsumption in all it’s glory. Even that which presents as unhealthy still manages to maintain the gazes of so many, where only overconsumption online can help to fill empty stomachs in real life.

This is a reality that niche communities online have been aware of even before the popularity of these videos became mainstream. The ED community on Tumblr used to post Pro-Ana Top Tips! About ways to stay thin even as you were on the verge of a crippling hunger. Watching other people eat might offset some of the hunger you felt, was the sentiment echoed throughout various forums, and so this practice is old news to them. The extent of the hunger felt by pro-anorexics compared with the average person today might differ for the most part, in the way that a good amount of people engaging with this content are still able to eat in their day-to-day lives. But given that there are so many who can’t, videos like these are able to thrive off of deprivation and a population that relates more closely to hunger than satisfaction.

Even those that criticise invertedly fall into the same trappings of escapism. In protesting your superiority to those engaging in activities you’ve deemed ‘grotesque’, you fantasise about a reality where you have the money to buy all of that food and choose not to because it’s something you simply ‘would never do’. This bears in a similar way to those who might have critiqued the lives of stars back then, not for their lack of ethics and skewed moral code, but for their ‘trashiness’ and ‘lack of class’, all the while knowing that you don’t even have the choice to spend millions you don’t have differently.

There is also a discussion to be had surrounding health here. Many of those coming online to protest against the ‘gluttony’ are doing so under the guise of promoting health. But in truth, there is no true care to be held for those we’ve only seen exist on our screens, and so again would ask that you question the place that this content is really coming from.

But past my analysis of how escapism routinely manifests in different ways within our society, I wonder what the next consumable dream will be.

Perhaps one day, as people whose lives are imminently threatened by climate change and polluted air spaces, we’ll log on to find influencers promoting ‘clean air in a can!’, in a similar way to DR. Seuss’s ‘The Lorax’, and envious of those whose houses have built in air filters designed to keep the outside out, and dream that someday we’ll be able to afford what use to come at no cost.

But this is only my imagination of course,

Whose to know how we’ll escape.

Asisa