What is the cost of meta-cringe?

Fuck the Spurstowe Arms... I'll see you there at 7

In his debut novel, Evenings and Weekends, the Irish-born, London-based author Oisín McKenna illustrates the typical weekend of a Londoner in their late 20s to early 30s. In it, McKenna deftly entangles the lives of five main characters, unraveling their insecurities, repressed desires, palpable libidos, and childhood friendships that stretch to fit their adult identities. The novel is teeming with themes essential to today's literary scene, capturing the look and feel of sex and dating in the 21st century, and offering an honest portrayal of queer relationships, apprehensions towards motherhood, and anxieties around maturation. And yet, despite these successes, while attending a birthday party one night, my fellow party-goers ridiculed McKenna’s work for its ‘place dropping’ style—specifically, the author's consistent use of well-known East London social hubs, from Dalston SuperStore to London Fields park. For them, it felt too obvious, and too cringey, to authentically encapsulate the lives of  young-adults in London. Despite this growing demand for nuanced interpretations of the social world, their comments took me by surprise. We’ve always understood that humans fear the unknown, but when did we start to reject the familiar?

This party interaction is far from a one off. Here in Central London the carousel of ‘all-too-familiar’ culprits under fire range from sceney pubs and Adidas Sambas to something as prosaic and defenseless as a Lost Mary. Both online and in-person, London’s post-adolescents become subjected to and active participants in meta-cringe. That is, the communal confirmation that something is ‘blown-out,’ or ‘bait.’ Then, despite looking down on such social practices, aesthetic and locations, going on to participate in it anyway for the mere reason that it is the lifestyle within their proximity. It's the act of talking to a friend about how sceney, cold and cunty The Spurstowe Arms is, whilst looking and living a life akin to every other person in it.

A cycle emerges, whereby so much which comprises ‘youth culture’ or cultural happenings come under fire and then is returned to again. Looking at social media, pages such as @socks_house_meeting and @real_housewives_of_clapton have quickly garnered recognition for their ability to stay on the pulse of hyper-local neighborhood trends and then memeify them. These accounts are witty, quick to act, and incredibly precise, which is why they’re notoriously well-received. They satiate a subtle, dual desire for recognition—both of ourselves and of others. The downside is that they often do so with a lingering negative connotation, transitioning the archetypes we see walking London streets onto the screen in a mocking, albeit playful, tone. What results is a fractured experience, where the viewer who enjoys these pubs, clothes, food spots and lifestyle, in the spirit of social proofing, feels compelled to mock them as well - and in doing so, mock themselves.

Social media has no doubt further solidified these archetypes that fit neatly on meme pages, highlighting recent shoe styles drops and small plate menus, often selling a lifestyle that appeals to us, but always on mass scale. This is all unfolding at the height of the Attention Economy, a time denoted by an overwhelming influx of information—ranging from fashion trends, restaurant openings, ‘It’ girl moments, dazzling world tours and the never ending stream of freshly born micro-influencers—which results in a scarcity of attention. For people, the antidote to being forgotten amidst this cramped landscape is to work harder, angling to stand out and cut through the noise in pursuit of personal recognition. Individuals are having stronger knee jerk reactions to prove themselves as just that - a sole entity, something different, someone unique. In this context, meta-cringe presents a new way to show oneself as hyper-aware and culturally attuned, positioning themselves above the social sphere in a god-like manner. Not through a worldly embrace, but through cultural denunciation. 

But materiality, built environments and physical practices are all fundamental to streamlining our ability to relate to one another, synchronize schedules, align values, and affirm belief systems. By extension so many of the things we deem to be ‘out’ consist of the same things that work as social strings, threading together the fabric of culture that ultimately give rise to a sense of identity or in-groupness. In this case, not to an elite or exclusive social group, but instead, a sense of belonging to a specific time and place: the here and now in London during the year 2024. And if we consistently mock, poke and prod at this, we starve ourselves of the childlike joy of simply enjoying culture, and by extension communality.

The result is a wave of disoriented people, struggling to find their place, connect, and relate—longing for a past where pop culture and youth culture weren't so systematically dissected and discarded in the pursuit of staking a contrarian opinion. Looking back, your mother might now dislike the harsh, albeit mainstream, silhouette of the shoulder-padded suit. But at the time, it connected her to a specific socio-cultural moment, tethering her to fellow breathing bodies that comprise an unforgettable era. To have called it cringe and shrug it off in the name of individualism, may have made the 80s a very lonely, ugly time.

In the end, the irony of meta-cringe lies in our generation's consistent demand for community and social integration during a period dominated by loneliness. Yet we continue to dismiss any signs, symbols, or spaces that could potentially foster this sense of connection as overdone and passé. The tension between wanting to be an individual and wanting to belong doesn't just rage on - it swells and bloats, hurting all of our heads. This raises the question: what feelings of alienation do we create when we reject our current cultural landscape, constantly refracting it through a lens of social satire and self-ridicule? 

The point is not to direct further disdain outward at the surrounding social world, but to take a moment for self-reflection and recognize the self-cannibalization of culture that occurs when we consistently step on the neck of both the animate and inanimate elements that surround us. Tearing down infrastructures of connection and failing to offer up a better alternative. Because if we continue down this path, the conversation may sound similar to a prayer: 'it's cringe, it's cringe, it's cringe,' but we won't feel any closer to social salvation. In fact, we may end up feeling very alone.