I’ve obviously spent a lot of time thinking about recommendation culture.
This past week, I saw a wave of chatter about the topic, all kicking off with
:We have indeed reached peak recommendation culture. People incessantly seek and share recommendations for products and experiences online. It doesn’t even shock me now to see someone’s cute family greeting card posted online with comments underneath like "need your shirt and boots LINK PLZ" surrounded by heart emojis and compliments. People are starting to feel like sharing every single detail of their lives might be overkill, and they're championing the idea of "gatekeeping". So I want to explore: When does recommendation or “best of” culture go too far? And what do we gain or lose with gatekeeping?
When Recommendation Culture Becomes Overkill
I've always been interested in "best of" lists and finding out what people are excited about, whether it's their go-to snacks, latest purchases, or the music they're blasting. Recently, while cleaning out an old hard drive, I stumbled upon old articles I'd saved, one was all about Wes Anderson's favorite picks and Sofia Coppola's must-listen albums. I don’t think it’s new that as humans we’re always chasing after the best stuff, especially if someone we admire suggests it.
It makes complete sense to me why nowadays, it feels like we're constantly bombarded with these "best of" and recommendation lists whether it’s clothes, restaurants, travel itineraries and ads telling us what we absolutely need to buy. There is an insane amount of stuff and there are a ton of companies fighting to grab your money. We live in a time where searching for “drinking glass with Lid” can send you into an insane tailspin, resulting in searching reviews for two hours before you realize these are the exact same cup coming from the exact same factory and the only difference is you’re buying it from a company either called BROMAX or KOOMBLA.
Absolutely, we should be focused on dodging this chaos to spend time on what actually matters. But in the quest to steer clear of sifting through heaps of rubbish, have we unintentionally swapped that for fixating on numerous meticulously curated lists of more trivialities? Lately, I've been contemplating how the constant exposure of "best of" and recommendations lists, whether sponsored or not, starts to influence our behavior. Here’s a few ways it starts to feel like overkill:
Overexposure to “Best Of” and “Recommendations” Perpetuates The Idea That Every Purchase Could Be Perfect.
The other morning, I ran out to buy coffee for some guests staying at my house. At the local store down the street, the only choices were Starbucks Medium Roast or Breakfast Blend. Instinctively, I whipped out my phone and googled "starbucks medium roast vs breakfast blend" before I had a moment of self-realization. What am I doing? They are both the same price. I don’t need it to be perfect. But I’m so used to a plethora of choices that making a straightforward decision without a quick online consult feels almost reckless in our world brimming with possibilities. Because after all, the information exists somewhere, doesn’t it? The more I’m exposed to how amazing and perfect purchases can be (and we are all exposed a lot) the more I start to think that every purchase I make has the potential to be flawless, if I could just dig up the perfect info, that I just know exists somewhere out there. I highly doubt my great grandparents were enjoying a cup of coffee but thinking “wait, is this actually the best one out there?” To even fathom that is actually absurd.
So, why am I doing mental somersaults over a task like buying a simple black shirt? The more I see content about buying and curating and finding the holy grail, am I turning into a ball of anxiety every time I shop, trapped in an echo chamber of endless options, each promising to be the answer but just leaving me with a headache? And at the heart of it, is it the belief that I can somehow escape the inevitable discomfort of life, if I am just armed with enough information and the “right” choices? Yes, life is thrilling but it's also boring and mediocre. There will be pedestrian days during your dream vacation. You will eat a shitty bagel once in a while. You’ll wear crappy socks sometimes. But I’m almost positive you won’t be thinking about it on your deathbed. Surely there are better places to pour my existential dread about the uncertainty of life into hunting for the perfect coffee bean?
“Best Of” And Recommendation Culture Has People Over Identifying With The Choices They Make and Humanizing Brands And Companies.
"Best of" lists and recommendation culture have us over-identifying with our purchases, as if every item we buy broadcasts our support for BIPOC, ethical businesses, flaunts our taste, minimizes our carbon footprint, or certifies us as decent humans. It's understandable to resonate with brands that align with our values—like vegans championing cruelty-free labels—since corporations heavily influence our culture and values. This dynamic lets us use our wallets for personal expression and advocacy. Yet, we might be giving too much credit to these companies. After all, their main game is profit, not necessarily aligning with our personal interests.
So, why do we endow brands with human traits, letting our consumer choices symbolize our identity and values so intimately? It seems we're simplifying our self-concept to what's in our shopping bags. I don’t think I should be overly concerned if a toilet paper brand is “the best” at telling my story. Maybe the real shift in my life is focusing on what truly matters instead of which products align with the illusion of the identities or the communities they connect me with.
Recommendation Culture Gives Some People The Illusion Of A “Community” But Might Just Isolate Us More.
Just like identifying with a product that feels more “me” or “my community” (man, brands really have slaughtered that word, huh?) visiting a highly recommended or "best” place can foster a sense of belonging, making us feel as though we're signaling we are part of a specific group. However, this perceived community isn't truly present at these "best" destinations. Instead, it's composed of individuals who frequently curate and share their experiences online, creating a culture of performative living.
In this culture, the worth of an experience is often gauged by how shareable it is and the amount of online approval it receives from others. It reminds me of when I went to Bali and I headed to the “best waterfall”. When I got there, I saw a bunch of people lined up just to take a picture. Nobody was really soaking in the experience because they were all about getting their solo 'main character' shot and then zipping off to their cars to hit up the next waterfall on their list. I hardly saw a person interested in just hanging out, checking out the waterfall up close, or just being in the moment.
Showing up to a trendy or recommended place seems more about proving you've seen it. You’ve been there. It shows that you belong, but to me it often reads as pretty lonely. It's like a community without the actual community—a parallel existence. Sometimes I’ll click on a restaurant and I see 8,000 tagged photos of the same damn branzino but no real people in any photos. What's the deal with this? It seems like a paradox—striving to look exclusive yet revealing a deep-seated longing to belong because you must go to a place that is socially approved.
This urge to seek social validation and craft an identity based on your purchases and places you've visited is intense. It’s a seemingly inescapable part of being human. But it feels distinctly American to think we can buy our way into self actualization. I tried this a lot when I was younger. I used to think copying what people like Sofia Coppola bought or just going where they went would make me more like them. I definitely think learning what an artist you admire has experienced or is inspired by can help you try and see their unique point of view.
But it’s usually by digging into art or experiences, not consumable products. It turns out that buying the same stuff doesn't really change who I am or get me closer to the traits I admire in them. Especially when it comes to creative people, the reality is: to be a writer, you must write; to be an artist, you must create. You can’t just act the part. I remember personally hating this wake-up call that being myself took more work than these easy immediate actions. So not to sound like I've been hitting the peace pipe too hard, but can we perhaps dial back on excessively defining ourselves and our personalities based on where we go and what we bought? Maybe focus more on how we think and we feel, how we behave and what we can contribute to this world?
Is Gatekeeping The Solution To Recommendation Culture?
There seems to be a conversation happening about the fact that not everyone should be entitled to everything. “Not everything is for everyone” might make sense when it comes to preserving unique and vulnerable landscapes or vibrant subcultures. But for t-shirts and restaurant recommendations? I’m not so sure. I understand if you've poured your heart into designing and hand stitching a shirt and you're proud of it, it might be understandable not to want someone to copy your design, right? But are we so boring now that we get so upset when others copy a Zara shirt, a Farrow and Ball paint color, an oat milk latte order? Again, are we identifying too hard with something we didn’t invent? Are we using our taste as a central tenet of our being?
Personally, I’m not a big gatekeeper. You can buy the same clothes I have. Will you style it the same way I will? Probably not (I’m genuinely curious how you would!) When you’re born in an economically depressed city and a family of immigrants, you don’t really want to “gatekeep” businesses around you that you love. I come from a culture where if you don’t tell people about businesses or people who are doing the good work, those places shut down. It always strikes me as odd when people want to monopolize restaurants. If it's really that exclusive to you, why not just buy the entire place, hold the staff hostage, and make them only cook for you?
What is there to gain by gatekeeping an establishment that needs to make money to stay open? Could it be the longing to own something that you aren’t genuinely connected to or an actual part of, leading you to believe that mere ownership/gatekeeping equals a meaningful connection? Take, for instance, this old Spanish restaurant in my hometown where my father worked back in the '70s. They only hire Spanish immigrants, and whenever I walk in with him, they greet us warmly. They still remember my Dad, and we always have a fantastic time because there’s a genuine connection to the place. Am I bothered that others love the place too? Heck no, because my connection to it is authentic—I'm not chasing some exclusive club; I'm already a part of it, and nothing can break that. Does it irk me if others frequent it and it gets busy? Absolutely not. I'm thrilled for the owners, who've busted their asses to build a life here in America and worked tirelessly for every penny earned. They deserve every ounce of love and success that comes their way.
So I’m genuinely curious to know: what do we gain from gatekeeping? It’s not a rhetorical question either, if you are an advocate for it, please share your thoughts with me.
And before you ask it, I will answer it: If I see so many issues with recommendation culture, then why the F have I created a newsletter focused on product recommendations? Well, for starters, because here at Total Rec, we embrace duality, baby. Sure, we love clothes, culture, and shopping, but we also recognize that life's essence goes beyond that. Plus, with the overwhelming number of recommendations on the internet often driven by pay-to-play schemes, I’ve felt there was a lack of spaces where people could discover and share genuinely worthwhile finds, free from commercial interests. Because, let's face it, we live in a society where purchasing and consuming to some degree is a necessity. We might as well strive to make that process as efficient and enjoyable as possible while we're at it.
With that said, here’s a couple little tips I use to keep my own overexposure to recommendation culture in check, maybe they will help you, too:
Set A Time Limit on Research And Recommendations.
The analysis paralysis is real. I try not to let the search for something like a bottle of vitamin D turn into an existential crisis. Obviously, I really enjoy researching things (why else would I be writing this?) but also I need to balance my time and not go nutso. This is pretty common sense but when I need to make a purchase I do a little bit of risk analysis and consider 1. How often I will use it and 2. What is the price point? Obviously if it’s something I’m going to be using every day of my life or one of the most expensive purchases of my life, like purchasing a house, your girl is definitely hitting up nearly every dork on and off the internet and getting their advice. But if it’s a simple trash can for my bathroom that costs about $19.99, I should buy the damn thing and spend time on my hobbies. Here’s a rough idea, obviously everyone’s numbers will be different and your mileage may vary. But the key is just don’t sweat the small stuff.
Travel and Eat With A Mix of Both Plans and Zero Plans.
Last year, I took a sabbatical from the company I founded and walked 600 miles around Spain. I’m super into planning and knowing what’s good, but I went all in with zero plans, zero hotel bookings and just the idea that I could walk all day and the knowledge that accommodations were inexpensive to book last minute. At first, it was fucking nerve-wracking and my brain HATED the uncertainty. I’d walk all day wondering if I'd end up in a place with loud snorers or bedbugs. But I got into a groove, and balanced it out by treating myself to a nice hotel every now and then based on good reviews. Turns out, I was barely in my room, mostly out walking or hanging out with people I met. The uncertainty of my days stirred up a ton of irritation and amusement, turning the friction of my life into a really great story. This was such a nice shift from the predictable, somewhat bland business trips I would take that often revolved around choosing dining spots based on their five-star ratings, followed by conversations at dinner about other top-rated restaurants.
On the other hand, telling you to completely freewheel in Tokyo would be bad advice. The city's vastness means that winging it can lead to poor last-minute accommodation choices and wasted time navigating from one spot to another. There, I mixed it up—some days were meticulously planned out, others I just picked a neighborhood and roamed around. So, when I travel, I think it really helps to consider the balance. I like to play with the polarities: meticulously planned vs. unplanned, friction vs. frictionless. To quote
from “Shred the itinerary. You have to do interesting things to have interesting thoughts. Stop being so fucking safe.” Why not just go into the small restaurant in Basque country with zero presence on Google? (I guarantee you it will still be delicious.) Can you walk around and find a new undiscovered gem or do you really need to go to that pizza place in Tokyo Aziz Ansari liked? (honestly it was really good, so that’s cool if you wanna do that too!). How much of your precious time do you want to spend looking down at Google maps navigating to the next hot spot destination, when you could be looking at the weird cars and trees you don’t get to see back home?Keep Notes.
Here’s another one that’s common sense but maybe not so common because we always feel like everything is at our fingertips. When I see a recommendation for something I want to buy, read, watch, I jot it down in a note on my phone. So, when I'm lounging around, unsure what to watch or read next, instead of aimlessly scrolling through Netflix or searching online, I just reference my list. I make sure to source my media/recommendations from consistent places I trust and write them down as I see them so I don’t have to scramble for them later. That way when it comes time to buy the thing I need, I already have a list compiled so I don’t have to fall into a insane rabbit hole!
What are your thoughts on “recommendation” and “best of” culture? Are you for gatekeeping? Tell me if you think it’s a good thing, I want to hear your opinion! And come on, you’d think I’d leave you hanging without giving you Sofia Coppola’s favorite albums?! I wouldn’t do you like that:
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Number one, I really really love this. I am a chronic over-thinker over-researcher who spent a lifetime (almost 49 years!!) convinced that “the right” boots or whatever will turn me from a self-perceived dumpy unstylish dork into the fabulous chic woman I see in my mind or on screens everywhere I look. It really took me most of my life to emotionally understand that an object will not in fact physically or emotionally transform me - that I will either see myself as the actually elegant, chic person I am or I won’t, and no trench coat or bag will solve that. Does this realization stop me from tumbling down endless rabbit holes? Not yet, but I’ll get there.
Number two, are you familiar with the concept of satisficing vs. maximizing? Because we are really a maximizing culture and I think technology has ramped this up like whoa. (I wrote an op-ed a little about this years ago for the NYT).
Number three, you’re great and I’m so glad I found your writing.
There’s a temporal element at work here too, no? It’s one thing to appear in a magazine once every five years, listing your favorite albums “of all time,” and quite another to be doling out superlatives on a weekly basis. The level of consumption required to do the latter is mind-boggling.