let’s have a playdate
By Zoe Bator
Models: Yasmin Evans, Ashley Mack; HMUAs: Maddy Rojas; Photographer: Ian Torres; Stylist: Joyce Kabwe
We chased each other down the grass of the playground and ignored any imperfections in the field. To us, it was the greenest, most refreshing grass and we were prancing down it and thinking about nothing else except how the wind felt against our stride. Everything we saw was in such high visual contrast as our eyes painted our surroundings with the most colorful palette—a vibrant grass green and bright sky blue looking as if they came straight out of our box of crayons. Enthralling ourselves in a land of make-believe, did anything else matter? Our wrists were practically throbbing from the excess of silly bands on them. Did we care? Absolutely not. It was a child-like hedonism. We were visibly covered in idealism. No one told us that we couldn’t try to be anything we wanted. No one told us that the snail-shaped band on our wrist was actually a football helmet. And if they did we wouldn’t believe them. We got to live in a world of our own making. Going home, and looking at the Lisa Frank sticker book that captivated our attention like no other: “No, I don’t want to use them; they’re too pretty.” Looking at their stagnant beauty and then moving them diagonally to catch the light, reflecting off the white light which we believed was a magical rainbow that only was intended for us to see—like a secret from the heavens. It was our reality: silly bands and glossy stickers were the currency. We’d spend the day bartering “I have a glow-in-the-dark!” “I’ll trade you for this one… it’s glittery!” Our capitalism was so colorful. Sharing with others, we felt our first feelings of philanthropy—how good it felt to make someone smile. Our greed and selfishness left our bodies as we saw the happy faces of our peers. What was so special about money? We knew it could buy more bands to adorn our wrists and rainbow stickers to engross us, but what else? A dollar was so strange looking, so boring. We masked its ugliness with pink piggy banks and tiny fluffy pouches. Never did we fully understand how we could rely on this thin and unamusing paper. A few bucks from grandma went straight to our happiness fund. The feeling of the flimsy bill in our hands would never quite compare to the taste of cotton candy ice-cream or the pleasure of a cola-flavored chapstick.
Listening to hyperpop and playing dress-up heal our inner-child, remembering what the world can look like when we take back ownership of that vision. Artists like SOPHIE and Kero Kero Bonito supply that feeling of going down the slide. And, we realize that we’ve just been idly going down the slide—passively going through the motions. We’ve been slowly dulling the color palette.
Enjoy the ride, and when we get to the bottom and see the world open as if for the first time, remember that vibrancy. Recapture that luminescent lens.