Acknowledging Meg Cabot’s series of young adult novels, The Princess Diaries, I have to explain my choice of title for this space—A Princess’s Diary. This is not a take on the presently better-known collection of Cabot’s highly successful work. It is neither an attempt at metaphor, nor is it fulfilling a “princess-for-a-moment” wish. The fact is that I really am a princess, of a kind anyway, from my father’s side. My paternal great-grandfather was the last king of Manipur, which is a state in the far reaches of North-Eastern India. The name “Rajkumar” that is sandwiched between my first name “Nidhi” and married last name “Kiran,” is the artifact that acknowledges my having descended from the royal Manipuri bloodline. This is all to say that A Princess’s Diary is a princess’s diary.
This is where the grandeur begins … and ends. From here on, and as far as I can foresee, everything will be ordinary. The writings will be honestly mundane and will not try to shock or startle, but will hopefully relate to those who read them. This is an act of sharing like one would share moments with a friend over a cup of coffee, on a breezy balcony. At the same time, this is an act of vulnerability that comes with the act of writing.
Writing can be terrifying! Writing demands brutal honesty of heart and mind, and it lays the author open for all to see, and even worse, to judge. As I imagine it, writing happens in the same way as do all acts of immense daring that are born of either a sheer ignorance of consequence, or from bravery that has accepted responsibility for all that will emerge as a consequence of this act, or a little bit of both.Writing is like going to your doctor when there is a reason to go, like a scary lump or an ugly rash. It is nerve wrecking, an invasion of one’s privacy, and often what emerges is something that only clinical objectivity can stomach. As I write these words, my heart is racing, because as I begin this intimate self-examination, I have no idea what I will find, or what I will learn about myself. This is all so much for me, so as a favor to myself (and by extension my readers), I will start with a lighter topic of discussion—the shift in our perception of the “self” at a time when our visibility is defined by the frame of our webcams.
Before I begin with the central idea of how this perception and definition of the self has shifted, it is important to talk a little about “style.” I use this term very loosely, to essentially mean a “look,” a visual signature that marks us all in ways that become part of our identities. To some “style” is the deliberate lack of effort, while for others it could be painstakingly putting on multiple “skins” on every inch of their bodies so that they are physically, emotionally, and mentally transformed into beings of (their) fantasies. “Style” is therefore, like everything else, relative, and means different things to different people.
From this brief discussion of style comes the question of what we perceive as the canvas that must be redone, or reinvented, periodically, as a response to a(ny) social expectation. A singularly prominent influence is visibility. To be more specific, our perceptions of our visibility and our audience. The more the awareness of rhetoric of our visual situation, the greater the need to make a statement, where even a deliberate lack of effort says many things in an instant. In the past, if we were important enough to have an office space that was our own, a picture of the spouse and smiling kiddos, taken when on a vacation about “n” years ago would mark the spot. Asides from that, for the more enthusiastic, the odd knick-knack that articulates a school/college affiliation, or a hobby perhaps, would display the extension of individual style that absent-mindedly spilled over onto our office desks. But for many who spend more hours getting from one physical space to another—consultants from one clients’ office to another, or teachers from one classroom to another, the effort of “dressing-up” a space is low on the priority list, if not entirely absent. This has changed. Suddenly the effort to “style the self” has extended to include the space around us, and includes everything in the camera angle of the webcams, because that space has become an extension of our visual identities to a more focused degree.
John Krasinski’s get-up of a formal shirt and jacket, complete with a necktie, paired with a burgundy colored ballerina’s tutu on an episode of Some Good News, was hilarious as it was adorable. I mean, who doesn’t love a charming father who so openly and self-deprecatingly adores his girls, right? But what he spoofed was what everyone is doing and openly admitting. Seriously! Who among us has not worn sweats, shorts, or flip-flops under that formal blouse or shirt, even once when attending a virtual meeting!
This idea of how our sense of “style” is extending into how we have begun to include our surroundings as well is fascinating to me. Priyanka Chopra Jonas was repeatedly complimented for her backdrop when she came on to plug her forthcoming release, The White Tiger. The backdrop was a wall of dark wood that had a geometric pattern created with the pairing of a flat screen with a modern, minimalist fireplace. It was elegant, one that I would been happy to have for my own backdrop. At the same time, I was left wondering about which made what. I couldn’t help noticing that this backdrop matched her own style, and it was her style that added to the glamour of the backdrop. At the same time, she looked so composed and “put-together” because of the elegance of her surroundings. In all of this back and forth, I had to wonder if the effect have been as stunning if either one of these variables been different. Had the person not been who she was—stunning, intelligent, and articulate, or had the backdrop been a little more ordinary like the off-white walls and the white venetians of the standard American suburban home (office), would the effect have been the same? I wouldn’t bet on it.
This is speculation and the value of speculations of this nature is that speculations can become sparks of ideas that get us thinking about things. After all, unless we begin somewhere, we go nowhere. I am speculating on the question of self-perception and how it has changed as a result of this shift that we have experienced. Has the idea of “body-image” extended to beyond our bodies? Many strive to look like the few PCJs of the world. Now, will they have to even have backdrops as gorgeous as hers? Or, has the focused space simplified things, where a space is defined by not it’s totality, but by the choice of camera angle, or lighting, or in the absence of all else, the choice of which fake background to use? I sign off with the words of Rick Blaine, played by Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, “Here’s looking at you, kid,” or in this context “Here is looking at all of you, kid.”
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