The Insta Cringe

With our lives increasingly geared towards our grids and many of us now seemingly more interested in digital rather than IRL relationships, Grace O’Neill asks whether it’s time to quit Instagram

- Grace O'Neill

WE’VE ALL HAD THAT MOMENT. You’re at a concert, unable to glimpse the band through the sea of smartphone screens (does anyone actually go back and watch those videos?), or squeezing past selfie-taking punters at an art gallery or eye-rolling when your friend won’t let you eat until she’s gone to embarrassing lengths to snap the meal.

I had my own experience of Insta-cringe last month at a bottomless champagne brunch aboard a yacht circling Sydney harbour. Granted, it was picturesque — it was an event practically conceived for Instagram bragging rights — but from the moment we boarded to when we docked five hours later, it was a full blown feeding frenzy. I got hit in the head not once but three separate times by a bevy of designer handbags flung around carelessly by a gaggle of women scrambling to pose for pictures together. Gucci — whack. Prada — whack. Valentino — whack. People fell over themselves, knocked over others, stood on top of one another and shoved people aside in a constant barrage of selfie-taking. For five hours. I looked on with a mixture of bemusement, annoyance and genuine fascination, as it struck me that nobody seemed to be having any actual fun. Instead, they were carefully crafting images in which they appeared to be enjoying themselves.

This is the era of Instagram.