Editor's letter
"The list of things that bring me pleasure feels almost staggeringly accessible."
The list of things that bring me pleasure feels almost staggeringly accessible. A cup of tea and a game of backgammon with my husband in the morning. Dappled sunlight coming in through a window. Being kissed on the neck, apropos of nothing. An after-work swim. A pre-dinner dance floor in the kitchen. A late afternoon walk as the sun goes down. Slipping into fresh sheets straight out of a hot shower. The first sip of cold Sancerre at the end of a long day. The song “Xanadu”. Warm, ridiculously buttery toast, slathered so thickly it looks like cheese. Also, actual cheese. Rebinging an elite vintage series of a reality show, like Survivor US: Heroes vs. Villains, or Kaitlyn’s season of The Bachelorette. Singing obnoxiously loudly in the car. Reading a novel I can’t put down in the middle of the day when I should be doing literally anything else… Everything on my list is so mundane; almost boringly everyday. Inexpensive, too. So why aren’t they part of my every day? I can’t tell you, except to say that in these times we live in, pleasure isn’t something we’ve prioritised. When we could be indulging in the things that make us feel good, instead we’re out here refusing dessert, torturing our bodies in shapewear and choosing to not go to Disneyland.
When we do consider pleasure, it’s either in the context of a guilty version, or in the purely capitalist framing of treat culture. I love a little treat as much as anyone (and this issue is full of things that will give you the high you’re looking for, if that’s also your thing), but it does feel like a Band-Aid fix to a life devoid of those simpler pleasures that can’t be bought. Yet, somehow, we’ve convinced ourselves that to indulge in those pleasures is hedonistic, or lazy, or something we need to jump through restrictive hoops to earn. Why go on the walk at dusk when you’ll burn more calories running at 5am? Why sing in the car when you could be listening to a self-improvement podcast? How exactly does dancing in the kitchen serve your growth era? Fact: it doesn’t, and, actually, shouldn’t.
"The list of things that bring me PLEASURE feels almost staggeringly ACCESSIBLE."
The things we take pleasure in make us happy, but biologically we’re not designed to want to be happy. Biology couldn’t give a rats if we’re feeling vibey or not; biology just wants us to survive and reproduce. If our brains prioritised pleasure all the time, we’d let our guards down to potential dangers, sitting around all docile and content as we stroke kittens in the sun instead of working to improve our status in society, increasing our safety and giving ourselves the resources we need to fight off threats and avoid pain.
But our world right now is fraught with danger – both external (like war and climate change) and personal (like my bubbling but as yet suppressed paranoia of microplastics). We could so easily give in to a life of ‘shoulds’ (magnesium supplements; two litres of water a day) and ‘shouldn’ts’ (deli meats; doomscrolling), and sometimes it feels like we already have. But where’s the joy in that? A life of no pleasure is surely just as dangerous as one with too much of it.
Just like it says on the tin, this issue is full of little things that give us pleasure: bright lipstick, dining out, ageing well, travelling solo, good books, delightful fashion and (yes) reality TV. But our theme of pleasure also refers to the pleasurable act of reading a magazine itself. Read this one wrapped in something comfy while eating something delicious, preferably with someone kissing your neck, apropos of nothing.
Enjoy the issue,
Justine
Barbie's world
From teenage Tumblr darling to young Hollywood star, Barbie Ferreira — who found fame through breakout roles in Euphoria and Nope — is only just hitting her stride. Courtney Thompson chats to Ferreira about how a weird theatre kid from Queens created the career of her dreams
Keeping it real
Long dismissed as the television of television, reality TV is more culturally resonant than ever. And finally, writes Kathryn Madden, it’s in on the bit
Pleasure state
By now, most of us have heard the story: Australian advertising guru Richard Christiansen walked away from his New York agency during the pandemic and made one of the most celebrated tree changes of modern folklore, renovating a three-hectare property in LA, creating both a home and a brand – Flamingo Estate. Here, he talks us through his personal pursuit of the good life