When I'm not busy daydreaming about baking croissants or getting into imaginary fights with people who refuse to isolate, there's a high chance I'm watching home makeovers. Similarly to my younger self's obsession with makeup tutorials, there's something satisfying about seeing a blank canvas transform into a beautiful painting, probably incorporating an egg chair and a gallery wall. It's like seeing a caterpillar turn into a butterfly. Like my sourdough rising into a big, beautiful loaf of bread (I did it!!). Like an online personality's poor remarks resulting into a snotty apology video. You get the idea.
I keep telling myself that architecture, design and decor all have a significant impact on our mental health. Offices that don't look like prisons have shown to generate more creativity and contribute to workers' general well-being. It only makes sense that my natural response to isolation is an urge to switch up my surroundings. However, the more I watch home makeovers and move my furniture around, the more I feel like I might just have a subconscious belief that good interior design helps me achieve full self-actualisation without any of the needed soul searching.
Out of fear that a deep-dive into the web of my subconscious would end in thought spirals I can't physically escape from right now, I've chosen to roll with my home makeover binge anyway and worry about the consequences later.
One of said consequences was buying two new plant babies online before knowing how to look after them (so basically, I became a parent.) I blame this video's influence for that. I mean, I've got my sourdough starter, the motivation to grown my own greenhouse plants in the kitchen, and I'm already quasi sheltered from society. I might as well start living in a jungle, pretending to have abandoned civilisation.
Now, the main belief I'm religiously trying to hold on to, is that my home makeover obsession stems from the desire to become a DIY queen. YouTubers make it look so incredibly easy in their aesthetically edited videos that I'm sure they covered up footage of what must be hours of struggles and problem solving. Even pre-crisis, I didn't even dream about ever living in my own house, so looking at smart solutions for studio flats gives me hope and even makes me want to live in a flat where my only space for privacy would be where I shit and bathe. ANYWAYS, this room divider is by far the most unrealistic project I will never take on, but it's cool to see that someone was able to do it. Someone else's achievements online are also weirdly satisfying because it feels like you share their success with them? BRB calling my therapist about my false sense of accomplishment by attaching myself through those of others.
To feel less bad about immersing myself in homes that aren't my own while gaining absolutely nothing from it other than numbly passing time, here's a more high brow version of my addiction. This way, I can unashamedly watch videos about architecture and design, instead of people putting together fairy lights and IKEA furniture.
I'm getting dangerously close to draining my entire YouTube feed of makeover content, so my obsession has finally overcome its language barriers. I might not understand what they're saying, but their living spaces are in many ways speaking for them. After all, they're a reflection of them, right? Maybe their interior choices are even better indicators for who they are? Maybe I have a problem.