Pumpkin spice basic
September. A leaf falls at your feet. A breeze kisses your hair. A season shows its first colors, eager to delight with transitions that will challenge but reward you.
And you. Who are you? You are a person anew. A woman who is #thankful for her #blessings, having magically erased the first three quarters of her year. You love soup. You are coddled in chunky knits and hues of burnt orange, your psyche protected by a calvary of pumpkins. Indeed, as you harvest your 36th pumpkin from the seventh patch you’ve visited since that first leaf fell at your feet, you think to yourself, I have a Starbucks reward. Clearly, you know what to do.
The Pumpkin Spice Latte (“PSL”) is more than a drink – it’s a state of being. And while Starbucks was not the first to mix pumpkin with pleasure, it did insert a product into the seasonal narrative of your life perhaps more than anything before it. This is no coincidence. The PSL rolled out nationwide in 2004, the same year as Facebook. In the years to follow, social media ascended to become a powerful force in both our social lives and in the media, intertwining “what is sold” with “what is real” in ways we could not see. Today, we are being sold even when we don’t know we’re being sold. At your first double-tap of fall foliage, the data demons begin their usual work, whispering faintly into the algorithm, it’s pumpkin szn, witches. A week and two dozen native ads later, you’re trotting down the street, PSL in hand all like, “It’s pumpkin szn, witches!” while the sweat from a 75-degree day still rolls down your neck.
This is not just about Big Coffee, though.
I often question the exact moment I became so susceptible to cult commercial activity. By nature, I am a leader, not a follower. I do not like something because others like it – I have to like it myself. And chances are, if it’s a mass-produced product maniacally pushed on women through our most vulnerable channels, I will be skeptical and at times outraged. So how does this person coexist in the same human body with the person who dragged a FALL Y’ALL yard sign across the Michael’s parking lot last weekend?
I do not know.
But in a critical analysis of my other choices, I realize that lately, I am as pumpkin spice basic as they come.
For one, we take staged family photos once a year. Sometimes twice a year, in the same exact park, like a time lapse video of my beautiful children, my anti-aging husband, and me, the only one who always seems at war with the elements. We use them for non-denominational holiday cards, which I don’t remember receiving as a kid but now flood our mailbox with messages of “peace” and “joy” and “gratitude,” and oh, I am so grateful when I finish designing ours, the stress of whether to pay for foil wrap behind me.
And the signs, which have weaseled their way onto our property. As a matter of principle, I’ve always refused to put words on our walls. (I mean really, what phrase could be so important to permanently inscribe it atop my breakfast nook?) But there is a sneaky loophole. If it’s a seasonal sign, it’s not permanent! I may not want to *Eat Drink and Be Merry* in March, but I’m happy to say *Hello, Pumpkin* in October on a lawn sign or a kitchen towel. When did I buy all these kitchen towels? And what season do these roosters belong in?
See, it’s all a slippery slope. You can cautiously embrace the PSL, but things can devolve quickly, until one morning your family wakes up in matching sets of holiday pajamas. When did everyone (fellow Jewish friends, I’m looking at you) start buying matching holiday pajamas? Last year, we even went custom with blue tie-dye. I’m not ashamed – they’re sick. But is it basic to match your two year old? You bet.
The only true explanation for this behavior is social media. After nearly two calendar years of limited person-to-person interaction (especially for the immunocompromised or those with unvaccinated kids), those visuals carry greater weight in our minds and lives. It’s incredibly toxic that even more of our narratives have been reduced to a square. But this is a hard truth of what we’ve been going through. How are the Boneparths, we haven’t seen them in 21 months even though they live a half-hour away? Looks like they’re great, and they match! Dearest friend, I am not great. But thank you for your kind words on our pajamas.
If being basic is a vehicle of visual joy, then so be it. Allow yourself this coping mechanism to get through another season of hampered expectations and personal setbacks. Pumpkins are silly, but if they makes me feel more connected to people I can only see through my phone, then I will line my front steps with them. The silly things are all some of us have right now, and maybe that’s not basic at all.
The little things
Protecting my heart with an army of pumpkins.
Also
The Department of Education announced major changes to its Public Service Loan Forgiveness Program that aim to ease the burden on those seeking forgiveness. Most importantly, the Program will offer a limited-time waiver, allowing student borrowers to count payments from any and all federal loan programs or repayment plans toward their forgiveness. Until now, borrowers have been *dinged* for technicalities and misdirected payments that have ended up not counting toward their required 120 monthly payments. It’s a work in progress but a huge step in the right direction.