DEFINITION by RAZZ Magazine

DEFINITION EDITION NO. 30

Hello all, It’s been a while. This is an edition that has been in the works all first term, and it’s a great relief that it’s finally here, in your metaphorical fingers. That’s right, we made this edition just for YOU, and if you see anyone else reading it they may think it’s for them, but they’d be wrong. You’re the star of the show here. Print Editions for RAZZ often hide the massive amounts of hard work happening behind the scenes. This is where I thank some very important people, our fab Creative Director Hollie Piff, our excellent Copy Editors Abi Smuts and Katya Green, and of course our brilliant Deputy Editor Hannah Judge. This edition took longer than most, because of a small little thing happening in the background called a global pandemic. That’s not to say our writers haven’t been working hard throughout, especially on our online section helmed by the magnificent Miriam Higgs, who has kept RAZZ as active and busy as ever. When you take into account the delays forced on almost every section of the magazine throughout the printing and editing process because of the pandemic, it may be easy for me to say that it’s amazing RAZZ has made it to your hands at all, but it really isn’t. Everybody who’s contributed, who’s picked up a copy, who’s bought a membership (£6 - less than the price of a substantial meal and a pint), has made this copy get to you. RAZZ has always been based on breaking boundaries and pushing limitations, and I hoped the theme Definition would give us a chance to do just that. I wanted to examine which definitions actually help us work out our place in this (increasingly) confusing world, and which definitions just hold us back. The RAZZ writers more than exceeded my expectations. RAZZ is defined as an arts and culture magazine, but it’s also defined by having some of the most creative and dedicated writers I’ve known. Thank you all. Emma Ingledew xoxo

editors’ note

Hi everyone, Thank you so much to the writers for their amazing contributions to this issue - especially given the fact that lockdown number two made it increasingly difficult for us to go about our day to day life positively. I’d also like to say a massive thank you to our Print Editor Emma Ingledew for coming up with the theme of Definition, and providing great support to both the writers and editors. And of course to our Creative Director Hollie Piff for putting together a beautiful magazine and making the print edition what it is. The thing that makes RAZZ so special is our community who work together to provide a much needed creative outlet for students. Even though this issue is called Definition, it is also about us redefining things in our society that will make it better and more inclusive. This edition is about us looking forward to change rather than living in the past. I hope that you are inspired to question the definitions that restrict you in your life. Hannah Judge x

Hi guys, Hope everyone’s coping with the international turmoil, I know I’m not. This is my first full size edition of RAZZ and it hasn’t been without a few hicupps. However, despite the technical difficulties, lockdown difficulties, and emotional difficulties, I am very proud of what we have made. I have loved working with an exceptional group of passionate writers and creators and I really hope that you enjoy their work as much as I have. Hollie P.S. I’d like to say a special thank you to Lloyd from IT, without him replying to my panicked emails at 7pm this magazine would never have existed. 2

contents. 1-2

3-4

EDITORS’ NOTE

CONTENTS

5-6

7-8

POP CULTURE PICKS

TERRIBLE TWENTIES 11-12

9-10

CRUEL BRITANNIA

YOUR UNI ROOM

13-16

17-18

SAYNA

I’M NOT LIKE OTHER VEGANS

19-22

23-28

IT’S DEBATABLE

PHOTOSHOOT 29-30

CHILDHOOD CRUSHES 3

31-32

SITUATIONSHIPS

35-38

TATTOO SPOTLIGHT

33-34

HETERONORMATIVITY 39-41

CORONAVIRUS AND TIME

43-46

TIK TOK

MUSIC

ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND

47-48

49-50

SOCIETIES IN LOCKDOWN

HOME AND AWAY

51-52

53-54

GYM CULTURE

REBOOTS

Pop Culture Picks RAZZ writers Emma Ingledew, Emma Blackmore, Kiera Riordan and Tilly Attrill explore the Pop Culture Picks that defined their childhood. Illustrations by Hollie Piff and Amy Farman.

The Muppets: Emma Ingledew When I was six my parents made the worst decision they’ve ever made as parents; they bought the first season of The Muppet Show on DVD. Their intent was innocent, they wanted to introduce their children to the show, specifically the song “Mahna Mahna,” and in the pre-youtube days, this was the best way to do it. This was to be their downfall. I became obsessed with The Muppets, to this day I could probably just close my eyes and watch the whole first season through memory alone. But what’s really fantastic about The Muppet Show is that the show genuinely holds up, even years later. Behind the scenes of The Muppet Show was a genuinely passionate team, who knew that being family-friendly was no excuse to not produce the best work possible. Genuine care and attention went into every joke, and it’s not hyperbole to say that it is one of the best examples of good sketch comedy there is. Mahna Mahna.

2013 Pop Culture: Emma Blackmore Has there ever been a bigger year for pop culture than 2013? It was the year of a new royal baby, Grumpy Cat, Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball, the launch of Vine and the breakup of the Jonas Brothers. A time when Oxford Dictionaries named ‘selfie’ the word of the year. It was the peak year for young adult fiction and films: Hunger Games, Divergent, Maze Runner, and the like. A year of countless cinema trips and fizzy drinks with popcorn, of Mockingjay pins, temporary raven tattoos and Liam Hemsworth. Now, I haven’t seen my Mockingjay pin in five years. And despite the novels and films being over now, how luxurious would it be to go back to being thirteen and lost in endless amounts of fiction and nonsense? And who can forget the ultimate throwback to the whimsical year of 2013– the quintessential meme classics. Does anyone think of What Does the Fox Say anymore? Or the Harlem Shake? So, What Does the Fox Say? Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding! 5

The Rainbow Fairies: Kiera Riordan When I was 10, The Rainbow Fairies were the height of cool. A book series, most following the generic storyline of Kirsty Tate having to help (NAME) the (THEME) Fairy and stop the evil Jack Frost. Now, looking back, these books were pretty terrible. Whilst the very first series, the titular Rainbow Fairies, may have been decent, the rest were clearly the same story with minor details changed, and as the series went on the themes got more and more ridiculous (‘Nina the Birthday Cake Fairy’ is a real, published book). However, it wasn’t the story or even the books themselves that made them so appealing and gives me pangs of nostalgia today. It was the games my friends and I played. We all read them, and we spent hours recreating our own themed-fairy adventures together. So today, would I choose to re-read ‘Jay the Boy Band Fairy’? No. Would I go back to pretending my friends were 2cm high fairies? In a heartbeat.

Tamagotchis: Tilly Attrill All a Tamagotchi could do was eat, sleep and die – and yet I still remember the heartbreak of when I left mine out in the rain at my friend’s house. Even covering it in rice for a few days at the back of the cupboard couldn’t bring it back to life. Oh, to be seven and spend all my time after school in the colourful cartoon world of TamaTown; playing the strange mini-games and collecting Gotchi points. To think, when we were younger, we spent hours attempting to keep a tiny digital creature alive – only to forget to pause it overnight and find it had died in the morning. It’s a bit traumatic for a seven-year-old. I would like to take this moment to formally apologise to my mum who had to deal with my regular crying about the death of my Tamagotchi – only for me to restart and do it all over again a few hours later. 6

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RAZZ writer Millie Jackson explores the trials and tribulations that come with leaving your teens.

Oh dear. Where do I even begin to broach the topic of your twenties? Everyone hears plenty about the life crises one experiences at fifty, or thirty, or retirement, but nothing about the terrible twenties.

how much we have to learn in that time. I spent my twentieth birthday in a state of crisis, crying. Ageing feels like it should only affect the middle-aged, but that couldn’t be further from reality. All around me my friends succumb to the pressure of achieving their dream adult life: living in London with a soul-destroying job that costs more emotional damage than their salaries cover, drudging by day after day, imprisoned, until 5:30 pm on Friday night when they remember what it was like to live.

20 20

I think of it as something like the terrible twos for toddlers; teething, tantrums, learning to walk (metaphorically speaking), crying all the time (less metaphorical).

Your peak starts now, buckle up. Hope you’re ready for the ride. This is your time, they tell us. Nothing will ever be as good as now. We start our twenties expecting rollercoaster romances, wild life experiences, and life-affirming moments. Perhaps naively, I assumed that being eighteen, an adult in a technical sense alone, would flick a switch for me. Overnight, the problems that hounded me as a teenager would simply disappear, because I was an adult now, and adults didn’t have to worry about these sorts of things. True enough, my pimples and boy problems are at a record low – the issues I face now are far greater.

We are brought up to expect this movie magic from television. Across our screens people in their twenties have their own residences; runway wardrobes; a career with promising future promotions and substantial salaries; they’re engaged or at least with a long-term partner.

It’s all too easy to paint a picture, much less easy to be the artist that makes it. Twenties represents the loss of childhood. It’s a transitional period, where you’re sort of an adult – but not really. The comforting blanket of youth and security is pulled away, and we’re left with what remains. Bills, taxes, responsibility, agency, autonomy. And it’s scary! There’s a lot of change to adapt to in a short space. Think how different twenty and twenty-nine are,

Adults across the age spectrum reminisce about their uni days – how young twenty feels – but it’s an age of uncertainty. Everything is supposed to happen around about now, and panic settles in when nothing has actually happened yet. Life isn’t living up to its trailer and the film feels like a waste of money. I am twenty years old. Who am I? I ask myself. I am lost. I’m stuck, caught in this web of identity and crisis, feeling that I should be more when my reality is less. There’s nothing glamorous about being twenty. The indecision, the lack of personal truth, the fear that your future won’t live up to expectation. Entry level jobs requiring ten years of experience. No holiday pay, incorrect tax codes. Unpaid trial shifts. Probation periods, job insecurity. A general lack of kindness and understanding of our situations. Too often, our inexperience is taken advantage of. The pressure of reality as a twenty-something makes us fragile things – not enough to withstand the expectations that are placed on us and our lives. And so we beat on, against all our adversities, finding courage in the struggle and strength in our success. Failing is learning, and twenties bring lots of both, for the better. Illustration

Imogen

Phillips. 8

Writer Olivia Garrett explores the colonial legacy of Britain and what this means for 21st century British identity. British Culture: George Orwell wrote that it is something ‘bound up with solid breakfasts and gloomy Sundays, smoky towns and winding roads’, and perhaps there’s something in that, after all, who in Britain is unaware of those banal and pastoral clichés like afternoon tea, long walks and tutting? But, then again who can deny that British culture also lies in intense pub nights, long queues for free samples, and bellowing out ‘Three Lions’ once every four years? The nation of shopkeepers is also the nation of big businesses and industry, and those famed ‘quaint’ manners of ours often go hand in hand with sarcasm and swearing. So, if British culture is so hard to pin down, and such a dichotomy exists within the mundane and positive parts of our lives, how can we possibly hope to define ourselves in regards to the negatives, in particular the sins of our past?

The British Empire at its height controlled 23% of the world’s population and 24% of the world’s land area, the largest empire in history and, for a century, the world’s foremost power. An entity that manipulated and controlled other cultures in the name of the Queen and civilisation. The empire was a catalyst for some of the worst tragedies of the last two centuries including the Partition of India and the Trans-Atlantic slave-trade. These events, though in the past, still hold relevance over society and politics today. Issues of the Commonwealth and colonialism are now associated with Harry and Meghan, and the recent Black Lives Matter protests have left people questioning why certain figures are still immortalised as statues.

“The empire was a catalyst for some of the worst tragedies of the last two centuries...”

Not only that, matters of Brexit and immigration have left some calling for a return to these ‘strong’ days of empire, and even using the medieval imagery of the Crusades to define British greatness. The question is, if this turbulent time is used for left and rightwing purposes, how are we ever going to use it to define us in a sound and holistic way? Early on in schools we learn how we were invaded by the Vikings but not how we invaded others. We learn of slavery, but not its root cause. The Industrial Revolution and the Great Exhibition, but not its support system. The result of this is early glorification and ‘Rule Britannia’s’, yet once you reach the later stages of academic study this image is suddenly torn down as we are exposed solely to the harsh realities of what occurred. This lack of consistency in teaching often produces a polarising effect in people; that of nationalism or of guilt, and this is where bitter political divisions occur. The fact is that almost every country in the world has some sort of atrocity tied to it, but those that have the most unity and definable cultures are those that find a balance in relation to their pasts. In Germany, students are taught about World War II with a head-on approach and events like the Holocaust are heavily memorialised in prominent places. Because of this, you have a generation of young people that are fully aware of the negative effects of totalitarianism and yet distanced from it enough to not feel responsible or complicit. The same model should be approached here; young children should know of colonialism, the reasons behind it and the pain it caused. However, simultaneously this should not mean that the younger generations should be burdened with shame for injurious acts they did not commit.

Above all, acknowledgement is key. If people were more aware of colonialism and were taught about specific instances of violence or separation, then they might not question why certain statues no longer belong. There might not be such a ferocious assertion of British superiority if more was known about our previous attempts and failures to control and assimilate. What’s more, questions of immigration could become less heated and less racially charged if the image of Britain as a golden paradise of progress was dropped from the minds of people and politicians. In that same vein, ideas of guilt and responsibility must be lessened to avoid constant dwelling.

“questions of immigration could become less heated and less racially charged if the image of Britain as a golden paradise was dropped from the minds of people and politicians.” We must move ahead and find a way to merge the elements of our past, both good and bad, with the positive, uniting factors of our present. We must celebrate that Britain has evolved into a multi-cultural society, but not forget why that is. Then, we can enjoy the fact that our culture consists of things like the Great British Bake-Off and rainy beach days at the same time as being one of hardships and warfare. Then we can start to gain some sort of idea on what it means to be British.

what your bedroom Everyone knows that it is not eyes that are the true window to the soul, but the way that you choose to decorate your university bedroom. Esther Huntington-Whitely gives us a quick list of all the assumptions that she can make about your personality based on what decor you have in your uni room:

Fairy lights:

You probably spend too much time watching sad movies alone in your room, but the multitude of sparkling plastic strings you have hung up make it somehow feel less depressing.

Candles:

You don’t, and never have, cared about fire safety rules in your student accommodation/house. That, or they are just purely for decorative purposes and you never actually light them.

Posters:

If they are fun, colourful and aesthetically pleasing then you know what you are doing with your life. If it is a Pulp Fiction or a Clockwork Orange poster then sorry but we can’t be friends.

Hanging vines:

You spent way too much time deciding whether or not to get these from Urban Outfitters and then realised two weeks after that you can get them for way cheaper on Amazon.

Photos:

Wall tapestry:

Depends on the type. But if it’s one you have seen in someone else’s room before, then you’re basic af.

You peaked at school and/or on your gap year. Ever since then it has been going downhill, but at least everyone who comes into your room knows that you were once cool.

Polaroid photos:

You spent all your teenage pocket money on an overpriced camera and copious amounts of film just for polaroid cameras to go out of fashion six months later. Since then, you bring out your camera only for special occasions, or take up precious packing space when you take it on holiday.

Plants:

If you take care of them, good for you. If you don’t, then you might want to reevaluate your caregiving abilities and hold out on attempting a nurturing relationship with a real human.

Cactus:

You want the vibes of a plant-based room but without the responsibility.

Notice/white board:

You are way too organised and make everyone else in your house feel stressed whenever they come into your room.

Empty alcohol bottles:

We get it, you drink alcohol. Unless you are using them to hold candles, in which case you are replicating the Old Firehouse since you rarely get to go there anymore.

Teddies:

You aren’t embarrassed to hold onto your childhood self in the comforting form of a fluffy animal you can’t sleep without.

Diffuser:

You spent too much money on a pretty glass bottle that doesn’t actually change the smell of your room, but at least it takes up space on your shelf!

says about you

IN CONVERSATION WITH

Sayna Fardaraghi

Sayna Fardaraghi is making a name for herself. A London and Brighton based artist, who has made music videos, short films, and worked with DAZED magazine, as well as recently giving a talk with the BFI, and being described by Moonlight (2016) director Barry Jenkins as ‘dopeness.’ Here, we have her in conversation with RAZZ writer Caitlin Barr, talking about her art, influences, and lockdown. CB: L’Observateur references Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom as well as James Bond and reminded me of the narrative style of Jeuneut’s Amelie - all important films and references for our generation. To what extent do the films you’ve enjoyed influence your own work? SF: The films I love massively influence my own work, whether it’s stylistically or in a more thematic sense. I often find myself looking back at my favourite films to delve into their flow and visual language to inform my own work - finding new ways to create the smoothest, yet most creative dynamic possible. L’Observateur specifically was a homage to the films that ignited my love for filmmaking as a medium, so it was much more apparent there with obvious referencing. CB: How do you begin the filmmaking process? Your films are very aesthetically pleasing, so do you begin with the image, or the writing? SF: I always start with the image which is probably a little unconventional when it comes to the beginning of making a film. What happens is that I usually have a concept ready in my head and begin to break it down through imagery that I can visualize, sometimes I’ll also take references from fashion magazines. I really enjoy the work of fashion photographers and the work from them influences my style a lot. I feel

that there are lots of dynamics explored in photography that often aren’t found in moving film, and trying to find creative ways to bridge that gap is so exhilarating especially when you’re successful as you end up creating something new and so fresh to the eye. Once I have that baseline in my head, I’ll begin to weave in my key points of dialogue and fill in the other gaps. CB: Would you say that having a large and dedicated social media following impacts on the way you work? SF: Definitely, I think having such a wonderful following has ended up being the driving force that motivates me to get better and to work harder. It’s also helped me connect with other creatives and spread my work in ways I didn’t think was possible. I truly think without social media and such a wonderful audience I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am today. CB: You’ve worked on music videos as well as your own short films, but what has been your favourite piece of work you’ve done so far? SF: I think my favourite piece of work so far has been Waiting; it’s the piece that truly feels like me, both in the visual sense but also the technical. When I made L’Observateur I was simply dipping my toes into a world of film by paying homage to Wes Anderson, so stylistically it was a lot like him. But now with Waiting I truly feel like I’ve found myself, and my own visual language (though it still has a lot of developing and growing to do!) will be much more resourceful in its process, with lots of collaboration and the utilisation of online and outdoor space screenings. 14

CB: Waiting is about the ways in which time almost felt ‘on pause’ during the lockdown. Given the news recently about many cinemas across the UK closing, and creatives being advised to ‘retrain’ by the Chancellor, what do you think the future of film is? Is it just a case of waiting for things to get back to ‘normal’? SF: I think it’s a mix of both waiting but also adaptability in finding new ways to create, not letting situations box us in. As creatives, we can sometimes have the tendency to think it’s the lack of resources that act as a hurdle, stopping us from making things. But we have to remember at the end of the day it’s not the kit that produces the idea, but the mind behind it. In times like these especially we have to think outside the box and use whatever is available to us to express our feelings and ideas. To me, the future of film will be much more resourceful in its process, with lots of collaboration and the utilisation of online and outdoor space screenings. CB: Did you learn anything new in regard to your art or adapt your processes during lockdown? SF: One thing I definitely learnt about myself is that I have changed in the way I make things and that I have really grown as an artist. During lockdown I was in the process of making a comedic short filmed entirely in my room, done in the same manner in which I used to make things this time last year. (Such as L’Observateur & Letters from Greece - both filmed with my ever so tiny camera that fits the palm of my hand and a tripod). Though of course, that’s what I used to do, and what used to work well for me, it just didn’t serve the same purpose anymore no 15

matter how hard I tried - I ended up scrapping the video completely. With some reflection, I found that my older habits and styles of working just did not serve the same purpose anymore and that my technique has evolved the same way I have even though it’s only been less than a year’s difference. Though that kind of sucked, I didn’t let that stop me from having fun in making something - I ended up doing lots of video experiments exploring practical visual effects with the company of my iPhone & the dining chair it was taped to. CB: What was your favourite film you watched during lockdown, and what are you excited for in the next few months? SF: It would probably be Mommy, Tomboy & Kauwboy (sorry I can’t choose between them!). I’ve recently been delving into more films that have a very delicate feel to them, they just feel personal on all aspects, it inspires me a lot. I can’t wait to see Minari in a few months’ time. CB: Finally, do you have anything in the pipeline in the next few months? SF: Currently I’m working on a very short video that follows a similar narrative to my old work this time last year called Letters from Greece. It follows the concept of unsent love letters that I’m sure many people can relate to, or at least me anyway. It’s taking a long time to be able to get it together because of COVID, but fingers crossed it will turn out beautiful and connect with many. You can find Sayna’s art and films on her website: https://madebysayna.wixsite. com/sayna

“I’m not like other Vegans” Alice Tait explores the stereotypes and stigma attached to veganism.

may be aware of these benefits and be making changes to their own lifestyle already.

It’s undeniable there’s an overtly passionate, anger-fuelled stigma surrounding veganism. Whether you’re being called preachy, a tree hugger, overly sensitive or simply an inconvenience, every vegan has probably faced their fair share of condescending, and just plain rude, remarks from non-vegans. But where does this stigma stem from and is it deserved?

As someone who tries to stick to solely a vegan diet, but occasionally consumes dairy, I understand how difficult and unattainable the lifestyle can seem. Instead of vegans looking down upon all non-vegans from their pedestal of righteousness, they should appreciate that everybody deserves the right to choose their diet.

So-called ‘vegan hatred’ is still very much alive and well, and can seem like a rather irrational response to one’s chosen lifestyle. But perhaps that’s just it. Such a hatred may stem from vegans promoting the notion that one’s diet is in fact a choice. Veganism aims to question the ethical, environmental and health implications of such a diet. When their own cognitive dissonance is brought under fire, denial and anger is a natural response. Maybe this can explain the backlash vegans receive. Unsurprisingly, this can make many vegans feel embarrassed about their dietary choices and wary to not offend others. But as it becomes increasingly mainstream and the threat of climate change grows, inevitably the stigma surrounding it will decrease.

The negative connotations of veganism can be, to a certain extent, deserved. Let’s be honest, there are lots of annoying vegans who do justify being labelled preachy. Advocating the many benefits of the lifestyle can be a tricky subject and there’s certainly a time and place for such activism. Lots of people

Still, many vegans experience embarrassment and awkwardness for simply mentioning their lifestyle choice, concerned that it will warrant being stigmatised as annoying. Naturally one’s lifestyle will influence how they’re perceived, but when their entire identity is defined by their diet this seems rather extreme, particularly when the connotations surrounding veganism are largely negative. Fortunately, it does seem like vegans’ perseverance is working. According to The Times, 3.6 million fewer animals were eaten in the first six months of 2019 compared to 2018, and in Waitrose’s Food and Drink Report 2018-19, the retailer discovered that one in five UK adults say they are following flexitarian diets or reducing the amount of meat they eat. Despite the criticism many vegans face, these statistics paint a promising picture that the UK’s ideology surrounding the lifestyle is certainly changing for the better. Illustration

Hollie

Piff.

RAZZ writers Vibhuti Verma and Aimee Fisher debate the commodification of the body positivity movement.

Retail and beauty brands are currently trying to work hard on their ideologies so that they match those of their audience. However, the degree with which they genuinely care about their new ethos’ varies. The unfolding of a new era of consumers who have stepped up their game and challenged some brands in the market, shows that they are not going to buy anything that the brands offer. The general public frequently voice out their dissent on social media, and are quick to dismiss a brand if it doesn’t resonate with their cultural and moral values.

“...times are changing as society is becoming scious.”

con-

In the ecosystem of marketing and advertising, there have always been certain standards, 19

above or below which was a grey area that no marketer dared to step into. All the brands, from beauty to fashion, sports to travel, have a particular formula to their advertising strategy that has worked for years. But, times are changing as society is becoming more conscious. Both the seller and the buyer are becoming more morally aware and ethically righteous. Therefore, we are seeing a radical shift in the behaviour of brands and their communication touchpoints with us. We must not worry so much that the sudden change in behaviour of a brand is morally derived or not. So long as brands realise the need to work constructively towards a more inclusive society. Taking this into account, some of the mightiest brands are the most ignorant towards sensitive matters like body positivity. For example, Victoria’s Secret received a lot of backlash for its limited view on the ‘type of models’ they would hire to represent the brand. The CMO of Victoria’s Secret, Ed Razek, proudly said that the brand’s fashion show is a “42-minute entertainment special”.

Firstly, objectifying the models who, according to him, are there for entertainment, and secondly propagating a certain type of beauty standard for women beyond which none of it is fantasy-like. This has been seriously damaging to the body consciousness of young women. He mistook the consumer attack on the brand as ‘targeting the brand purely because it is renowned’, and he expunged ‘transsexual’ from his show, later calling the term “offensive and outdated” in his interview. This entire incident only corroborates the primordial concept of ‘beauty’, that is defining beauty standards. It classifies ‘who is beautiful’ into certain categories that are limited, conceited, offensive, and unjust. Meanwhile, brands like Fenty might be milking this shift in awareness of consumers with the Savage X Fenty Collection Fashion Show. The show reflects the ideology of the person who’s responsible for taking such a brave campaign live. Rihanna is a woman of colour, who has struggled to achieve her success. So she understands ‘inclusivity’ in the truest sense of the word. Rihanna exclaims that her attitude towards ‘inclusivity’ is second nature, that is to say that her most natural instinct is to see everyone as equal. Therefore, when she created Fenty, the only way she could think of celebrating women was to celebrate all female body types. In the lingerie world, Rihanna’s Fenty might be the sole competitor to Victoria’s Secret (as of now) and has truly managed to give a hard fight to the legacy brand operating since 1977. Victoria’s Secret started their infamous fashion shows in the 90s, but now with Fenty in the picture and their unbridled championing of ‘Inclusivity’, Victoria’s

Secret was forced to cancel their 2019 show. Fenty might be smart enough to capitalise on Victoria’s Secret’s lack of imagination, and cover the gaps, but who’s to say that the ever so aware audience is going to always be perfectly happy with this new contemporary brand? For example, Rihanna received a lot of backlash for using an Islamic Verse as part of her soundtrack in her latest lingerie show.

“We must not worry so much that the sudden change in behaviour of a brand is morally derived or not.” It has become very difficult for brands to stay relevant. The cancel culture is at its peak and one minor slip-up, even in terms of comments by the brand’s representative, can cost a brand it’s entire future. While it might be very hard to safeguard everybody’s ideologies, what matters most is how proactively brands satiate the audience demands, even if it is just to get on their good side. It is safe to conclude that whether the change in a brand’s tonality is merely a ‘marketing stunt’ or a ‘genuine cause’, the new narrative around body positivity and ‘inclusivity’ is definitely setting the wheels in motion to move towards a more tolerant and accepting society. 20

There is no doubt that the body positivity movement is, as its name suggests, a positive influence on our society. Inspiring ladies like Lizzo and Ashley Graham are finally making thick girls fashionable. The more well-rounded narrative surrounding women’s bodies certainly makes life in a female body a much happier existence. Personally, as a curvy girl myself, seeing beautiful women on my instagram feed that look more like me than the models on the runway, has changed my self image for the better. However, like all social movements that gain momentum very quickly, the body positivity movement still has quite a lot of teething problems. These problems are not solely with the excess coverage by mainstream media, but with the movement itself. Unfortunately, those within the body positive community can often face scrutiny from each other on a large scale. The trending image of body positivity is still far from size exclusive. The fetishisation of ‘thicc’ girls has skewed how we see mid to plus size bodies. Are ‘plus’ models like Ashley Gra-

ham or Iskra Lawrence really ‘plus size’ or do they just have big boobs and bums? Most of the time, it’s the latter. A lot of the models seen front and centre of the body positivity movement still adhere to the traditional tall and shapely model physique that they are so desperate to distance themselves from. We are now starting to see the sexy areas of the big girl body become fashionable with wider spread celebrity culture as well. Huge stars like Kim Kardasian or Kylie Jenner suddenly seemed to have gotten ‘bigger’ in the places that matter, like bum and hips, through cosmetic procedure rather than weight gain. ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ is no longer asked with anxiety but with hope, yet rarely do we see bloated bellies or ‘bingo wings’ on the big names in the curvy community and beyond. One of the most contested issues comes from the ‘positive’ in body positivity. The conversation around loving your body has become in some ways toxic since the movement became more mainstream. Girls with bigger bodies HAVE to love their body no matter what size or shape. The reality of having a bad body image day is no longer an option.

After decades of being told our bodies were not socially acceptable, and having followed every diet known to man, it is natural that the rhetoric of diet culture is still present in our lives.

“Rather than a never

ending

loving

narrative our

bod-

ies, perhaps a better

message

would your

body first, then learn to love it over time.” Learning to love your body is a long journey which will inevitably have days where the sight of your body in the mirror will make you want to cry, or you won’t feel confident enough to wear that tight fitting dress. That is totally normal, but sometimes the body positive movement can force unwavering positivity down our throats. Even things like having a personal trainer or going vegetarian can be seen as giving into your internalised fatphobia. The movement can fall victim to its own

narrative when it comes to rejecting diet culture and end up rejecting healthy lifestyles as a whole. Rather than a never ending narrative of loving our bodies, perhaps a better message would be to accept your body first, then learn to love it over time. Naturally, these inconsistencies work their way into the commercial market as well. Anything larger than a size 14 in a high street shop is either strangely proportioned or impossible to find. Even if you can find your size you’ll have no clue how it will really look on your body, because it wasn’t made with big bodies in mind. Brands like ASOS and Nasty Gal, in their defence, have become more inclusive with their ‘Plus’ or ‘Curve’ ranges, but quite often they don’t have the same style as their standard ranges. Plus size clothes will often be less colourful and have very loose fitting styles, so is this really inclusive? When looking at the mainstream body positivity movement, mid-size and plus size bodies appear to be widely loved and accepted. So how does this new wave of ‘fashionable’ body types really translate into the wider discourse about body image and the fashion industry? As a member of the big girls club, I can’t wholeheartedly say that I feel included or represented in this movement, or by the highstreet retailers. And I’m sure that I’m not the only one.

In lockdown every moment is a potential fashion moment. In partnership with Fashion Soc, we’re...

all dressed up with nowhere to go

Do you remember your formative crushes? Were you sexually awakened by teenage Simba, did you swoon for Luke Skywalker, did an affinity for Max Goof keep you up at night? RAZZ writers Georgia Balmer, Hollie Piff, and Mia Roe share their secret childhood crushes.

I should probably be concerned about my childhood love for Casper the Friendly Ghost. Whilst, through meticulous research, I have discovered that the ‘real boy’ Casper is a popular childhood crush, love for the animated ghost blob that captured my heart is…slightly less common. And yet, rightly or wrongly, I am not ashamed enough about this. As children, we are taught by the adults in our lives the values we should uphold. To me, Casper represented every value I had been taught to respect. Despite being forced to live with his cruel uncles for eternity, he was kind, unfailingly optimistic and selfless; even giving up the chance to go to heaven in order to keep his widowed father company. He was also a true gentleman and remained loyal to Kat throughout the film. Add in a tragic backstory and the knowledge that the ‘real’ Casper looked like young Leo, and eight year old me was swooning. Embarrassed? Maybe.

Luscious locks, fashionable garms, the voice of an angel. As a child, I was in love with none other than Mormon superstar himself: Donny Osmond (as Joseph in the 1999 movie adaptation of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat). My mother had facilitated this infatuation, giving eight-yearold me the DVD as a gift to inspire me before my own performance in a school production, and despite a 34-year age gap, I was besotted. Whilst I can’t tell whether it was the titular technicolour dreamcoat or the loincloth-esque prison attire, that biblical babe had me rewatching the DVD weekly. To this day I refuse to listen to any Joseph recording that isn’t Donny Osmond, sorry Jason Donovan, but you just don’t cut it. Donny looks handsome, he looks smart, he is a walking work of art, in his dazzling coat of many colours, oh how I love his coat of many colours it was…red and yellow…and green and brown and…blue.

As a child, my main hobby was re-watching the same films over and over again, so it’s no surprise that I had a lot of character infatuations, some of which I didn’t even realise at the time. Specifically, I loved Scooby-Doo, I really loved seeing the characters come to life in the early 00s films, but really (really) loved Linda Cardellini as Velma, especially in that jumpsuit. Brains and beauty, she really had it all. Little Mia may have just thought she really wanted to be like her, but the number of times she would sit and rewind that 3-minute scene of post-makeover Velma awkwardly strutting down the Mystery Inc HQ staircase was really not normal. Could you imagine the shock I felt when the scriptwriter announced that she was originally planned to be a lesbian, but the studio turned it down?! 10-year-old Mia would’ve lost it. It might’ve saved her a little time, but after having it finally click 9 years later, Sexy Velma still holds a little place in my heart.

Illustrations

Hollie

Piff 30

situationships Dating at University can be a complicated sport, Charlotte Reisser-Weston explores the difficult middle-ground of the situationship . Dating casually has pretty much been my entire romantic experience at uni. There were guys that I’d meet through mutual friends, perhaps out in TP, spend the night with, and then fall into a pattern of going home with them for a few too many nights, all to claim that there was nothing going on. Most of the time, if I’m honest, these ‘situationships’ would end in a bit of a train wreck. The problem with casually ‘seeing someone’ is, you’re both very much still single, but the longer it goes on for the larger the grey area grows around what you are to each other and what’s expected. Unfortunately, in my experience anyway, there’s rarely a situation where you’re both on the same page, or want the same things. I’ve made the mistake of thinking things were going somewhere with one guy, but after a brief period of ‘exclusivity’ it was clear we both still had very different ideas about what we were ready for. With another, I misunderstood the signif-

icance he placed on the situation, and ended up hurting him fairly badly. Part of the issue from a girl’s perspective, is that advice is always to ‘be chilled’ about relationships with guys – god forbid they think you’re looking for commitment and think you’re a crazy person. I’ve always thought that if anything, I can be chilled – and that’s probably caused more harm than good in my lack of communication to the guys I’ve dated.

“Most of the time, if I’m honest, these ‘situationships’ would end in a bit of a train wreck.” Although there’s something about the emotional rollercoaster that dating in Exeter provided pre-Covid that I miss, I can’t say I’m any less happy for being single. Before lockdown, yes – I did want commitment, and after lockdown – yes, I still want a relationship. However, I’m starting to question the reasons for wanting a committed relationship a lot more than I did before. Perhaps, a step back from my mess of a love life was what I really needed in order to escape the pattern I had landed myself in. And things have certainly changed.

There are a few lessons I’ve learnt (I could be wrong), but they’ve helped my perspective on dating, so maybe they could help you too. 1) If they wanted to, they would. If he’s not texting you, if he doesn’t seem keen to meet up, or if he’s not there for you when you need him – it’s because he doesn’t want to be. People can complicate and make excuses for so much confusing behaviour, but this mindset has meant that I have more respect for myself, and set my standards higher. Sometimes you’ve just got to move on – if they aren’t putting the effort in now, it’s not worth it to wait around until they do. 2) If you want commitment, don’t settle for casual. Guys will most often tell

you pretty early on if they don’t want a relationship – so if they do, believe them the first time. You’re worth more than the heartache of thinking that you can be the one to prove them otherwise. 3) If casual sex is what you want, there’s nothing wrong with that. Someone recently asked me if my recent sex life had made me lose respect for myself. No, I firmly answered, and I knew this was true. I own my body, and casual sex can be fun and empowering for women as well as men. If it’s for you – own it, no one should make you feel ashamed.

“Sometimes you’ve just got to move on –if they aren’t putting the effort in now, it’s not worth it to wait around until they do.” So, what has changed? I’ve decided as frustrating as the COVID rules are for dating, I’m a lot happier when I accept them and look for the silver lining. If anything, 2020 has allowed us to spend more time with ourselves than ever before. Even with a partner, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives with ourselves - so I’m going to focus on getting comfortable with that. Illustrations

Emma

Fry.

Breaking Free from Heteronormativity Katya Green tackles the pervasive nature of heteronormativity, and her journey to self-acceptance. My sexuality is something that has, whether I like it or not, become an immovable part of my identity over the last few years. I wasn’t someone who knew I was queer, like all the stories you read where a sixyear-old comes out to their parents or a young child doesn’t understand why they keep being mistaken for a gender they don’t identify as. I was never that observant. My sexuality hit me like a slap in the face when I was around fifteen (even though it then took me another two years to really come to terms with it, and maybe another two after that). Up until that point, I was convinced I had a crush on my male friend, who I’d known since I started primary school. We’d always been close, and my parents used to tease me about fancying him, and maybe I did, but I was also in an environment where I had a certain social pressure to act upon any feelings for someone of the opposite sex. The culture of allgirls school meant any interaction with the ‘male species’ was not only one of the most exciting things to happen in our miserable lives, but also instantly gained you attention and bragging rights. Without these factors, I don’t think this (possibly imagined) crush would have had the same bearing on my life as it did. I think it says something about our society that conversations about my ‘feelings’ for this male friend became the foundation for exploring my feelings about girls.

I was, and still am, attracted to men and can see myself having romantic relationships

with them as much as I can with women. However, the way I clung on to this idea of a relationship with someone I frankly wasn’t that close to at that point in time, ignoring the growing feelings for other girls, shows how desperate I was to maintain my heteronormative conception of what my life would be like. I never thought that my life would be anything other than what my mum had experienced: eventually meeting the right man, settling down, getting married and having children. I’d wanted to have a family ever since I was tiny; I loved playing with dolls, I helped look after my baby brother. It made sense that this family would include a husband. This, of course, began to change when I realised my attraction to women. Coming to terms with my sexuality was about a lot more than simply who I wanted to date. It meant accepting that I was part of a marginalised group, that I might become distanced from some of my friends and family, and that I might not marry a man. It put into question the whole life I’d imagined for myself. Even when I started dating girls, I think I tried to convince myself this didn’t change anything. That I could have the same life, just perhaps with a wife rather than a husband. I’d come to terms with my sexuality, but I hadn’t really accepted it. I wasn’t out at school, some of my closest friends didn’t know. I didn’t come out to my parents until I was six months into a relationship, and I wouldn’t even kiss girls in public. Part of this was to avoid people’s judgement but a part of it was also that I was ashamed of my own sexuality.

Things changed when I came to university and joined the LGBTQ+ society. The extensive group of queer friends I made during that year of my life changed my perception of my sexuality. I built such a network of queer friends that, in my uni bubble, it was more normal to be queer than it was to be straight. I think I needed that after the casual homophobia I’d experienced in school and in society more generally. By the end of my first year, I’d been elected President of the LGBTQ+ Society and helped to organise the first LGBTQ+ Ball at the university, as well as making a personal rule to no longer allow myself to hide my sexuality. Despite all that, my anxieties surrounding my sexuality didn’t just disappear. As a woman, knowing how awful it can feel to be objectified by men, I think I will always feel uncomfortable with my attraction to other women when I find myself thinking in a way I associate with straight men. Equally, I don’t think I will ever let go of the fear that talking about or expressing my sexuality will push people away and, in all honesty, I do believe that fear to be based on truth. Many people are still very uncomfortable about LGBTQ+ issues, even if they are not outright homophobic. As I continue to better accept and even celebrate my sexuality, that future I set out for myself becomes further and further from the future I now imagine myself living. I recently learnt about compulsory heterosexuality and the idea that society sets out and enforces rules surrounding the nature of romantic/sexual relationships, making anyone who strays from this deviant. This essentially matches up to the future my childhood self-envisioned, one which aligns with society’s heteronormative ideals. So, when I understood that I deviate from that rigid definition of relationships, I eventually recognised that it didn’t make sense for me to try and hold on to that future.

Once I stepped off that path and saw it for what it is, extremely limiting, it no longer matters how far I deviate since I will never achieve that perception of perfection. By rejecting that ideal completely, I’m free to explore my sexuality and be entirely in control of my future (well, as much as is possible). For example, when I was younger, I was certain I wanted my own biological children, but knowing that this wouldn’t be possible if I were to decide to start a family with another woman, I’ve begun to rethink my priorities. I still want children, but it’s become less important to me whether they are my own genetic offspring or not. They will still be my family and they will still be my children.

“Coming to terms with my sexuality was about a lot more than simply who I wanted to date.” It’s becoming abundantly clear that what society continues to dictate and promote as ‘the norm’ is no longer the case. A far higher number of our population identify as ‘not straight’ than we ever thought would. Women are beginning to reject the social pressure to have children which used to define our worth. Couples don’t find it necessary to get married. People are entering into meaningful relationships with multiple people, whilst others are recognising that they don’t experience any romantic and/or sexual attraction. We are far beyond the point where this depiction of adult life is what people truly aspire to or what they experience, and it is high time society as a whole begins to reflect that. Illustration

Amy

Farman. 34

t a t t o o s p o t l i g h t Choosing to get a tattoo can be a momentous decision, but it can also be a bit of fun. We asked a series of people to tell us about their tattoos and what they mean to them-whether that’s heartfelt memorial tattoos, or spontaneous flash pieces.

Tom Moser: In January 2020 my best friend OD’d. One of the last times I saw him was to return an 18oz flask that I had borrowed to sneak whiskey into a ball. When I went through his window it was right there staring at me. After all was said and done it was the only thing of his I took. For the first few months after I took it everywhere with me, I don’t know why I just did. Now, with this tattoo, I take it everywhere with me. To me it symbolises what bonded us, the love of booze and an unwillingness to pay anything above retail price for it. The red tulips were his favourite flower The eagles are a symbol of power to remind me of times when I was struggling through a series of panic attacks and addiction. They are a reminder to never visit that place again. 35

Will Clubb: When I started going to the gym last year, I promised myself I’d get a tattoo if I stuck to working out for a year. It has absolutely no meaning behind it, I just thought lions looked cool! I didn’t mean to get a large one, it was meant to be a small palmsized outline of a lion on my shoulder- but a couple of days before I thought fuck it I’ll get a massive one, we could all die of a global pandemic tomorrow so who cares if I have some ink on my shoulder!

Abi Yee: None of them have much meaning, I just really appreciate the art. This snake is one of many, I just texted my tattoo artist, and asked her to draw whatever she wanted. The only conditions I gave her were no nudity and no profanity, and this is what she came up with. His name is Norbert. The agape was my first tattoo. I figured if it was something religious my Christian parents wouldn’t kill me.

Billy Mabberley: The first tattoo I got after my grandad passed away after suffering for a while with Alzheimer’s disease. It’s a piece incorporating a few things synonymous with who he was as I was growing up. He smoked a pipe, drank Guinness, and he was born in Dublin, hence the shamrocks and the orange, green and white detailing for the colours of the Irish flag. The second tattoo of the snake is based upon the symbolism that shedding their skin can be interpreted as a new beginning. I’ve been through a lot over the years (suicidal friends, bullying, bad mental health, losing relatives etc.) so it’s just to remind me that no matter how bad things get I can always start over and build myself back up again.

Nina Cunningham: I could pretend my tattoo means something deep, but really, it’s just a reminder of friendship and the positivity that comes from spontaneity. The artist had a selection of tattoos for discounted prices on Friday 13th, and my friend asked which one she should get. I asked to go with her, and in the end, three of us went together and got tattoos done, two of us for the first time. It was a lovely bonding experience.

Ashleigh Long: The house represents my ability to find home wherever I am. I don’t have a family, so I have to be able to make a home for myself. Puma was my jungle name, given by my guide when I went travelling in South America. He gave it to me when we trekked in the Amazon

Mary Trehxrne: I got my tattoo in Lower Sydenham, and it’s a floral band - traditionally black bands are for when you lose someone. I lost my Babi, my grandmother, this time last year, and she was my favourite person in the world. We spent all our time together in the garden, and she would’ve hated a morbid black band - so I got a band of her favourite flowers to remind me of her.

REDEFINING TIME

How COVID helped me rediscover my work-life balance RAZZ writer Aimee Fisher reflects on the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on her productivity and concept of time. Like many people, I’ve spent the majority of the last 6 months trying to fill the endless void of time that lockdown gave me. But, now my university life is back into full swing, I find myself wondering, where does all my time go? I’ll work for what feels like hours but still feel like I’m behind on everything. Since university has moved almost exclusively online there is no longer a limit to how late or long I can work on things for. While being productive is great and the work still needs to get done, I still can’t help but feel I’m not using my time wisely. From an overwhelming amount of free time to a packed yet still empty timetable, what does ‘time well-spent’ really mean anymore?

“While being productive is great and the work still needs to get done, I still can’t help but feel I’m not using my time wisely.”

If someone had asked me to define time, or more specifically how I use my time, in October 2019 the answers would be fairly standard. I’d get up around 9 and prepare for my day, then head to campus for a lecture or a

seminar, then either go home or go to a coffee shop in town and work for a few hours, come home and cook, work a bit longer and then have a night out with my flat. While I was doing all this work and socialising I was also trying to actively be part of societies, read books for personal use, exercise regularly and countless other small things that would slowly build up. I was desperate to make the most of my first year of university. It is meant to be the best time of your life after all. But even before university I had always been a workaholic. While at college I had 2 jobs and studied almost non-stop for two years and still maintained a good-ish social life, relationships and a fluctuating exercise routine. But as the year went on I found myself getting burnt out faster than ever. Monday to Wednesday I’d be super productive but by Friday morning I couldn’t even get out of bed for my 9:30 seminars. My academics slipped and for the first time I was falling behind. At the same time I had finally bonded with my flat mates so we were going out more, desperate not to be left behind by my new friends I would say yes to every dinner, coffee or night out we had. I didn’t see myself hurtling toward a burn-out oblivion until I was crying in my room on the phone to my mum saying I wanted to drop out of uni. I hadn’t been to a lecture or seminar for 2 weeks because I could barely get myself out of bed to eat let alone study. But why did I constantly work myself into a black hole? I was obsessed with not wasting time.

This is not a new issue for me and everyone I know, no matter what age, will have a similar story. Whether it’s university work or working extra hours or getting a side hustle, we are a species driven by work. These insane competitions of who works the longest or who goes out the most times a week drive us to the brink. We are desperate to not look like we are wasting our time with menial, non-productive things like watching Netflix or just doing nothing.

“Pre-Covid I’d never really allowed myself time for ‘hobbies’ or any kind of leisure activity. Time spent enjoying something that wasn’t related to studying or earning money didn’t feel productive enough for me.” Personally, I felt like I was surrounded by competition and this was partly of my own making. I was so fixated on becoming more productive I would watch endless videos from ‘Study-tubers’ like Ruby Granger or UnjadedJade to learn how to imitate their work ethic. Videos with the titles ‘Study with me: 15 hour study day!’ or ‘January readathon: I read 500 pages in 1 day?!’ would fill my feed daily and I constantly felt the need to imitate this or, even more worryingly, beat it. Being able to stay up all night

writing an essay was a badge of honour for me but no one knew the true effect on my mental health, that is until I stopped. Almost overnight in March, I went from being out 24/7 and working myself to death to a terrifying expanse of time. Lockdown, for everyone, was one of the most disruptive shifts in lifestyle we might ever experience. After years of revolving my life and personality around being ‘busy’ I finally had more down-time than ever before. This should have been a blessing and realistically I should have used this time to have the recharge I so desperately needed, but the workaholic in me could not let that happen. For the first time ever I was truly confronted with my ‘Lesuirephobia’. I had a lot of time and, when lockdown started, nothing to fill it with. Pre-Covid I’d never really allowed myself time for ‘hobbies’ or any kind of leisure activity. Time spent enjoying something that wasn’t related to studying or earning money didn’t feel productive enough for me. Even my love of reading became commodified when I chose to study English at university. But now I could watch all those films I’d put off, try and learn to paint, read or exercise for fun rather than stress relief. I still managed to try and make these fun activities productive or financially beneficial because I was afraid of enjoying an activity simply for the sake of enjoying it. My desire to learn to paint was fuelled by wanting to start an Etsy store and my copious amount of baking was done with the end goal of creating a cake business on Instagram like so many people had done since quarantine began. When I realised these business ventures were inevitably unattainable I was able to explore these avenues simply for pleasure.

Even though I was plagued with anxiety over being ‘unproductive’ for such a long period of time I started to love my downtime and, as to be expected, my mental health improved vastly from crying in my room utterly exhausted with my lifestyle. I learnt a lot over the summer about accepting and prioritising time for things I enjoy beyond my degree and I’m now a much happier person. But, what happens now the new term has begun? The ability to make your own timetable and be entirely flexible is something new to many of us who have been in a strictly time-managed

education system for most of our academic lives. I thought after such a long time having no structure and nothing to do I would be ready to learn again, and armed with my new-found ability to give myself time to relax I was ready to take on anything. That is, until I actually started. Last year I was backwards and forwards to lectures and seminars, but now I’m at my desk all day and it is far easier to sit and work for an extra hour 41

or two because I’m already there. After not seeing my friends for such a long time I’m constantly on facetime with someone or going out for coffees, but after not seeing anyone but my family for months I feel disconnected from interacting with the outside world. And once again, it is exhausting.

“I learnt a lot over the summer about accepting and prioritising time for things I enjoy beyond my degree and I’m now a much happier person. But, what happens now the new term has begun?” For better or for worse, lockdown has redefined how we spend our time. For the first time in a generation, we have been given the opportunity to recalibrate our work life balance. Being at home all day, every day allows for our schedule to include more personal time. But, all this time at home also gives people the excuse to keep working late into the night. Personally, I find this concept daunting, I can either go further into my workaholic lifestyle or become more balanced, but is a balanced lifestyle really compatible with blended learning? The reality is, the longer COVID-19 and social distancing pushed us into our home office, the quicker people will realise that our current work life balance is not sustainable long term. And the sooner this time comes the better. Images from Vlada Karpovich via Pexels

The The Rise Rise of of TikTok TikTok Music Music RAZZ writer Senthur Shanmugarasa explores the impact popular app TikTok is having on the charts.

Whether you think it’s a bit of harmless fun or an undercover government surveillance device, no one can doubt the popularity of viral social networking app, TikTok. Its simple and creative nature has made this app a global phenomenon and has some repercussive impacts on ‘traditional’ media. Nothing has been clearer than its impact on the music industry; simply typing “TikTok” into Spotify returns multiple playlists titled Viral Hits. TikTok has brought life back into the music industry, providing a breath of fresh air. Viral trends are often backed with danceable, catchy and upbeat tracks, just pop into any of the new sit-down nightclubs in Exeter and you’ll see people doing TikTok dances to artists such as Doja Cat. This danceability can be seen in a broader sense with the feel-good disco revivalism being the current trend of pop music showcased by Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia. If pop music isn’t your thing, the tailored nature of the app means your ‘For You’ page is likely to come with music more suited to your tastes. This and TikTok’s viral nature has allowed the emergence of artists from ‘non-traditional’ backgrounds, who previously would have gone without recognition, an example being New Zealander BENEE.

“Viral trends are often backed with danceable, catchy and upbeat tracks...”

As often is the case with viral trends, artists responsible for these viral tracks can be a flash in the pan and subsequently will be shackled by the one-hit wonder syndrome. The important question is whether or not this popularity translates into charts and commercial success. With more and more mainstream artists recognising the commercial viability of the app, will this marginalise smaller artists who rely on it for exposure? Only time will tell.

“TikTok has brought life back into the music industry, providing a breath of fresh air.” The viral nature of TikTok and its surge in popularity during the pandemic has given rise to so called ‘Bedroom Pop’, described as being the soundtrack of Gen Z angst. The DIY nature of the music and the intensely personal lyrics has resulted in these videos racking up millions of views on the app, and artists such as Clairo and Beabadoobe have become the most sought after artists in the industry. Personally, from a music perspective, the positives tend to outweigh the negatives mainly due to the catering nature and simplicity of the app. Being a self-confessed ‘indie kid’, my ‘For You’ page is littered with up and coming artists, some of which I’ve never heard of. The post-COVID future of this world may look bleak, but the music industry surely must be counting their blessings due to the explosion of music on TikTok. 42

Escaping the of

Prison Memory

Valentine Naude revisits Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and its representation of memory and relationships. Looking back, looking in, who hasn’t wished for a new beginning? To be unmarked, untouched, spotless? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), written by Charlie Kaufman and directed by Michel Gondry, investigates the common desire to be freed from the pain of the past and to start over. The film presents us with a world in which it is possible to erase the memories of your choosing; our two protagonists, Clementine and Joel, decide to undergo this procedure after an ugly breakup.

“...the things that make us fall in love with someone are sometimes the same things that will make us fall out of love in the end.” Complications occur when Joel suddenly changes his mind and goes on a journey through his own memories to try and keep Clementine from being erased. Eternal Sunshine then recounts the downfall of Joel and Clementine’s

love in reverse: Joel slowly begins to remember how he and Clementine fell in love, demonstrating how the most painful memories often overshadow the good ones. Through this reverse depiction of love’s decay, a portrait emerges of two flawed human beings. Joel is socially inept, insecure, closed off, and afraid of change. Clementine is extroverted, headstrong, temperamental, and scared of being stuck in the same place. She’s always the one making the first move, taking the lead; she makes Joel come out of his shell and encourages him to live life to the fullest. “I love that about you”, Joel says about Clementine’s impulsive nature, unaware that this same recklessness will be the reason for their biggest fight. At the end of the film, when Joel and Clementine listen to their former selves explain everything that was wrong with their relationship, Eternal Sunshine delivers its grim lesson: the things that make us fall in love with someone are sometimes the same things that will make us fall out of love in the end. Two people can change each other for the better and for the worse. “I was thinking about how I was before and how I am now, and it’s like he changed me”, Clementine says before her memories get erased. “I don’t like myself when I’m with him. I don’t like myself anymore.”

Joel and Clementine’s respective flaws don’t disappear once they get together, nor do their differences seamlessly complete each other’s. Rather, their relationship brings out a conflict present in all of us: the one between how you define yourself and how you really are. Clementine repeatedly gets angry at Joel because of his supposedly skewed perception of her: “I’m not like that”, she tells him. Eternal Sunshine seems to imply that identity is a story you tell yourself. Yet Clementine struggles with defining who she is, as suggested by the way she’s constantly dying her hair; in her own words, she applies her personality “in a paste”. Red, orange, blue, green: the colours mirror the seasons of Joel and Clementine’s love, from summer hot to winter cold, and then spring again – a new beginning. It is no accident that the place Joel and Clementine always come back to, from the first time they meet to the first and last scenes of the film, is the sea. Human nature, like the waves pulling away and rushing back, like the seasons of Clementine’s hair, is both constant and everchanging. This is what the film sets about showing through special effects and a non-linear narrative: the fickleness, fuzziness of memories, one merging into another like dreams, a testimony to the fragility of identity.

“Erasing the pain does not, in fact, bring eternal sunshine.” The film’s opening scene introduces 45

us to Joel after his memory has been wiped. He’s a boring, lonely, empty shell of a man: “You should read my journal, it’s just… blank”, he tells Clementine. He has become a blank slate, someone who has not yet been changed by experience, a journal with its pages ripped out, a story untold like all the white books in the library. As he strips his home of all the quirky things he associated with Clementine, the place loses all personality, becomes “plain, uninspired”. By erasing Clementine, Joel is also erasing the impact she had on him. As she disappears from his mind, he starts losing his sense of self.

“Red, orange, blue, green: the colours mirror the seasons of Joel and Clementine’s love...” By exploring the connection between memory and identity, Eternal Sunshine wonders: what makes you who you are? It is the desire for everlasting happiness that propels us to bury the past. But what the film tells us is that feelings and memories are inseparable, and buried memories are often the most self-defining. Erasing the pain does not, in fact, bring eternal sunshine. It makes it impossible for us to learn, to grow and to move on; it only condemns us to repeat the same mistakes and enslaves us to our impulses. Like Joel and Clementine, we must learn to embrace all of the things that define us, and leave the rest to the sea. Illustrations

Hollie

Piff.

SOCIETIES IN ISOLATION SOCIETIES IN ISOLATION SOCIETIES SOCIETIES IN IN ISOLATION ISOLATION SOCIETIES IN ISOLATION Caitlin Barr investigates the hurdles facing societies during the COVID-19 pandemic. As Freshers and returners flocked to Exeter in September, many were hoping that, after 5 months spent mostly in the confines of their rooms, Exeter symbolised freedom. Many hoped to be able to start or develop hobbies, friendships and EG records at one of Exeter’s many societies. Of course, instead, the current pandemic has meant cancelled events, closed clubs, and limited contact between households, enforced by the Government and the Guild.

“Many hoped to be able to start or develop hobbies, friendships and EG records at one of Exeter’s many societies.” Perhaps one of the most harshly hit groups has been sports societies. Many had to swap practising on a pitch for training on Teams, with varying degrees of success. The social element of sports, namely TP

Wednesdays, also had to be shelved in favour of nursing a beer on a Zoom call. While in recent weeks outdoor sports societies such as rugby and football have been able to run taster sessions and training, and even some friendly matches, Oli Kleinschmidt, Social Secretary for Archery, mentioned the difficulty of not being allowed to run indoor sessions. At the time of writing, the Athletics Union are in the final stages of working out how sports societies who operate indoors

Photo courtesy of Creative Writing Society

can meet safely under current guidelines. In the meantime, archers, dancers, fencers and many other students are signing risk assessments and planning sessions, waiting for the green light to start up again in person.

“...many have noticed that it has lead to less interaction and fewer people turning up. Others have found that the transition has limited what they are able to do.” Music and drama societies have also had to adapt to a very different creative landscape – one in which auditions have had to take place over video call and rehearsals are characterised by everyone being just slightly out of sync. Kit Barton, who has been attending Folk Society since her first Freshers’ Week, and is currently Social Secretary, talked to me about her experience since coming back in September. ‘It’s been hard – the joys of art are almost always amplified when you can share them in person – but the love and support from other members has been palpable. We can’t play in person, so we take turns on Zoom calls – and dancing is right off the agenda for now’. She also mentioned the fact that for many, practising instruments at home is near impossible, though the Guild is working hard to mitigate this by opening practice rooms in a safe way so that students can book the spaces. Still, music and drama societies alike are treading carefully, unsure of when they’ll be able to rehearse together in the same room, let alone perform to audiences. Many other societies have also had to alter their regular events due to university

and government guidelines. For some, this is a fairly smooth transition – venues have simply changed from real life to over zoom. Of course, this is still frustrating, and many have noticed that it has led to less interaction and fewer people turning up. Others have found that the transition has limited what they are able to do. Film Society, who only became Guild affiliated just before lockdown and ran their first few events during the summer over Netflix Party, have found themselves restricted in terms of the films they can screen, as well as having to shelve ambitious in-person event ideas. Social Secretary Reuben Hendy is nevertheless optimistic – ‘our society is easy to get involved in with our online screenings and socials, so we’ve seen a fair amount of people coming along. Hopefully, when we get the go ahead, some of these events can transition to being held safely in person’.

“...music and drama societies alike are treading carefully, unsure of when they’ll be able to rehearse together in the same room, let alone to perform to audiences.” A future when societies can meet together, shoot at a target, dance a ceilidh and watch films in the same room is certainly on the horizon. Until then, societies are making the most of a difficult situation, holding out for an end to government and Guild restrictions.

Home & Away

WHERE DO

I BELONG?

WHERE’S H

OME?

WHO AM I?

Harry Edmundson navigates the complicated splitting of self that comes with moving to Uni. Being a student is a unique identity. A transitory persona that seems so distinctly separate from normality, built upon change, transitions, growth, and difference. Often the student is perceived as the lazy, alcohol-prone, nuisance to the towns and cities they inhabit and COVID-19 has only exacerbated this reductive depiction. With family homes becoming campuses, lecture theatres, and study spaces, the distinction between our student selves and our home selves begin to blur and challenge one another. The student went home and remained the student. On March 22nd, I called my dad, frantic and anxious-- the virus was close and real now and I was in Exeter with lockdown looming. Over the course of the next four and a half hours my entire freshers’ experience was boxed up and ready to be packed away indefinitely. The contents that represent my student identity—that had made me a completely new person to the one I was in

September 2019—were now to be abandoned as I went back home. In less than an academic year I was a different person to the queer boy who left home to read books over four hours away and I was now faced with the physical objects that represented that change. It seems weird to feel that way towards my possessions, but these were photos, clothes, and books that allowed me to tackle Exeter and this very adult, very alien part of my life. At uni I became my ‘new’ self – more self-assured, and without the doubt that plagued my earlier teen years.

“The anxiety of the time, as well as such a seismic, unfathomable change in plans turned the homely novelty of seeing family and close friends into an identity crisis.”

The journey home was solemn and felt different to Christmas or any other visit home before that. Freshers’ was a fever dream I’d been woken up from, going home as a different person, a university student –something I’d imagined for years. But, I would also be far from the friends and cafes and nights out that helped me get to that point. In complete honesty, I felt a bit traitorous coming back to my hometown where university didn’t seem to be the popular choice – especially at my academy sixth form. It was like I’d outgrown my home self and now my interests made me look a bit pompous or full of myself. Clearly, with this thought pattern emerging as lockdown dawned and my university became my childhood bedroom, my two selves had decided to rather ungracefully smash into one another.

“In complete honesty, I felt a bit traitorous coming back to my hometown where university didn’t seem to be the popular choice...” The crisis occurred at the peak of the pandemic. It was the forced confrontation of past and present. As my family watched old home videos, I saw myself as a baby and toddler and quite curiously fell apart. I was inconsolable for days. It was triggering looking at that toddler knowing the highest highs and lowest lows of his next fifteen plus years. I was inconsolable, remembering all the bullying and the relentless efforts to be accepted and included that would define his ‘home’ identity. In

writing about this, cathartically I am solving the riddle to this crisis. I now know that the person watching myself in 2001 is someone I am finally content with and proud of. It may have taken overcoming many hurdles and sources of torment, but I got there.

“The crisis occurred at the peak of the pandemic. It was the forced confrontation of past and present.” At university, opportunity felt unlimited in a way that home did not. The cultural mosaic and diverse fabric of the student body afforded a newfound assurance in myself that felt surface-level back home, performative. I came back and realised the state of denial I had lived with in order to not seem different. Yet the belongings boxed up ready to go home showed that I was, and that it was, something to embrace rather than hide. My home self and student self contradicted one another and refreshing my bedroom during lockdown showcased this – relics of the past sat aside my student self’s possessions. I found myself emanating Whitman, accepting my contradictions and saying, “Very well, I contain multitudes”. And even still, quoting literature and being so selfaware and confident in that makes me feel like an imposter, as if I am that pretentious traitor I feared I was. Just like that night on the 22nd March, it is a journey to reconcile this split sense of self but, by being locked down, I have realised, quite melodramatically, that life is too short to be afraid to be yourself. Illustration

Hollie

Piff. 50

Since Since When When Did Did Healthy Healthy Become Become a a Body Body Type? Type? Amie Greenhalgh rebukes the notion that body types can be an adequate measurement of health. Health is “a resource for everyday life, not the objective of living. Health is a positive concept emphasising social and personal resources as well as physical capabilities.” That is the definition of health according to the World Health Organisation (WHO). However, in recent years, society has decided to create a new definition of what healthy looks like. With the rise of the fitness industry – which is now worth over $595 billion – and social media #Fitstagram accounts, there has been an increase in the promotion of the healthy lifestyle and exercise. Yet, this has brought with it a much darker and more dangerous mindset. Judgements based on weight and appearance have become the norm throughout the social media world; images of the so-called ‘ideal’ body become impossible to ignore. The ‘ideal’ for 2020 however, is far from the ideal of just a few years ago. In recent years, the trends have gone from fashion suited to larger boobs to smaller ones, the big bum is now praised but that was the opposite just ten years ago. It is hard to keep up. The trends are changing so often and the goal posts of what is ‘ideal’ are constantly moved. Is it really an ‘ideal’ if it 51

shifts every few years? I would argue not. These fashion trends come and go and regardless of what they are; everyone’s idea of ‘ideal’ is different so attempting to please others is fruitless. Focusing on our own versions of ‘ideal’ should be the prevalent discourse, not this toxic and untrue one.

“The trends are changing so often and the goal posts of what is ‘ideal’ are constantly moved. Is it really an ‘ideal’ if it shifts every few years?” In the last 10 years however, a new trend of fitness culture has emerged that is still growing in success with the pandemic only increasing its popularity. In 2011, Chloe Ting joined Youtube and started a fitness empire of her own that now has a following of 15.3 million subscribers. In 2012, we saw the launching of hugely successful fitness brand, Gymshark, and a year later came Fabletics. These are just three examples of the success of the new health and fitness culture that has taken the world by storm. However, the visibility of ‘health’ culture has opened the doors for people to critique each other’s bodies based upon their own assumptions of that fabled ‘ideal’ of a healthy body.

Recently, Gymshark was criticised for posting a picture of model, Nelly London, in which she happened to show her stomach whilst also showing off her strength. One troll went as far as to comment “gymshark not MacDonald’s”, whilst another labelled the company “fatshark”. Though Gymshark hit back at these Instagram users by replying, “Healthy looks different on everyone and cannot be judged by someone’s looks”, the fact that these comments exist shows the prevalence of the perception that healthy has a particular look and body type. There is no mention of weight or size or look in the World Health Organisations definition. Yet, because of this weight-centred mindset throughout society, insecurities surrounding the body are on the rise. I had reservations about writing this article because why should I? Me, someone who also has those moments of insecurity around my own body. How could I then go on to write a message of body positivity?

“...the visibility of ‘health’ culture has opened the doors for people to critique each other’s bodies based upon their own assumptions of that fabled ‘ideal of a healthy body.”

“Though the ‘gym body’ has become genderless, the judgements--for all genders --haven’t stopped.” The sad reality is that these thoughts and insecurities are far more common than ever before. Though the ‘gym body’ has become genderless, the judgements – for all genders – haven’t stopped. The definition of what ‘health’ looks like in a body seems so unattainable for everyone. But it is in fact a socially constructed idea, not science. It is time we realised that every body is different. The number on the scales is not reflective of health on a physiological level. Muscle weighs more than fat, bones weigh more than muscle, yet the scale can’t tell. Would you call a body-builder obese? Defining ourselves by our weight is not the way forward for a healthy mind, or a healthy body for that matter. Insecurities are normal and it’s not easy to suddenly turn off this mindset. But, acknowledging that the problem lies with society is a good first step.

If there is one thing this pandemic has shown, it is how crucial social interaction is to your health and wellbeing. Your health is not just dependent on your bodily functions, but the stimulation of the brain, the interactions with friends and the creation of new relationships. Your weight is not who you are. Image

from

Tim

Samuel

via

Pexels.

Reboot, Remake, Recycle Imagine a character being so firmly engrained in popular culture, that you could be sued over the particulars of his emotions. This is what Netflix is facing, as the Conan Doyle Estate is taking legal action, because they feel Henry Cavill, in Enola Holmes, portrays the ‘warmer’ side of the detective that is present in Doyle’s final 10 stories – of which they still have copyright over in the US. This protectiveness of the fictional creation is perhaps not surprising; after all, Guinness World Records have listed Sherlock Holmes as the most portrayed literary human character in film and television history. Doyle’s estate argues that Sherlock evolves as a character over the course of the original stories, but is that also true of the many adaptations made over the last century?

“The approaches taken by 21st century adaptations have been more ambitious, deviating more from Doyle’s stories.” One of the first on-screen appearances of Arthur Conan Doyle’s detective was in a series of films starring Basil Rathborne as the lead, and for many, Rathborne is the embodiment of Holmes: dynamic and exciting, yet intelligent and aristocratic. Perhaps 53

RAZZ writer Erin Zammitt tracks the changing faces of Sherlock Holmes and examines how far Sherlock has come since his creation.

because the first film was released only twelve years after the last canonical work by Doyle, Rathborne became so synonymous with Holmes that it arguably defined the rest of his career. The same can be said for Jeremy Brett, who occupied 221B Baker Street from the mid-1980s for a decade, in a TV series for Granada. Brett was praised for his accurate and nuanced portrayal of Sherlock’s complexity, with humour and charm effortlessly balanced with arrogance and impatience. As masterful as his performance was, Brett’s obsessive, manic personality meant that he went to extreme lengths to truly become Holmes, to the detriment of both his physical and mental health. The approaches taken by 21st century adaptations have been more ambitious, deviating more from Doyle’s stories. For example, Guy Ritchie’s 2009 film Sherlock Holmes starring Robert Downey Jr. (and its 2011 sequel) takes the Victorian setting and adds dazzling effects and elaborate fight scenes, with Downey Jr. giving Holmes a unique physicality and rugged swagger. There’s also the long-running TV series Elementary, where the action takes place in contemporary New York City, giving the duo of Watson and Holmes a whole new dynamic as Jonny Lee Miller dons the metaphorical deerstalker and is joined by Lucy Liu as Watson. With 154 episodes over 7 seasons, Miller takes the title of the actor to have played Sherlock Holmes the most.

Elementary is, of course, arguably outshone by another modern adaptation, albeit set in the London that Doyle had envisioned. That is, of course, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat’s Sherlock, which has Benedict Cumberbatch at the helm. The modernity of the series is striking; Watson’s stories become blog posts, the ‘three-pipe problem’ becomes the ‘three (nicotine) patch problem’, yet the iconic qualities of Holmes remain. Cumberbatch highlights a darker side of Sherlock, his performance making the show reminiscent of its Victorian gothic roots. The compelling dynamic between this particular Holmes and Watson (played by Martin Freeman) has led some to argue that Sherlock has softened, showing a lot more empathy than in previous versions – but perhaps this was always present in the source material. In one episode, Holmes says to Watson, “I’d be lost without my blogger”, but note that this is only a nod to the line, “I am lost without my Boswell”, from Doyle’s 1891 short story, A Scandal in Bohemia.

the Holmes brothers can only attempt to keep up with the exciting adventures of Enola as they watch from the sidelines. More than 130 years after he was first introduced, and over 100 years since his first resurrection, the character of Sherlock has continued to be brought back to life over the years. Different generations will each have a different actor as ‘their’ Holmes, whether that be Rathborne, Brett, Cumberbatch or even Cavill. But has the character changed over time? Probably not. Each of the actors to have played the role emphasises a different aspect of the character that Doyle originally created, yet there remains an indescribable yet recognisable quality in Sherlock Holmes, one that continues to connect many an audience to this ‘high functioning sociopath’. Illustration by Amy Farman.

It is interesting that for all the debate on personality changes, the physical profile of Sherlock has remained largely the same through the host of incarnations. Although the late Yugo Takeuchi portrayed the character in HBO’s Miss Sherlock in 2018, in most mainstream adaptations, Holmes tends to fit the same description, a white male. Female representation has always been an issue within the world of Sherlock, and it’s for this reason that I found Enola Holmes, based on Nancy Springer’s novels about Sherlock’s younger sister, refreshing to watch. Rather than simply gender-swapping the same role, Enola (played brilliantly by Millie Bobby Brown) is a new character who possesses the recognisable Holmesian traits yet exists far from the shadow of her siblings. Whilst women in Sherlock stories are typically supporting characters at best, here 54

Contributors Bridie Adams

Bella Judd

Tilly Attrill

Hannah Judge

Georgia Balmer

Ashleigh Long

Caitlin Barr

Billy Mabberley

Emma Blackmore

Holly Martin

Will Clubb

Tom Moser

Eugenie Cockle

Valentine Naude

Nina Cunningham

Imogen Phillips

Harry Edmundson

Hollie Piff

Amy Farman

Charlotte Reisser-Weston

Aimee Fisher

Kiera Riordan

Emma Fry

Mia Roe

Olivia Garrett

Senthur Shanmugarassa

Katya Green

Abi Smuts

Amie Greenhalgh

Alice Tait

Ridi Hossain

Mary Trehxrne

Esther Huntington-Whitely

Vibhuti Verma

Emma Ingledew

Abi Yee

Millie Jackson

Erin Zammitt

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