It's Not You, It's "You"
I've had enough of 'you!'
Pronouns have had a nice refresh in recent years, for good reason. But one main pronoun that I am a bit over hearing about is ‘you.’ What’s so big about you? What about me? People yous — obviously fine. It’s a necessity to refer to others like “what are you lookin’ at?” or “What’s-a matter, you?” Useful. But the naming of objects and concepts and works as ‘you’ is where I lose the plot. Do you mean me when you say you or do you mean anyone that just isn’t you? It’s just overdone, frankly! The following Yous that have been top of my mind for no reason other than my mind is a repeat box that easily gloms onto nonsensical patterns and now you must too.
The show You
For a long time, I was perplexed as to why the cadence and tone of Joe Goldberg’s voiceover monologues sounded sooo xoxo Gossip Girl and then I remembered… oh, right. It took three seasons for me to realize why the show is called You, and I guess that’s a fine title for a dude who seems to develop a crush just *like that* on literally any woman who announces that she is literate around him. I suppose it’s easier to just call the object of your desire “you” when they switch up so damn frequently. More realistically, this is a show about a guy who keeps forgetting the names of his dates so he calls everyone “heyyyyy…you.” A true horror story.
Honestly, I think the show should be called Her. It just sounds more like what it is. Also, I think it’s funny to be like, “Are you watching Her?” Also, I’d much rather a spin-off series called Him than one called Me, were that to happen, which could be likely with the show’s success (although if you ask me, Dexter walked so You could run).
Plus, I see Penn Badgley around my — our — neighborhood all the time. Like, all the time. I feel like we should be on a brief nod-of-acknowledgment basis by now. But I am too shy to do the nod, to be honest. The most New Yorker thing about me perhaps is my staunch insistence for NOT recognizing or acknowledging celebrities in public in any which way.
Glossier You
I understand why this fragrance is so likable as much as I understand the instinct to be repulsed by it. It exists in an inoffensive genre of perfume that paints femininity with a maribou brush in a way that doesn’t really bother with ambitions beyond being uncomplicated and pretty. Which is fine, I guess! It’s soft and enveloping, the kind of fluffy comforting bouquet that goes down easily, managing to veer virgin step-sister Milf all at once. I imagine this is the perfume worn by fictional women characters often written as “beautiful but she doesn’t know it” (if she wears perfume at all). This perfume would for sure have a sugar daddy. And that’s not its fault — it just happens to come after a long line of hot girl scents that have crystallized the vacancy of effortless conventional beauty.
The namesake refers to how the scent adapts to the wearer’s skin chemistry, making it unique on each person. I personally do not know anyone who wears this so I can’t attest to that, but it’s an attractive concept. “Skin scents” are a thing now for those who wish to smell like perfume without the conceit of wearing perfume. OK. It’s very no-makeup makeup, an aesthetic that Glossier championed with great success, so of course, they would make a no-perfume perfume. It’s all the romance found between the cut scenes, the juice without the rind, the Stepford wife ideal.
That said, despite my perhaps uncharitable interpretation… I enjoy this scent. It feels like an affectionate scratch under the chin. It feels very good girl. It allows me to empty my mind and say “hey, it’s alright to take a break from constantly thinking about the fraught nature of consumption inherent in occupying the body of a woman in this current timeline.”
Also, “Oooh pink!”
“You” by DJ Regard, Troye Sivan, and Tate McRae
When I try to fall back, I fall back to you (yeah)
When I talk to my friends, I talk about you (yeah)
When the jealousy's strong, all I see is you, is you, is you, oh you (ooh)
Yeah, ooh (yeah)
No, I haven't moved on, but trust me, I've tried (yeah)
If I give you a call, don't hang up the line (yeah)
When the jealousy's strong, all I see is you, is you, is you, oh you
Wait, no I actually like this bop.
Sometimes, what does not kill you makes you want to dance. Experiencing a parallel emotion sung in a catchy hook to a danceable beat encourages the kind of catharsis that only physical movement does best — if it’s going to squat in my head rent-free, I will at least evict it from my body. Consider it a partial exorcism.
It’s a universal overthink to ruminate on people and events from your past even though it can feel so pointless and self-sabotaging. It’s a habit I’m actively trying to disrupt, as what good is all this mental and emotional runaround? We’re no longer living in the past! No more bitch-ass ass-bitchery! My ruminations have written entire scripts featuring alternate versions of myself who said the clever thing or did the healthy thing at the moment instead of the [redacted] I said and did instead. I get absorbed in imagined scenarios where I save myself from the pain I never could’ve anticipated at the time. Which is the whole point of rumination, I think. Your brain is trying to figure out how to save yourself from a similar threat in the future. So don’t feel too bad about obsessive intrusive thoughts — it’s your brain trying to protect you.
Maybe it helps to know that there’s someone out there overthinking you too. Or maybe it’s better to remind yourself that not everyone with a place in your heart deserves it.
You (2009)
There is also this film from 2009 that I have not seen and probably won’t, featuring a post-Smallville and perchance pre-NXIVM Allison Mack. It’s about a guy who falls in love with a woman and then gets married and has a daughter, but the wife dies and the husband hallucinates her telling him stuff and their daughter grows up to be Allison Mack, the end. This sounds like a This Is Us kind of vibe and I’m just not into being emotionally manipulated in that way. Look, I watched that guy’s other film Life Itself because Oscar Isaac was in it, and was I sad throughout the film? Yes. Did I consent to feel that? No.
I love an indulgent weep now and again but I do not need to be moved by cringe and then left to live with the knowledge that I am susceptible to its weepy woos. It’s not a flattering thing to know about oneself!
This probably shouldn’t even bear mention but honestly, I am simply surprised that there’s only one film with the name You out there. I would, however, love to spin the original Paula Cole motion picture soundtrack, which at this moment does not appear to be on Spotify.
I want to like Glossier You (the bf sure does!) but I don’t understand the “sparkly/creamy” tones people keep saying. I get the iris/pepper top notes, but then I get punched in the face repeatedly with the musk/ambrette/ambroxan for the rest of the day. As for topics, maybe something about hardcover coffee table books and feelings?