In the seventeenth episode of the fourth season of the sitcom Sex and The City, acclaimed actress Candice Bergen made her first appearance as the character Enid Frick, the Vogue editor of Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker).

Enid is not easy to get along with and criticizes Carrie frequently, but when the editor insinuates that Carrie does not know anything about shoes, the protagonist responds with a very witty phrase, half snobbish, half wise: “Men I may not know, but shoes… shoes I know!”

I remembered the scene this week when I went to a beauty salon. It was my turn there, but I had been following the social media of the place for some time and thought it served what I needed: trimming the ends of my hair.

Some context: I cannot remember a time when I actually enjoyed going to beauty salons. It probably has to do with the fact that, in general, I do not leave the place looking amazing, as with many women do. Why? I have no idea, but maybe it is because trendy cutting and finishing styles (straightening, drying with a diffuser, etc.) do not usually give good results on my hair. In the end, I always return to my good, old homemade way of doing things, and that is how I really like it.

In practice, this means that I have extensive and lengthy experience with my hair and have a good idea of what damages or improves its appearance. I am not a professional in the field, and I probably would not know how to give good advice about anyone’s hair. But when it comes to my locks, I am like Carrie Bradshaw to Enid: I know my hair.

So, when a hairdresser, after talking about himself for 20 minutes and not even touching my hair, starts listing a list of things I can or cannot do, I tend to perceive it as a bad start.There is no point in trying to cover up the fact that there is no hot water in the taps, with the false advice that warm water (not hot, just not cold) will be extremely harmful to me, because I will notice.

There is no point in swearing to me that your way of styling is unique, and in the end just clogging my head with styling cream, especially if it is a low-quality one. I might be going through a low-budget phase (who hasn’t?), but my nose still knows how to differentiate between a good cosmetic and an imitation. You see, the hairdresser was not bad, only too, let us say, pretentious.

After I got home, washed it, and styled my hai my way, I gotta admit I actually liked the cut. The only issue is having to play the whole “influencer game,” you know, having to accept something just because the person has tons of followers on social media. That is what happened with this professional. I mean, the social media of the place was on point, most posts had lots of likes and amazing reviews, and they never hinted that reality was any less glamorous (trust me, washing your head with super cold water is anything but glamorous).

When it comes to taste, contrary to what people say, there is a lot to discuss, debate and inform. Perhaps people would change their opinion about many products and services if they had the chance to use them, intead of only getting the opinion from the so-called influencers. A good way to value services and products is to learn about their costs of production in terms of work, skills involved, preparation time and execution.

The coolest experiences have always been the ones we live on our own, but I’ve noticed that we’re letting the algorithms of the platforms take over too much of this power, hardly ever stepping out of our bubbles where everything similar to our thoughts is right and everything different is wrong.

What bothers me most about algorithm culture is that it does not matter who you are or what you do: the important thing is to constantly brag about yourself, your achievements and your overwhelming qualities. How can we blame the hairdresser who would not stop talking about himself, if doctors, musicians, lawyers, students, travelers, in short, everyone is there, on the internet doing the same?

Following the manual exhaustively repeated in the thousand and one tutorials on how to sell anything and everything we turned all the “experiences” in our lives in sales pitches. We create empathy, we cite examples that prove our social validation, we primisse to solve the pain of our customer, we follow the journey of the hero… we read the whole script.

Maybe part of our collective anxiety comes from the feeling that we need to “close a sale” at all times, whatever that “sale” may be, from a cosmetic treatment, a service, a new relationship, a new single. This constant pressure to achieve a successful outcome in every situation can create a sense of unease and perpetual striving.

It is as if we are constantly on the lookout for potential opportunities to “seal the deal” in various aspects of our lives, whether it is through personal improvement, professional advancement, or social interactions. This mindset can lead to constant stress and the belief that we must always be in a state of negotiation with ourselves and others.

One potential solution to reduce the impact of algorithm culture on personal decision-making and self-worth is to prioritize self-awareness and mindfulness. By consciously reflecting on our values, goals, and genuine desires, we can make decisions based on internal authenticity rather than external pressures.

Cultivating a diverse range of offline experiences and real-world connections that are not governed by algorithmic recommendations also helps, for it allows fae-to-face interactions, unburdened by the constant pursuit of digital validatio.

By prioritizing genuine experiences over external validations, we reclaim our autonomy and self-worth, recognizing that true value lies in meaningful connections and personal fulfillment rather than in the metrics of algorithmic approval.

Advertising is good, but what really keeps customers is good merchandise, good stuff. And good suff, darling, good stuff I know.

Be seeing you!

G.F.