Cottagecore: Escape Reality the Colonial Way
I know it’s a Level 4 lockdown, but sometimes it’s during these times that I wear some of my cutest outfits. It gives me something to look forward to in these times. Sad, I know, all dressed up with nowhere to go. But it got me interested in finding out what my style is. My aesthetic? My ideal lifestyle? That’s when I got to thinking about cottagecore. I found that it’s not only a way of looking but a lifestyle too. It contains activities and aesthetics that romanticise an agricultural life, that simple, humble farm aesthetic reminiscent of the English countryside. It harkens back to simpler times when our biggest worries were getting to the markets. Yes, a simpler time when our biggest threats to our sanity were interacting with chickens more than people instead of forced isolation. But this dream about exploring the connection to nature ignores indigenous cultures and their deep ties to the land that predates colonialism.
I’m sure you’ve seen some Instagram pics or even accounts featured around idyllic fields, woven baskets and floral prints. They’re all features of cottagecore. Don’t pretend like this is alien or niche either. I’ve seen the yeast restrictions in the baking aisle - I know y’all are getting greedy with the bread baking. There’s also more encouragement to go for walks (or spread your legs). Simply put, taking time in simple activities has brought a kind of peace of mind. As with many aesthetics, cottagecore seemed to first rear its floral head on Tumblr and gained even more popularity on TikTok. The pandemic made the movement take off even more since it seems centred around home and being at home. I mean, if we’re going to be at home, we might as well be cosy while doing it.
It seems that in a world where we feel boxed in, simple activities and nature can provide an idyllic escape or distraction from the slightly apocalyptic world we find ourselves in. So, as the lockdown gets longer and longer (at least for Auckland), the idea of running away into a forest and never coming back is becoming more and more appealing. In the first days of the Level 4 lockdown, Jenny Suo, a New Zealand reporter, went for a four-day tramp without internet and came back to find that New Zealand was in a Level 4 lockdown again. It’s kinda shitty, but at least she had four days of peace.
Yet despite the escapism behind it, cottagecore can only apply to a few. The “natural” life that cottagecore presents is very tame and not very diverse. Often the images and videos I’ve seen on Instagram and TikTok do not have people of colour (POC) and can be reminiscent of colonial times. Personally, I like cottagecore but participating in it makes me feel like if my ancestors saw me taking photos in front of a plantation house dressed like a milkmaid, they’d be rolling in their graves. Am I being whitewashed? Do I “fit” this aesthetic? But after a little bit of consideration and research to understand if I’m alone in this or not, living an agricultural life is not only for a European lifestyle. My own family came from a farming background. The lack of POC faces in cottagecore alienates minorities from a lifestyle they used to base their livelihood on. Even in New Zealand, agriculture and farming were a major part of Māori life and development before and during WWII. But they also moved out due to racist laws made by the Crown, which caused the dispossession of Māori land.
Sir Āpirana Ngata, a New Zealand politician, was an influential figure in Māori development. He was born in a small Gisborne town now called Te Araroa, his iwi being Ngāti Porou. He was one of the major driving forces behind rural Māori development, which intended to secure the welfare of Māori in a constantly changing world. Ngata was also the first New Zealander - this includes both Māori and Pākehā - to have two bachelor degrees. Ngata had a BA majoring in Politics and a Bachelor of Laws. To aid Māori development, Ngata searched for land on the East Coast that could be used for dairy farming. With Ngata’s efforts and aid from the Native Land Court, many Māori farmers could buy cows and build milking sheds. This led to the opening of the Ngāti Porou Dairy Company in 1925. The farm was very productive and, at one point, made around 460 tonnes of butter between 1931-32. However, the cotmpany didn’t survive WWII and closed down in 1954. But for a while, farming associated with Pākehā was a major part of Māori life. Even before Ngata’s initiatives, many Māori were sheep farmers. Ngata’s efforts were also replicated by others. For example, by Dame Whina Cooper in Northland (shoutout to my home region).
In a world where we’re running out of space, cottagecore promotes the idea of connecting to nature. Yet, not only is this just a fantasy (owning land in this economy? That’d be a miracle), but it ignores the many POC and indigenous peoples who are still trying to reclaim their land. It seems at times like a dream that ignores the harsh realities of farming life. It often glamorises farm life as an escape from the stresses of the city. That is probably why one of the recent trends among the rich in Silicon Valley was keeping chickens and using them as a “status symbol”. I wonder what they’d make of the Albany chicken wing statue, eh? The most expensive chicken of all.
In the end, the meaning of what is cosy can differ. I feel like chaotic cottagecore could be the next phase of pandemic life. Make a sourdough starter that you forget in the cupboard, learn how to sew swear words onto your pillow, make a flower crown for your flatmate, pet dog, or embroidered swear word pillow. Nothing says cosy like a daisy chain on top of a pillow that says “fuck my life” on it in cursive. Even though cottagecore has a certain “look” to it doesn’t mean we have to follow it. Kimonos with gorgeous flower borders, afros with flowers, sun-kissed melanin - I’ll stop before this turns into a spoken word poem. But the thing about images is that we can change what they look like and expand the idea of countryside living and add a bit more colour to it. Even though cottagecore represents an escape from our harsh realities, it ignores the stories of POC and indigenous peoples.