Ep. 14: Did We Lose Our Filter?
EPISODE DESCRIPTION
In our “Off the Record” episode, we explored what is happening to us in a world where privacy seems to be non-existent.
This episode asks a different question:
How are we adapting to that reality?
From wealth flaunting and cosmetic procedures to social media, celebrities, influencers, and the strange pressure of living visibly, it feels like something has shifted culturally. We’ve spent years encouraging authenticity and self-expression—but have we crossed into something else entirely?
In this episode, we explore what happens to human behavior when life starts feeling public all the time, why performance seems to be everywhere, and whether what we’re experiencing is simply a reaction to a rapidly changing world.
And because there’s always room for dessert, we’ll take a surprisingly fun detour through The Devil Wears Prada 2 to talk about inflation, luxury, and why Miranda Priestly’s world doesn’t feel quite as far away as it once did.
TRANSCRIPT
A few episodes ago, we talked about how nothing is really off the record anymore. We focused on what technology, social media, and constant documentation have done to us as individuals. This week, I found myself thinking about that idea from a different angle. Yes, the world has changed around us, but how have we adapted to those changes? And based on what I’ve been seeing lately, I’m not entirely convinced we’ve figured it out.
It feels like we’re living in a world that none of us were really prepared for. A world where almost everything is visible, shareable, recordable, and permanent. Sometimes it seems like we’re all collectively trying to figure out how to exist in that environment while making up the rules as we go. The more I thought about it, the more I started noticing examples everywhere—from social media and wellness culture to the economy, luxury lifestyles, and even the way we talk about ourselves online.
From Authenticity to Performance
Part of this story begins with something genuinely positive. Over the last two decades, we’ve seen a major cultural shift toward authenticity. People have been encouraged to live openly, share their experiences, and be honest about parts of themselves that previous generations often felt pressured to hide. Representation improved, conversations broadened, and people who once felt invisible began seeing themselves reflected in media and culture.
For me personally, that mattered. I don’t know if I would have felt comfortable coming out in an earlier era. By the mid-to-late 2000s, campaigns promoting acceptance were becoming more common, representation on television was expanding, and there was a growing sense that authenticity was something to celebrate rather than suppress. That cultural shift made a real difference in my life and in the lives of countless others.
But somewhere along the way, authenticity stopped being just a personal value and became a public performance. That’s not inherently bad, but it does change the incentives. Once authenticity becomes visible, it becomes something that can be measured, rewarded, optimized, and monetized. Suddenly, it’s not just about being yourself—it’s about presenting yourself.
The Share-Everything Era
Social media accelerated that transformation. We now live in a world of day-in-the-life videos, get-ready-with-me content, personal updates, wellness journeys, relationship stories, and endless glimpses into people’s private lives. Sometimes I think back to when Twitter first became popular and remember older generations asking why anyone would care what someone had for lunch. Twenty years later, I occasionally find myself asking a similar question when I see yet another detailed breakdown of someone’s morning routine.
COVID likely pushed things even further. During periods of isolation, people were desperate for connection, attention, and community. The line between public and private life blurred in ways that might have seemed unusual before. Platforms built around intimacy and personal sharing exploded in popularity. Dating became more digital, personal experiences became content, and increasingly, our private lives became something that could be packaged and shared with an audience.
Politics followed a similar trajectory. Public discourse became more aggressive, more visible, and more performative. People became more comfortable broadcasting opinions, frustrations, and personal experiences. In many ways, we stopped treating public and private identities as separate things. Everything merged together.
The Optimization Economy
Once life becomes a performance, the next step is almost inevitable: optimization.
If people are watching, we start asking how to perform better. How do I get more followers? More engagement? More visibility? More influence? More money? The result is a culture where everything feels like it needs to be improved, refined, and maximized.
That mindset shows up everywhere. Health becomes optimization. Appearance becomes optimization. Productivity becomes optimization. Personal branding becomes optimization. Even things that were once private, like cosmetic procedures, have become far more public. To be clear, I’m not arguing that any of these things are inherently bad. In many cases, openness reduces stigma and helps people make informed decisions. The change is that these things are no longer simply personal choices—they’re often public ones.
One example that caught my attention recently involved Gwyneth Paltrow suggesting that arugula can serve as a substitute for dairy. The comment itself wasn’t really the point. What struck me was how naturally and confidently it was delivered, despite sounding completely detached from how most people experience food. It felt like a small but perfect example of how visible and performative wellness culture has become. Sometimes it seems like the goal is no longer simply to live well, but to demonstrate how well you’re living.
Wealth Wasn’t Always This Loud
The same dynamic shows up in the economy.
One of the strangest contradictions right now is that many people feel financially squeezed while displays of wealth seem more visible than ever. Consumer confidence has fallen, surveys show growing pessimism, and many Americans report cutting back on spending. At the same time, luxury culture feels impossible to avoid. Designer brands, exclusive events, luxury real estate, influencer lifestyles, and high-end experiences dominate social feeds and cultural conversations.
Florida is a fascinating example of this shift. For decades, Florida represented affordability, reinvention, retirement, and a lower cost of living. It attracted retirees, snowbirds, and people looking for a simpler lifestyle. More recently, parts of Florida—especially Miami—have become symbols of visible wealth. Billionaires, hedge fund executives, luxury developments, and social media-driven lifestyles have transformed certain areas into showcases for success.
Ironically, that transformation is making Florida less attractive to some of the very people who once moved there for affordability. Population growth has slowed, housing costs have risen, and many of the newcomers are arriving with significantly more wealth than previous waves of transplants. The state has become a powerful example of what happens when wealth shifts from something people quietly possess to something they actively display.
Part of this may be explained by what economists call a K-shaped economy. Some people are experiencing rising incomes, appreciating assets, and growing wealth. Others are facing higher costs, greater financial pressure, and less economic security. Both groups are living in the same economy, yet they’re having completely different experiences. One person sees packed restaurants, luxury condos, and prosperity. Another sees rising rent, expensive groceries, and constant financial stress. They’re both telling the truth—they’re simply living on different branches of the same economic reality.
Were We Meant to Live This Publicly?
The question I kept coming back to while researching all of this was whether humans were actually meant to live this publicly.
For most of history, there was a meaningful distinction between public life and private life. Embarrassing moments disappeared. Conversations stayed conversations. Mistakes faded with time. Most experiences weren’t documented, archived, and preserved indefinitely.
Today, nearly everything can be recorded. We have cameras in our pockets, security systems everywhere, social platforms designed around sharing, and digital archives that never really disappear. There are obvious benefits to that. Greater accountability, better security, and easier access to information are all valuable. But there are tradeoffs too.
I wonder if some people have adapted to this environment by simply giving up on privacy altogether. If everything might become public eventually, perhaps the response is to stop trying to separate public and private life. Instead of protecting privacy, people lean into visibility. Instead of hiding, they share more. Instead of filtering themselves, they assume the filter no longer matters.
When I think about some of the stranger behaviors we see online, I increasingly wonder if they’re less about intention and more about reaction. Humans have gone through a tremendous amount of technological and cultural change in a relatively short period of time. Social media, smartphones, permanent documentation, algorithmic attention, and now AI have fundamentally changed how we interact with the world. Maybe some of what we’re witnessing is simply a species trying to figure out how to function under entirely new conditions.
A Devil Wears Prada Time Capsule
One of the more amusing examples I came across while thinking about all of this involved an article comparing prices from The Devil Wears Prada to what those same items would cost today.
A Prada tote bag that cost around $1,400 in 2006 now costs more than $5,000. A Vogue magazine that once sold for under $4 now costs around $10. Designer clothing, luxury accessories, and even everyday items have become significantly more expensive over the last two decades.
The inflation numbers themselves were interesting, but what really struck me was what they represented. When The Devil Wears Prada came out, that world felt distant and aspirational. It was a fantasy that most people observed from afar. Today, versions of that same world appear in our social feeds every single day. Luxury culture no longer feels remote. It’s constantly visible, even for people who aren’t participating in it themselves.
The fantasy didn’t disappear. It became part of everyday life.
Adapting to the World We’ve Found Ourselves In
What’s funny is that this episode didn’t start as an episode about visibility at all. It started as an episode about the economy. Then it became an episode about wealth. Then it became an episode about performance. Eventually, it became an episode about human behavior.
Somewhere along the way, I realized the point wasn’t really about any one of those topics individually. It was about how we’re adapting to the world we’ve found ourselves in.
The answer probably isn’t to retreat from technology or stop innovating. Humanity has never been particularly good at moving backward, and there are plenty of benefits that have come from the openness and self-expression that define modern culture. At the same time, I wonder if the next phase of this adjustment involves becoming more intentional about what we choose to share, what we choose to value, and how much visibility we actually want in our lives.
Maybe we’ll start asking whether every thought needs to be posted, every purchase needs to be displayed, every opinion needs to become content, and every aspect of our lives benefits from being public. I don’t think we’re there yet, but I’m hopeful we’ll get there.
And if we do, I think it’s gonna be fine.
This transcript has been lightly edited for readability.
