MILLENNIAL DIARY

AS a cross-generational act of solidarity and respect, and in the Christmas spirit of letting things go post “OK Boomer” and moving forward together, today’s diary celebrates 2019’s best in show from all* generations.

1

Greta Thunberg is the quintessence of Gen Z: old men hate her, she makes the rest of us feel nervous, we do not understand her, and she does not care what we think of her. Sure, the latter may be helped by her autism, which she calls her superpower — but it’s a feature of her peers across the spectrum. Unlike painfully self-conscious millennials, who have crafted entire personalities out of what gets the most likes on Instagram, Gen Zs DGAF.

Greta, with her cross face, sensible shoes and distaste for pleasantries, who cannot be swayed by celebrity or men in power, is the logical conclusion of the feminist movement that the boomers (admit it) kicked off. Greta is punk. Greta is Billie Eilish, she is Joan of Arc. Greta is a single-minded and incredibly knowledgeable product of the internet age. Greta is teen.

2

2019 will become a defining year in the personal mythology of Caroline Calloway, the ur-millennial. The blonde and beautiful 27-year-old New-Yorker with a degree in History of Art and a PhD in entitlement, posts almost constantly and fancies herself as the first-ever Instagram influencer and a pioneer of the form. She has legions of young(ish) female devotees, and a smaller but no less dedicated and vocal company of young(ish), female unbelievers.

I think I myself am in an abusive relationship with Caroline Calloway. I keep getting drawn in by her soothing nonsensical blathering, thinking it will be better this time, that’s she’s changed. But this year, Caroline led a masterclass in the very worst of late-millennialism. It had everything: scams, drugs, betrayal, death, art and toxic female friendships.

It kicked off in January with Caroline announcing a world tour of ‘creativity workshops’ for $165 — a number she plucked from the air the same night she had the idea. Hundreds of tickets were sold on the promise of handwritten letters, care packages, orchid crowns and a homemade lunch — before any kind of research or budgeting.

Obviously, it was a shambles: venues weren’t booked, people were asked to bring their own lunches the day before, and the other promises of letters and flower crowns soon followed suit. She polled her followers to see whether ticket holders for the tour in other US cities would want to fly to her in New York instead. The poll answer options she gave were both ‘yes’; she then congratulated herself on a unanimous decision. Caroline, obviously, went viral. The tour was cancelled. It was un-cancelled, with an added section of ‘resiliency’. She started selling ‘art’ that was direct copies of Matisse’s cut-outs.

It was typical millennial bulls**t: believing that, despite having no qualifications, what you have to say is worth $165 a pop; the belief that the way would be made clear for her, no matter how unrealistic the idea; the profound faith in her own specialness, like all of us; the blissful lack of self awareness co-existing peacefully with monetised self-consciousness.

Later in the year, she went viral as a charlatan once again, when her estranged former friend and ghost writer Natalie Beach published a devastatingly detailed account of their relationship and its breakdown — she claimed to have written much of Caroline’s early output. Caroline became a borderline-abusive villain and fraud overnight. Tens of thousands of damning words were written in think pieces across the world within 48 hours — and then, her father died. Caroline was photographed and interviewed as scheduled a couple of hours after getting the news, she posted obsessively on Instagram, old photographs and screenshots, nudes.

Now she has more people than ever absolutely obsessed with her, and her inspiring audacity. She set up a system whereby followers could pay $2 a month to gain access to her ‘close friends’ list on Instagram where she posts extra stories as she goes about her day. Caroline Calloway is the millennial saviour we don’t need or want — but we are all a little bit Caroline, and that’s our problem.

3

Gen X’s mascot this year was Jennifer Aniston, who broke the world record when she joined Instagram this year, with the fastest account to reach 1m followers. Her first post was a group selfie with the old cast and a ‘Friends’ pun. But that’s just pure Gen X isn’t it? They think they’re great.

4

Boomer of the Year

2019 goes to Andy King, who set a shining example for boomers everywhere on how to adapt in this brave new world they are so unwilling to recognise. King was an event producer for doomed Fyre Festival, which was the subject of two rival documentaries last year. Looking back at these stories from a distance you find a distilled kernel of cultural truth, the trivia that will go down in history: and for Fyre Festival it was The Bl*wjob. At first the documentary battleground was filled with distractions like racist exploitation of workers in the Bahamas, but nearly a year later we have forgotten all of it — except for one thing. I am, of course, referring to the theoretical sex act that 57-year-old Andy King was willing to give a customs official in exchange for the release of four trucks filled with Fyre Festival’s water supply —at the request of festival founder and rabid millennial Billy McFarland.

The surreal story, the deadpan delivery: it was a TV moment made in internet-heaven. He went viral. He became a meme. Everyone was mortified.

But Andy hadn’t been caught in a moment of weakness by a lucky interviewer. It has transpired that, despite having had no social media presence at all and thinking that meme was pronounced ‘me-me’, he knew that his bombshell would go viral and give him a platform. He had a clause written into his contract with Netflix to help pay the Bahamian workforce, which he says was his motivation for taking part — his crowdfunding to pay back everyone in the Bahamas was successful as he surfed the wave of viral fame.

Andy King leaned in, and became a folk hero. He now runs a zero-waste events company. Boomers, this is how you take on millennials and the internet age and win: sex acts, a social conscience and LOLs. Isn’t it nice when we all get along?

*Not all. But fortunately, the Silent Generation are unlikely to angrily DM me on Instagram about their lack of representation. Sorry, Silent Generation.