Modern America Loves A Cult
And I think I've figured out why.
Hi there! This is my first post since rebranding from Americauthentic to my new format: Something Happened To Art. It’s still about America. Clearly I just can’t help myself.
“Ok folks, the wait from this point is about an hour. Anyone behind –” *she gestures vaguely with a waving hand* “ – this point may not get in today.”
I’m not at Walt Disney World or the opening of a hip new restaurant. I’m walking by Silos Baking Co., a bakery owned by Chip and Joanna Gaines.
I’m surrounded by a crowd of near-identical women wearing Lululemon athleisure wear and clutching pastel Stanley Quenchers, complaining loudly to their husbands: “See?! I *TOLD* you we should have gotten here earlier!”
Most of the husbands look like they’d rather be anywhere else on Earth.
Maybe it’s because I’m British, maybe it’s just because I’m behind the times, but I have no idea who Joanna Gaines is. Her Instagram, where she has almost 14 million followers, tells me she is an “OG homebody” and a “shopkeeper at heart.”
In other words, it tells me nothing. In fact, she’s a reality TV star.
But, at Magnolia Market, a fenced off shopping and dining complex in Texas that takes up two fully city blocks, she might as well be the Second Coming.
Everywhere I turn, people are wearing hoodies and hats referencing the Silos, the Gaines family, or Magnolia. It’s not clear to me whether they’ve bought and donned them immediately or if this is a weekly pilgrimage for them.
The irony is not lost on me that I’m standing just 9 miles away from the site of the Waco siege, where David Koresh and his religious cult spearheaded an armed standoff against the U.S. Federal Government thirty years earlier.
And I find myself asking: “When did brands get so…culty?”
Later that day, I’m standing in an elevator with a group of old-timers having a spirited conversation. They’re heaping praise on *something* in terms once reserved for miracle drugs or religious experiences. The something in question?
HOKA shoes.
I try to shuffle to the back of the elevator, but it’s no use. They notice my own HOKAs. Then again, they’re not exactly understated, with bright orange soles and a matching streak down the side. I guess it was only a matter of time.
“Haven’t they just changed your life?! I’m walking more than I ever have before. I just can’t get over these things!” I loathe myself as I agree with them – I’ve been racking up the miles on this trip and my feet still feel great.
Might as well face it, I’m one of them now.
The trip in question is a 1,500 mile drive up and down Texas.
It’s my first time in the state and I’m seeing firsthand just how much Texans love their state, or the shape of it at the very least. I eat more Texas shaped waffles than I can count, see people wearing sunglasses in the shape of Texas, drink Balcones whiskey (Texas-made, of course) with Texas shaped ice cubes in it.
With 31% of residents showing at least some enthusiasm for seceding from the USA, it is very clear to me that Texans are proud to be from Texas. But, on the morning of St Patrick’s Day, a lot of them are proud to be something else as well.
Someone is loudly playing Irish bagpipes in the lobby of the hotel – the perfect accompaniment to a relaxing breakfast – and everything is green. And I mean EVERYTHING. This Hilton legit looks like Kermit The Frog threw up on it.
The River Walk in San Antonio is already heaving and it’s only 10am. I see as many shirts emblazoned with the Notre Dame Leprechaun – who was called college football’s fourth most offensive mascot in 2021, oops – as I do clothing that actually references Ireland.
No hate from me though, since I’m sure you can pick up Notre Dame merch cheap in Ross Dress For Less all the way down here in southern Texas.
Plenty of people are already drinking from huge goblets of beer dyed green – it’s 5 o’clock somewhere – and some of them are already wobbling. Colleen from Idaho and Eunice from Wyoming might not be built for this. I wonder how many people will fall into the San Antonio River, also dyed green (d’uh), before the day is over.
Sometimes I forget how young America is. It’s only existed as a country for 24 years longer than the property I’m currently renting in the UK.
With America being so young, it’s logical that people here look for tribes to belong to. More than 30 million in the US claim Irish heritage…around 6 times the current population of Ireland. The Irish diaspora is alive and well here.
And just as Americans love to identify themselves with a prefix, e.g. Irish American, they love to do it in other ways too. Through brands.
America has always had its fair share of cult brands – Apple, Harley Davidson, Starbucks – but something in the air has changed recently. The fanaticism around Dunkin’, HOKAs, Stanley Quenchers, even Taylor Swift, feels…different.
Liking a brand no longer seems to be enough; people need to live and breathe it.
Even if that means paying $20k p.a. to join the neighbourhood club in Disney’s upcoming Storyliving community. Brands define them in some way or, perhaps the reverse, the brand embodies some existing characteristic they feel they have.
But none of this really surprises me.
Politically, America has rarely felt as divided as it does today. “You’re either with us,” both sides seem to be saying, “or you’re against us.” Squint hard enough and the trailer for the upcoming Civil War movie looks like documentary footage.
In a country that is increasingly divided, it makes perfect sense that people are looking for things to bring them together. When you’re talking about your Dunkin’ order or where you bought that limited edition Stanley cup from, you can avoid getting into how you feel about Trump v. Harris…at least for a while.
In a way, I actually find it heartening that in the midst of all that division, rolling closer and closer to the 2024 election, people are still looking for things that can bring them together. So what if those things happen to be tumblers that may or may not contain lead, or a pair of TikTok endorsed leggings?
A few days later, early on a weekday morning, I return to Silos Baking Co. and pick up their signature cookie: a warm concoction of chocolate chips, peanut butter, and walnuts.
I unwrap it and take a big bite, expecting a transcendent experience.
It’s fine.
