Negative influence

A couple of weeks ago, Rob and I celebrated our 34^th wedding anniversary. Although jewelers would tell you that’s the Amber or Opal anniversary, my experience suggests it’s the Spoon Chocolate anniversary. I inhaled 3 delectable demitasse cups of the thick, warm, chocolatey magic over the course of our trip. Wedded bliss!

Spoon Chocolate - thicker than mousse,
thinner than pudding, warm and creamy.
SOOOO GOOD!!

I anticipate our anniversary trip to the Oregon Coast every year. It is always a quiet, relaxing, slow-paced deep breath punctuated by ocean sounds and footprinted walks on the beach. We pad around the hotel in slippers that I pretend look like shoes. We put puzzles together. We sip wine. We read. We eat well. We bask in the dumb luck of choosing to get married between Thanksgiving and Christmas when few people think to travel. It is an annual reset and respite that I have come to depend on.

The hotel we stay at caters to couples. Kids under 12 are not allowed, which is good because they would be utterly bored by the spa and Wine Hour and chatter about destination travel. The property is a lovely coastal hideaway that apparently is no longer much of a secret. It has won some recent awards that inspired a new niche of guests this year: Influencers. UGH.

The camera-ready 30-somethings were easy to spot. They were younger, they were foofed and coiffed, and they came toting cameras and light rings and photographers (usually a much less foofed and coiffed boyfriend or husband). They also were singularly focused on creating a moment while forgetting to actually experience it.

Influencer in the wild, a private moment contemplating
the parking lot in between sips of her morning coffee -- with
a camera capturing every sip and hair toss

It was bizarre and sad to watch these young women and their audiovisual valets set up photos to project an image of romance and connectedness. Sit here, turn there, put your wine glass near the Christmas tree, lean out of the way, now look wistfully at the beach. Casually walk in front of the Christmas tree. Toss your hair in the breeze; whoops, no, try that again. All the while completely oblivious or indifferent to the impact their curation might be having on other guests who actually wanted to sit by the Christmas tree with a glass of wine and watch the sunset without any proof of having done so.

On our anniversary itself, Rob and I had dinner in the casually elegant restaurant associated with the hotel. I dressed up a little, meaning I wore shoes instead of my slippers and put on some sparkly earrings.

As we were enjoying our amuse-bouches, an influencer made a grand entrance in a red velvet dress. Her hair was even foofier and her makeup was likely replicable via TikTok. She looked stunning. And camera ready.

Meanwhile, her husband was in jeans and a sweatshirt and looked like he had just woken up from a nap. They immediately reminded me of so many young couples I saw on my last visit to Las Vegas, where all the women got gussied up in sparkly dresses and tottering heels while the guys trailed them looking like slobby extras from the movie “The Hangover.”

The mismatch in dining attire was striking, but it was clear why she was all fancy and he was all schleppy: they were in their work clothes.

Yep, out came the camera with a long lens and clicking shuttery noises. Pose here, hand there, wistful glance, doe-eyed smile, raise a glass, pretend to clink, position the food, move the plate to get better lighting. The couple ate dinner but I’m not sure they really experienced it. They sure did document it, though.

The next day, Rob and I were sitting on our room’s balcony, stunned by the uncharacteristically gorgeous weather. As we listened to the crashing waves and watched vacationers stroll the wet sand, we heard a strange whirring motor above us. It almost sounded like a helicopter or a very proximate stink bug. Suddenly coming into very close view was a drone, its pilot seemingly on the floor above us a couple of rooms over.

I was a bit incredulous as I watched this buzzing chunk of intrusive technology hover just past our balcony, with a full view of us and what I had assumed was our private room. As the drone moved back and forth a bit, we identified its cameras and waved very enthusiastically, both to indicate we knew it was there and to perhaps ruin their shot. Yeah, snark meet snark.

The drone swooped up and down the beach and back and forth between the hotel and the ocean. It finally disappeared as I was contemplating whether it was more effective to inquire at the front desk about the wisdom of allowing guests to bring their drones, or to make some pointed comments on the After Stay survey which I knew was imminent. Having had a career in marketing research, I strategically opted for the management-driven survey.

Eager to see what all this photographing, posing, droning, and hard work would yield, I started following the hotel on social media. A week later, a highly produced video with lots of cuts and edits and camera angles and zooming was posted. Apparently the red velvet gal – who also inexplicably sported a white ski suit during our mid-50-degrees stay – has quite a following. She also was fawned over by the hotel’s management in some comments, huzzah to the drone. Fabulous.

Screenshot from the fancy video. Apparently the white ski
suit was so you could see her from the drone. Rob and I are
sadly not waving in her video. But if you zoom in, we do
look rather surprised by the goings on.

Watching the influencer’s travel video of our stay makes it look like she and her husband had an incredibly relaxing getaway, just the two of them. The picnic, the bonfire, the spa treatments, the gourmet dinner, the romantic kiss on the balcony. It looks so real and inviting and an absolutely perfect escape. And for us – who didn’t have a lightbox or a zoom lens or a wardrobe change (well, ok, the slipper shoes) – it was.

But for Em and Bryan, as viewed out of camera range, it was work and imagery and cultivation. It was putting on a show for the cameras and followers. It was creating a reality the way they wanted it to be, whether or not it was true or real. The Millennial couple might have had some relaxing moments sprinkled in. But I’d bet a spoon chocolate it was when the cameras and phones and drones were out of sight. If indeed they ever were.