All I Really Want
On Alanis, 90s-kid nostalgia and the power of paper
Get this. Alanis Morissette’s 1995 album Jagged Little Pill turns turned thirty this week.
I was a kid when it came out, but as songs like “All I Really Want” and “Ironic” dominated Canadian radio stations and adults’ CD players for several years after, I remember gathering that there was something special about the songs. Of course, I knew this without really understanding them. But to listen today and comprehend Morissette’s songs so viscerally, having partaken in the female experience in the three decades since, makes for a doubly-satisfying internal digestion of them. Or just a fun shouty shower-dance, for which “You Learn” is my personal go-to.
Morissette broke through at a time when grunge and boy bands dominated the airwaves. Her voice, that of a woman expressing unapologetic rage, sarcasm and vulnerability was so new. Her sound was also new, an undeniably attractive blend of alt rock, post-grunge and folk.
It’s her lyrics that stick with you most though, like a diary entry composed with the intention of being discovered. Discovered by a specific person even. Amusingly, after years of speculation, the rawest of the album’s tracks, “You Outa Know” was semi-confirmed to be about Dave Coulier, the actor best known for his role as Joey on Full House.
A Place to Find a Common Ground
Given Morissette’s steering of the female musical voice into yet uncharted territory back in ‘95, what fascinates me most about Pill when I hear it today is who’s playing it. Because here’s the thing: it was in my Dad’s old Saab that I first heard the whole album on repeat. I don’t think my mom dislikes Alanis, but she’s just the kind of happy-go-lucky person that prefers Shania Twain.
More recently, I was reminded how much I love Morissette’s sometime-overlooked “You Learn”, with its chill-inducing octave jumps, when my husband selected an acoustic version of it from his own playlist on a roadtrip. Then, the other day, while dropping my kids at their grandparents’, I was impressed to find my father-in-law humming along to “Head Over Feet” alone in his study.
Unlike a fair few monumental feminist outputs in the past three decades, Pill has somehow topped the charts in terms of range of appeal. Why, I couldn't tell you. Perhaps it’s just a testament to Morissette’s musical talent, but I’d like to think there’s something more there. Though I don’t dare risk breaking the spell by asking. I’ll just keep singing along with them.
Let’s Talk About (Modern) Life for a While
Enough about me. Anyone in here been experiencing the deepest kind of pre-internet nostalgia? Musical, yes, though HAIM are holding up the side pretty well. But in other cultural spaces, I find my millennial heart aching for the tangible, the physical, the offline process— a lack of “slop”, as my friend Maya Singer calls the three-quarters crap Instagram’s algorithm feeds us at the moment (the conflicts, the craziness and the sound of pretences falling all around). I know there are cool people doing cool stuff on there —the opposite of slop— but it feels like the algorithm is trying to blind me to it.
What is the opposite of slop anyway?
Maybe it’s Coco Gauff’s manifesting letter she wrote to herself about winning the French Open, before winning the French Open. Then showing it to us after winning the French Open. Slopposite.
Or is it Louise Trotter’s first campaign at the helm of Bottega Veneta —and the way it’s being exposed to us in the rare absence of the brand having its own Instagram account. As far as advertising is concerned this, to me, is the opposite of slop. Concept too. The “Craft Is Our Language” campaign, a celebration of the brand’s 50-year legacy of Intrecciato (the iconic hand-woven leather weave), features hands touching hands, (touching me, touching youuuu!) along with a range of powerful gestures with human messages behind them. Bravo to Trotter, photographer Jack Davison and the whole cast, which includes Julianne Moore, Zadie Smith, and Lauren Hutton to name just a few.
You know what else is the opposite of slop? The British weekly Magazine The Week. I never miss an issue when I’m in the UK and wish it were easier to find here in Paris. It just gets the job done, pulling responsibly from a variety of news sources, left and right, and informing the reader while brushing aside fluff and bias in favour of insight and even humour. The “Wit & Wisdom” quotes section is a particular favourite.
If anti-slop is words on a page. We’ve gone slopposite in view of maintaining the rule of law in our household too, reckoning that the laws of a just society need to be made clearly known to all those expected to adhere to them. We even wrote the rules out together with the kids, and had them tape the commandments to the kitchen wall themselves. Stay tuned.
As I write there’s a five-minute sketch of my siblings and I done at a party glued to the wall in front of my desk. When I’m confused as to whether something I’m writing makes any sense, I lean around my computer and ask them. Of course, I could just text the real them in London and Toronto, but consulting their portraits gives a more fixed, official feel and means I can’t talk them into agreeing. It’s not “what do you think of this statement, Emma and Harry” but “what would Emma and/or Harry think of this?”
I also noticed these little vintage looking postcards on the table at classic French Brasserie Chez Savy the other night and it made me love the place even more. Great restaurant if you’re looking for something unpretentious near Avenue Montaigne.
So yeah. I’m a sucker for anything on paper these days (though do try and recycle!) I’m sure I’m not alone in this, its the homesickness of our epoch, we in our mid-thirties started somewhere —grew up in a place— we an never go back to.
Btw I’m not sh*tting on social media, which has of course democratised the fashion industry in ways that would have been unimaginable to the generations before, and done so much for me personally. But man, if I were one of those lucky 0.1% that didn’t have to make money for a living, I would still work, I’d just do way more of it offline.
I’d write far more articles for small independent print magazines for one. Maybe I’d try my hand at a one-act play. I’d write letters and postcards, maintaining far-flung epistolary relationships. I’d take up drawing again and doodle my reviews of the collections then collate them into some sort of scrapbook. I’d take up guitar again too, re-learn to sight read music, then I’d play my own acoustic interpretations of Alanis Morisette. To anyone who would listen, or just happily to myself.
This will never happen and I’m ok with it (get a grip Monica!) I have everything to be thankful for, and you know what, even if I were that person, I think I’d still write to you here.
Wishing you a slop-free weekend Monicuddlers. x
PS, if you’re in the Marais today, REUNI’s pop-up is definitely worth a visit. Who doesn’t need a mindfully-made forever cardigan? Slopposite!
We put some house rules on paper a couple of months ago too, though I love your list even more! With two boys, we had to expand the “no pipi” rule to cover all forms of gross behavior 😅
Paper forever, I feel exactly the same, of course technology has change our lives in so many positive ways but the nostalgia of paper, letters… I still send cards and letters and love getting them and I caved for the Louise Carmen forcing me to… write!