Welcome to My Garage Sale of Thoughts and Emotions

In building this blog (I refuse to call it a newsletter—too much pressure), I’ve amassed a mountain of Substack subscriptions, bookmarked tabs, and random online rabbit holes. On binge-reading days, I end up with even more: new open tabs, fresh bookmarks, even more subscriptions. The cycle repeats until my brain is a foggy mess of other people’s smart ideas. I walk away feeling like I’ve thought about everything and nothing at once.

That sensation is what it’s like to live online in 2024. Every year, our ability to churn out content gets faster, our tactics sharper, our storytelling frameworks even more intricate. And there's no more boundary between “online” and “offline”—it's an endless stream. The last time I remember any real separation was back in college, when my phone was a brick and slamming my laptop shut for the weekend was actually an effective way to disconnect. Quaint, right?

Now, we’re all plugged in, functioning through this unending din. So what does that mean for brands trying to cut through the noise? How do you connect with people who barely have the bandwidth to absorb anything new? Spoiler: it’s not about creating more polished, hyper-curated perfection. In today’s chaos, brands are moving toward a messier, more vulnerable approach—one that’s surprisingly personal and chaotic, just like the digital world itself.

The New Language: MESSY

We are knee-deep in the era of 20-image meme carousels and winding, personal captions that verge on diary entries. We’re seeing reposted content spun and shared in an endless loop, embracing a kind of maximalist, patched-together communication that feels raw and refreshingly real. This isn’t just some aesthetic choice; it’s a reaction to our collective content fatigue, a full departure from the airbrushed, "Instagram-perfection" era of yore. Instead of aiming to please the eye, this new style seems to say, Welcome to my garage sale of thoughts and emotions. And it’s a style that’s resonating with audiences because it mirrors how many of us feel—overwhelmed, unfiltered, real.

Think of it as the digital version of a scrapbook—chaotic but meaningful, messy but loaded with depth. At first glance, it might come off as a little crass or even jarring. But in the same breath, it’s also sharp, relatable, and weirdly genuine. Accounts like Jonathan Van Ness’ capture this vibe perfectly. Their posts are a blend of humor, real-time reactions to current events, and unapologetic transparency about their journey, inviting followers into a space where vulnerability is as important as aesthetics.

This isn’t just about piling on jokes and memes—this style introduces an emotional resonance that’s deeply needed. A powerful example is poet/author Saeed Jones’ moving collage after the tragic execution of Marcellus Williams, where he layered his own words with historical photos and relevant headlines. Each snippet hit hard, and the fragmented style made the content feel raw and urgent. 

Whether through humor, empathy, or grief, brands that use this approach can reach beyond the surface, fostering connections that perfectly polished content just can’t achieve. It signals that the brand isn’t merely here to entertain or sell but to listen, engage, and, crucially, to care.

Kinwork Builds Community

Mandy Brown, a work coach with years of experience in the tech and media industries, highlights the kind of relational approach that we need today: kinwork. Traditionally used to describe the labor of building and sustaining kin relationships, kinwork emphasizes creating shared experiences, nurturing growth, and laying the foundation for lasting connection. In an online world where the old transactional mindset of social media falls flat, kinwork offers a way forward. Think of it as nurturing a community over the long term rather than expecting immediate returns.

Bennett Compost in Philadelphia is a prime example of kinwork in action. As a subscription service, they could easily keep their content to self-promotional posts, but instead, they invite their community into something bigger. They post memes about gardening and climate change with hilarious captions, like a recent one of Ina Garten about keeping to a plastic-free Halloween.

In another, they show a meme of a witch in a forest that carries the message, “Remember, you can disappear into the forest whenever you want. You’re an adult.” The caption then invites followers to join them in a weekly water cleanup with TTF Watershed, another local organization.

Following their brand doesn’t feel like a transaction. Rather than just showing up in our feeds to inform us of their services, their content opens up the doors to their community and ushers us toward a mission that’s much bigger than their brand. This is kinwork, and it makes Bennett feel like our partner in the broader effort to leave a lighter footprint on the earth.

A few other examples:

Secret Philadelphia hit the mark by resharing some top-tier Philly portal content, which captured the quirky, hyper-local charm that resonates with their audience.

Green Philly posted a stitched-together video highlighting Philly’s trash issues, layered with Nicole Kidman’s rambling line: “one minute it’s a comedy, next minute it’s an emotional journey, then it’s got a thriller aspect to it, but then it’s quite mystical.” It was a perfect, tongue-in-cheek summary of our collective frustration with our city’s misguided cleanup strategy.

And this week, Just Women’s Sports collaged a tweet from Inquirer reporter Jonathan Tannenwald. There’s so many layers to it—if you’re a fan of the USWNT, you know Rose’s vibe and this reported behavior of hers totally checks out. The post has nothing to do with soccer and that’s okay. It’s an insider-y nod to the team’s core community.

All of these examples capture the spirit of scrapbook-style maximalism. They’re also a reminder that if someone’s already out there saying something perfectly, there’s no need to reinvent the wheel—just repost and amplify. Sharing content this way fosters a sense of dialogue and community, letting voices resonate across spaces without losing their punchiness.

Pros, Cons, and Will it Last?

Brands embracing this scrappy style aren’t just following a trend—they’re adapting to an entirely new expectation from audiences. The pros are clear: this messy, reality-rooted content builds camaraderie and makes brands feel more grounded. It’s in sync with how people actually experience the world and makes the brand feel more like a participant in cultural conversations rather than just a seller.

But of course, it’s not all positive. Some argue that this style comes off as anti-intellectual or too informal. Brendon Holder’s Substack article, Have We Lost Our Minds?, dives into how the relentless barrage of meme-y news content numbs us to the event’s significance. It’s a valid point to consider: in the quest to stay relatable, there’s a risk of oversimplifying or diluting the messages that are most important. When we turn Trump’s offensive behavior into a jokey meme, we can lose sight of the fact that it’s horrible. If we lean on this style too much, it can leave our audiences feeling lost or, worse, apathetic and disconnected. Striking the right balance between humor, chaos, and meaning is essential, or we risk losing people in the noise.

So, is this unfiltered, maximalist approach worth the risks? And is it here to stay, or just another passing trend? Social media trends move at lightning speed, and we could very well grow weary of the endless loop of jokes and inside references. But the need for real connection isn’t going anywhere. 

Memes aside, a kinwork-oriented approach is less about following a fad and more about responding to the universal need for authenticity. Brands that lean into it, rather than retreating into polished perfection, will come across as human and worthy of our attention. This isn’t a strategy built to dominate; it’s an invitation to belong, building communities that last long after the memes fade.

(And yes, I got through this whole piece without a single Charli xcx reference tysm)

about aml

Hi, I’m Anne Marie (she/her), a designer and diy-er based in Philadelphia, PA. I work with businesses of all sizes to navigate the complexities of building a brand with limited resources. Find me on Instagram, LinkedIn, and reach me directly at annemarie@amlindemann.com.