[Intro music]
Hi everybody, and welcome to the Little Oracles podcast, an oracle for the everyday creative. I’m Allison Arth.
So it’s summertime here in the Pacific Northwest, and that’s a time of year typically associated with fun and frolic and all those wonderful, easy, breezy things. [chuckles] And I, myself, have been spending an exorbitant amount of time outside [chuckles]: I have a little back porch, and I like to take my leisure upon it [laughs] with my very old cats; you know, having coffee, editing the podcast, reading, writing, whatever — and lately, I’ve been, kind of, considering why I like to lounge and work al fresco, and why it gives me this flush of feel-good vibes, and in that consideration, I’ve been thinking a lot about how, over the last few years (and maybe you’ve noticed this, too) there’s been this pop-culture obsession with dopamine.
And maybe it’s because I’ve curated my social media spaces to consist of mostly fashion and interiors creators, because I just love those two disciplines and areas of expression, but I’ve seen so many posts predicated on the concepts of “dopamine dressing” and “dopamine decorating” that I just wanted to dedicate some thought to it, and to see if there’s a way to apply this, you know, admittedly loosey-goosey application of what is ultimately brain science to the work that I do, and maybe to the work that you all do, too.
So, you probably know this already, but I’m not a neuroscientist [laughs], so forgive me for being reductive, here, but in the simplest terms, dopamine is a chemical that transmits signals in our brains, and plays a really important role in the brain’s reward function — and her sister, serotonin, does similar work, too — but, at a really high level, dopamine affects mood and motivation, among other things, and it’s effectively the seat of bliss in the brain.
So a few years ago, in 2020, Dr. Dawnn Karen, a fashion psychologist, she coined the phrase “dopamine dressing” in her book Dress Your Best Life, which I haven’t read, but the basic idea centers on optimizing your mood by wearing something that generates joy for you. And, of course, where fashion walks, interiors are not far behind, so “dopamine decorating” found its way into the parlance shortly after that, and it follows the same principles — basically, it’s all about decorating your space with colors or textures or objects that make you happy; essentially surrounding yourself with dopamine-inducing stuff — stuff that, to borrow from the famed organization expert Marie Kondo, “sparks joy,” but in more of an alliterative, science-y way, I guess. [laughs]
And, you know, part of me wonders if that’s the theory behind these two movements, if we can call them that — kind of repackaging a more emotionally-sited concept like “sparking joy” with something that sounds more clinical and maybe even respectable in that apparent groundedness or factuality. Because, you know, to “spark joy” is to engage in something poetic, and metaphorical, and fanciful; it taps into this idea of suddenness, and creating something from nothing, you know, connoted by that truly lovely and exciting word “spark.” Whereas to manifest dopamine — to command an internal, embodied, chemical exchange — is visceral and measurable, and it carries this implication of proof, or reality; like, this imprimatur of observable truth. It’s like the sublime getting a Ph.D. in neurochemistry and suddenly people decide to take her seriously. [laughs]
But societal pressures and preconceptions aside, I want to note that both dopamine dressing and dopamine decorating, while sounding really dang science-y, they lean really heavily into whimsy and maximalism across the board: so we’re talkin’ punchy colors and bold patterns and eccentric silhouettes, all jumbled up together. I mean, just Google these terms or, better yet, pop them into Pinterest, and you’ll see what I mean; this whole aesthetic, as it’s being represented at the present moment, is really, really playful, and almost childlike in a way, because it effectively shakes off quote-unquote rules of dressing and decorating — things like staidness or seriousness or sameness, and by “sameness” I mean conformity within the discreet expression, so maintaining a certain predicated scope or scale within an outfit or a room. So, with dopamine dressing and decorating, you’ll see things like a person wearing satin opera gloves and strappy heels with a utility jumpsuit, or a living room that’s decked out in every color of the rainbow, loud prints, mixed woods and metals and various finishes. Ultimately, from what I can see, these approaches really thrive in the clash, and the juxtaposition, and the shattering of expectations around form, and this notion that restraint equals maturity and sophistication equals beauty equals the endgame of art, existence, and what have you.
And there are plenty of theories and think-pieces about why dopamine dressing and decorating in this particularly zany or jolie laide way is having a moment, and they largely revolve around the ways in which the pandemic shifted mindsets by virtue of shifting experiences of things like space, and time, and separation, specifically with regard to work and workspaces, which, as we know, went and are still largely virtual.
So there was this sudden disruption of normalcy, and this sudden cleaving together of what was once cloven [laughs], and so all the expectations around things like business hours, and productivity stats, and workplace wardrobes: yes, those were completely upended, and so folks started rethinking the assumption that context is codice — like, what are the parameters of dressing for a business meeting when all anyone can see is my collarbone up? What’s keeping me from experimenting with, like, bright, Bird of Paradise eye makeup, or from wearing a fun bandana, or styling my hair in some elaborate way when I’m taking a meeting from home? Why are we applying these outdated, and, you know, at that point, back in the early days of the pandemic, unfeasible social codes in an unprecedented, and really pretty dire, global situation? And, you know, what’s to keep me from extrapolating that kind of experimentation and that joyous expression to my other everyday tasks, like going to the grocery store, or meeting a friend for a walk in the park?
And, you know, naturally, there are going to be exceptions, and there are going to be ways for people to derive joy from their dress or their decor that don’t rely on these, like, over-the-top, outsize, almost circus-y approaches. You know, maybe I get a dopamine rush by wearing something super tailored and sleek in a really lush fabric, or by collecting all my brass bud vases together on a window sill. And maybe you’re not into fashion or decor at all (though maybe if you switch up your style, you might be? Who can say! [laughs]), and if you’re not, that’s totally okay, because all I’m saying is: there are a lot of ways to slice that pie of personal aesthetic joy.
I mean, when it all comes down to it, dopamine dressing and decorating are ultimately individualized meaning-making, so, basically, existential nihilism, veering into absurdism [laughs], and, you know what? Sure. Why not? [laughs] Because whatever the underlying causes of dopamine’s meteoric rise to stardom, it’s this overarching concept, you know, this umbrella, of dopamine, that intrigues me, at least insofar as it can be applied to creativity. Because that practice of finding and enacting something that blisses you out is pretty radical — and I mean that in, like, the ‘80s BMX biker way [laughs] and in the, you know, political way, too. Because it does feel a little bit radical — a little bit off-sides or off the beaten path — to say, “Hey, I’m doing this thing that makes me happy, and not only am I doing this thing that makes me happy, I’m doing it because it makes me happy.” Like, we can have form and function, right? [laughs] Like, we can invest in ourselves, right? Like, we can do things that set us up for wellness as we walk through the world, right? Because I would argue that we all deserve joy — or to put it in today’s terms: we all deserve dopamine — so I think it’s worth exploring what aesthetics or engagements or actions deliver those delicious little brain goodies unto you, because guess what: it isn’t just donning a funny hat or painting a wall hot pink that generates dopamine. Being creative does it, too.
So I’m formulating a little creative challenge, one that translates the dopamine directive from these other disciplines into something we all can dive into, in whatever way we engage with our creative brains — and if you’re sitting there saying, “Oh no, alas, for I am not creative,” well, have I got news for you: I’ll link my Hot Takes episode from Season One (episode 11, I think it was?) in the show notes, where I debunk that type of anti-creative narrative, so just trust me, this challenge is for you, too! So my suggestion is this: set aside 10 minutes. This could be 10 minutes a day; it could be 10 minutes a week; this could be, literally, like 10 minutes, period. Just set aside 10 minutes and do something that activates that creative part of your brain — that puzzle-solving, hand-crafting, story-making, experience-building, dopamine-generating part of your brain.
And this is gonna look different for different people, right? Maybe it’s 10 minutes of watching a movie that you love, or reading a cherished book (or maybe a new book!), or listening to your favorite podcast. Maybe it’s 10 minutes of embroidery, or tinkering with that old H.A.M. radio you’ve got in the basement, or playing with watercolors. Maybe it’s 10 minutes of drafting a poem, or drafting a plan for a woodshed. Maybe it’s 10 minutes of imagining a new organizing principle for your closet, or your kitchen, or your toolbox. Maybe it’s 10 minutes of sinking your hands into the dirt, and tilling and planting, or pruning the peonies. Maybe it’s 10 minutes of staring at trees, or tidepools, or stars. Whatever it is that lights you up; that takes you out of the rote, the routine, the rut that you’ve worn in your morning or evening or whenever it is; whatever it is that fires that frisson of bliss, that little dopamine jolt; just do it for 10 minutes. Give yourself the gift of joy, and deliver that dopamine, because you deserve it.
And that brings me to our August ABC theme, and our reading picks for the month — because did you know that reading can release dopamine, too? [laughs] We’re coming full circle on this episode! [laughs] So, for August, I was inspired by this idea of dopamine, because I wanted to curate my own reading theme and reading list that wasn’t quite as intense or heavy as the last few have been [laughs] — and I’m definitely a literary fiction fan, and I get really obsessed with writing that can be a bit extra in many ways [chuckles] — so in the interest of keeping it light-er, this month’s reading theme is a nice, big, broad one: I’m calling it Bliss This Mess [laughs] — look, I almost called it Live, Laugh, Loathe to, kind of, intimate the same idea, so, you know, don’t come for me. [laughs] But I’ve got two books for Bliss This Mess — uh, for your shelf or your eReader or your audiobook app, however you read; whatever you use —and those two books are A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers and Walk the Blue Fields by Claire Keegan, which is from our original January lineup that we’re meting out across the year.
And recall, if you will, that this is an Asynchronous Book Club — that’s what ABC stands for — so you can read what you want, when you want, or you can just use the theme to inspire your own reading list or listening list or watch list. And always, always check out content warnings before you read anything we discuss here on the pod, because reading should be safe and enjoyable experience. But lemme tell you a little bit about our picks for August.
So, A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers is the first book in the Monk and Robot series, and it’s been recommended to me not by one, but by two people whose taste I respect, and whose recommendations I very much trust: friend of the podcast and my friend IRL, Drew, who recommended this to me one day over lunch; and another good pal, Andrew Gillis, who actually recommended it on the podcast, in our inaugural Season Two episode — and if you haven’t listened to that Creative Chat, I’ll link it in the show notes; Andrew is just a joy and a genius and I love talking with them. So A Psalm for the Wild-Built is a post-climate disaster sci-fi story about a human and a robot who, after this chance encounter, have an adventure together [chuckles], which sounds like it might be a bit somber, but both of my buddies talked about how hopeful this book is, and so I’m definitely more inclined to pick it up, as someone whose experience with science fiction is pretty limited, really. So I’m really looking forward to this one.
And our second pick is, as I said, from our original set from the beginning of the year: Walk the Blue Fields by Claire Keegan, a short story collection. And I’ve already read this, but I’m definitely going to read it again, because Claire Keegan has this incredible way with imbuing the most spare language with so much emotional richness, and I can’t wait to experience that again. And it’s a great listen, too; I’ve listened to the audiobook, and I’ve read the physical book, too, and I can recommend both of them. And most of these stories skew on the sad, or at least the stark, side, so definitely read with that in mind, but, honestly, I think that to experience this book is to experience some kind of cosmic humanity, so, yeah [laughs], if that sounds like bliss to you like it does to me, definitely check it out.
And that’s it for today; thanks so much for listening, I’m so happy you’re here. If you like what we’ve got going on here at Little Oracles, share an episode with someone; leave us a rating or a review wherever you listen — I bet it’ll release some good dopamine feels when you do. It’ll definitely do that for me. [laughs] If you want more big book energy and creativity content, follow along (at) little oracles on Instagram, and check out the blog at little oracles dot com. And, as always, take care, keep creating, and stay divine.
[Outro music]
[Secret outtake]
[chuckles] Hi, Domino. Yes? [cat meows insistently] Really? Hi. [cat meows dejectedly] Oh my goodness. I know.