I smell it

Not about that foul odor in the living room. Not about that now.

But rather I smell the yearning from someone. It doesn’t feel right, and I don’t know why. In conversation, by the words and their behavior, I immediately know. It’s as if their goals were copied from someone else—like the way I used to admire another girl in school and had told myself that I wanted to be like her in the 7th grade. I sense the desire that intensifies with every year. It starts with a bit envy and collapses into dangerous jealousy. But it curbs slightly, because he or she realizes that steps must be taken. So steps are taken, they are moved forward quickly, often without full knowledge. It’s lacking the true depth, because those steps were taken to achieve the goal. It doesn’t come with the usual path, the usual journey.

And I suppose that’s the definition of a poseur. And yet, perhaps the reason that I can smell one is because I smell it on myself.

And yet.

Today, I spoke to a designer who claimed to have more than 10 years of experience. But I was surprised by her lack of knowledge of the industry and the typical design philosophy. We don’t have to be all alike, but she behaved as if she already had the experience, already had the roles, but she didn’t, and it confused me.

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