idle gaze 043: a peak inside the confession booth.
on the internet, every regret is a content opportunity, and every secret is a good story.
Small beer + fries
3x large white wine
Speed
3 x large white wine
Ritalin
Skinny Bitch
Uber home
First 15 minutes of the Pirates of the Caribbean
Uber to booty call
Vodka grapefruit
Ketamine
1,5mg gbl (repeated hourly)
5 hour sex rampage
Sleep
The above is an example of a post from an Instagram handle titled “Regret Counter”, run by Alissa Bennett, a New York-based writer, zine maker and podcast host. The account, a self-proclaimed “museum of bad behaviour”, features user submitted inventories of a night’s consumption of alcohol, drugs and dirty deeds, typed up haphazardly in the Notes app or scrawled on the back of receipts or hotel stationary.
Here’s another example:
The inventories, even though simple lists of consumed goods, paint a rich picture of debauchery. You can practically smell the stale beer, touch the sticky tables and sense the dreaded, impending hangxiety ooze through the phone screen.
But in the comments section there is no sign of judgement or condemnation. Instead, it’s filled with unwavering admiration for the hedonistic excess. Posts are flooded with congratulatory praise for the imaginative juxtapositions of uppers, downers, imbibed concoctions, overindulged stimulants and ratchet decadences.
Digital confessions aren’t new. The 2000s had PostSecret, which invited people to send in postcards with their innermost secrets written on them, showcased to the world through the project’s website and printed books. In the noughties, Buzzfeed listicles and subreddits like “Am I the Asshole?” and “Today I Fucked Up” provided similar platforms.
But the air of shame and shock usually attached to anonymous confessions has now evolved into something more celebratory, entertaining and creative. The disapproving gasps have now been replaced with nods of approval and knowing smirks. This is after all the post-“that girl”, pro-goblin, indie sleaze feral girl summer era. A time when there’s increasing cultural cachet in drinking a toast to regretful vices, just as much as bragging about heavenly virtues.
In 2021, comedian Jordan Firstman launched a recurring bit on his Instagram Stories titled Secrets. The execution of the Secrets is simple: on any given night, Firstman will announce that he’s doing another round of the segment, inviting his followers to tell him their secrets--preferably the “deepest, darkest, and dirtiest” ones. Once the confessions have been made, Firstman showcases his favourite submissions anonymously, offering reactions and sarcastic snippets of advice. Sometimes, he remixes confessions into songs and slam poetry.
Firstman had discovered a new blueprint. He had found a way to alleviate the weight of shame by elevating disgraceful secrets into a type of comedy that relies on more positivity, more depth, more joy than what he had seen in the medium’s past.
As he remarked in an interview, “so many of the Secrets are sexual, and living with sexual shame is just not my bag. I just don’t believe in it… I was honored people understood I was not judging them, that they were free to say whatever to me.”
TikTok provides even more creative ways to announce difficult experiences to the world. Dazed recently reported on the rise of hyper-confessional “Get Ready With Me” videos, where creators combine gentle slices of mundane daily routine with confronting doses of personal trauma.
“Get ready with me and let’s talk about my fentanyl use,” begins one TikTok posted by model Mae Van Der Weide last month. The video, which has since been watched 4.5 million times, sees her candidly discuss her addiction, eating disorder and depression while dabbing spots of concealer on her face. Another, by user “maggieanne.n” features her make-up routine the morning of her granddad’s funeral.
With a societal pressure to keep up appearances and uphold a shiny personal veneer, divulging your hidden secrets can offer equal parts thrill and relief. In the Youtube series “Konbini Confessions”, rapper Miyachi and photographer Yuri Horie interview drunk strangers, who under the influence - bathed in the neon lights of nighttime Tokyo - appear more than willing to share their darkest truths.
In the videos, salarymen in Shibuya confess their innermost taboo thoughts, while Yakuza members in Ueno mumble admissions of criminal pasts, before being abruptly shushed by their brethren. It’s as if, along with their confessions, a weight has finally been removed from their shoulders.
Across the internet, these online confession booths have discovered a way to tackle the shameful, hidden and dark side of humanity with comedy, joy and acceptance. And when the boundaries between the public and private are more blurred than ever, every personal experience and feeling is fair game. Every regret is a content opportunity, and every secret, is after all, a good story, longing to be told to the world.