Confessions of a Compulsive Polaroid Addict

A little under a year ago, inspired by a myriad of aesthetically-pleasing Urban Outfitters ads and Tumblr posts, I asked for a Polaroid camera. My wish was granted, and since the day that I first held my navy blue Fuijfilm Instax Mini 8 Instant Camera, I’ve developed a ridiculous mini obsession with these tangible and tiny pictures.

I’m aware that this fanatic fixation, combined with my already existing collection of flower crowns, love for bands like Marina and the Diamonds and Two Door Cinema Club, and interest in independent coffee shops has made me a living manifestation of the taboo “hipster” cliché. I’m also inherently aware of the negative stigma surrounding this infamous “hipster” trend and well-versed in all the unenthusiastic definitions floating around on Urban Dictionary.

But this isn’t about hipsterdom and this generation’s never ending love/hate relationship with the term. This is about my Polaroids.

I bring my Polaroid camera with me to places wherever I anticipate a lot of photographic opportunities: Friday night parties, formal dances, backstage at shows when everyone’s in costumes. And I always end up taking pictures. Lots of them. To the point where my friends often ask, in a well-intentioned but slightly judgmental tone, “Do you have enough pictures?”

So why do I do it?* Why do I engage in this objectively archaic form whose only usage has been reduced to Internet pettiness? I mean, it seems the only people who own a Polaroid and use it as regularly as I do are those desperate for either an artsy Instagram or a neat Tumblr-inspired wallpaper for their room.

You may think it’s because I’m a clandestine narcissist with an utter hatred for iPhone selfies, who has thought long and hard about a replacement that still allows for complete self-obsession without being mainstream.

Or, you may give me the benefit of the doubt and assume it’s because I value the significance of having an actual, palpable manifestation of my memories instantly, in the moment it’s being created. Because there’s something special about actually being able to hold a moment in your hands, merely minutes after it’s occurred. Something unique. Something beautiful and precious that no one today will understand because our brains and souls have been fried and flipped by Apple’s latest invention, Mark Zuckerberg’s latest Facebook update, and the latest “trending” stupid social media app, created to “promote community,” that will undoubtedly just lead to more self-obsession. What has happened to our world? What has happened to society? Why must we all conform to the norm? Where is our individuality? What is our life?

Oh god.

I sound like such a hipster.

*I realized that due to my unexpected rant, I was unable to answer the question I posed earlier. The answer is simply that the flash on my iPhone is broken, and whenever I try to take a photo using it, the pictures come out dark and blurry. Hence, I use the Polaroid because those photos are the only ones that will show up in dark places like parties, dances, etc. But let’s pretend that my actual reason was the latter one I offered above.

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