“Enya: A Treatise on Unguilty Pleasures” – review and reflection

It's been almost 9 months now, since the virus has turned the world upside down. Time, in which Chilly Gonzales birthed a song with Gary Barlow called "Oh What a Day" (alongside Barry Manilow on the same album), recorded a Christmas album and wrote a book about Enya. Some people would call every single element of each "bad taste" initially. Why? Because what we wear, like and listen to is a form of social demarcation. Take the typical hipster as an example: "somebody trying too hard to be different by rejecting anything that is deemed popular. […] hipsters aren’t actually different at all, they’re just people that are snobbier and more annoying about their taste in 'alternative' things, which are all popular now thanks to the other hipsters." (Urban Dictionary) The hipster is the extreme representation of a trap we fall prey to in different forms when we transition from innocent, uninfluenced children to beings who have learned about effect, reaction and manipulation. In an attempt to be cool, more distinct and outclass others, we deny things we actually love, and intellectually adopt what we think we should like. We foster those well-groomed pets in the rational chamber of our brains and cage the wild spirits that once lived in our souls and nurtured our emotions in the forbidden "guilt box". The book is a plea to rerelease our authentic, pre-adolescent, guilt-free selves – or rather that's the afflatus I draw from it.