(HOST) We talk about social media in big numbers – 100 billion dollars
projected for Facebook’s IPO or how many millions of viewers an amateur
video receives. But commentator Helen Labun Jordan believes it’s also
time to think small.
(LABUN JORDAN) When I was in high school, my friend Abbey defined
elegance and good taste. She didn’t pick up the trendiest teenage fads,
she was a legitimate fashion maven for the ages. The Jackie O of Putney.
Abbey knew what Tiffany’s was. She even managed to find little silver
Tiffany pendants at a tremendous discount in the days before e-Bay and
presented them as gifts. She also gave me leaf shaped paper clips that
were deemed memorable but not too cute, subway tokens, and a pearl
colored address book, as a wish of good luck for one day becoming a
writer. Her own parents had once been artists living in New York City.
They introduced her to potato knishes, staples of a New York deli – we
ate these dense pastries alongside sesame noodles in her parents’
farmhouse, seated at a table made from a bowling alley floor. I was
enthralled.
Now, I was aware that what seemed deeply stylish in high school
might not hit 5th Avenue standards. Most things that were remarkable in
high school stopped being remarkable soon after graduation – the top
jocks went on to play pick up soccer on the weekends, the brainy kids
got into a decent college but didn’t stick around as professors.
And, predictably, Abbey and I lost touch over the years. Until this
winter, when she sent me a link to the Abbey Goes Design Scouting blog.
And there she was again – the same woman I’d known as a teenager,
writing from a chic New York City apartment, with gallery walls,
botanical prints and an argument for carpeted kitchens. Something I’d
considered lost in my past suddenly wasn’t.
Put another way, I’d found a blog to follow. I’m not the first – in
fact, about a third of Americans my age read blogs and research shows
that they’ve already become passé for younger readers. But those
millions of people weren’t me. I had no use for the blogosphere until I
recaptured a very specific voice from someone whose sensibilities I
learned to trust fifteen years ago.
Social media can reach huge audiences at no cost – think of the
YouTube video or accidental Tweet gone viral. At the same time, space
for individual connection remains. Abbey writes a beautiful, thoughtful
blog. It costs her time but not money, and even if it’s only read by a
handful of old friends, seems to me that’s still worth the investment.
Those sorts of economics are good for all of us. When it comes to
audience potential and copies sold, publishers know the memoirs of an
average Vermonter can’t compare to those of, say, a Bill Clinton. But
audience size is not the only way to value a narrative. Online, we all
have access to the world as our audience, but we also have the freedom
to content ourselves with writing just for the people who care most
about us. I vote for more of the second option – because, well, that’s
what I want to read.