Authenticity

I’ll never understand the authenticity obsession.

When I walk into a restaurant or patisserie or chocolatier, here’s what I care about: is the food good or not.

That is the one thing. Everything else is irrelevant unless the staff actually attempts to set me on fire or similar. I just don’t care if the fucking waitress claims to be Joan of Arc. Is the food good? Ok, then, you’re Joan of Arc.

The same with music. Mad because Taylor Swift won’t tell you what “Bad Blood” is really about? Come on, get a life. Is the song good or not? Who cares what the song is really about. Enjoy it on its own terms.

Authenticity and obsessing over it just makes everything worse — especially since nearly nothing is as authentic as people wish.