Hey Meghan, Gwyneth, fashion police, drop the BS. Elevate this

It’s aspiration monetised. Scrambled eggs “elevated” with chilli oil, supplements to “elevate” health, jeans “elevated” by a belt. Why not try real contentment on for size, asks Angela Mollard

Meghan Markle, left, and Gwyneth Paltrow, right are doing a roaring trade in making elevation and aspiration bigbusiness. Pictures: Supplied

Can anyone tell me, what is the opposite of “elevate”? I ask because I am so damn sick of that word.

First it was just a dumb fashion concept commandeered by stylists when they wanted you to try a bit harder with your outfit or spend an outrageous amount on a handbag. But now we’re expected to “elevate” our whole lives.

Scrambled eggs are now “elevated” with chilli oil, your health can be “elevated” by supplements, jeans are “elevated” by a belt, and a scented candle “elevates” a bath. Well unless, like me, you drop the thing in it.

I’m not sure men are under such pressure to elevate their lives although my chap claims he has “dress” thongs and “everyday” thongs*.

It must be agonising for him trying to work out which occasion demands the smarter pair.

Meghan Markle elevates a trip to the vege patch. Picture: Supplied

Meanwhile, me and the rest of womankind are dementedly tying scarfs around the handle of our bags for no discernible reason, making salads that look like art, “tablescaping” and trying to work this season’s “cherry” into our wardrobe when, to my unelevated eye, it looks the same as last season’s burgundy.

Then along came the concept of “seven point dressing”, basically scoring your outfit on its credentials and accessorising/elevating it.

Gwyneth Paltrow with her infamous ‘This Smells Like My Vagina’ candle; a product which at the time of launch made global headlines and was an instant sellout.

Honestly, it’s enough to make you stick a fork in your eye, although the oh-so-earnest TikTok crowd might consider that an accessory too far.

Meghan Markle is the latest to harness the word, scattering it as liberally as her flower sprinkles in her new Netflix show, the name of which I can’t remember because I’ve been too busy making homemade candles for the guest room (this is a lie).

To be fair, Megs is not an OG elevator (the influencer version not the lift).

She’s simply treading – barefoot but elegantly pedicured – in the well-worn path of her mate Gwyneth Paltrow and Martha Stewart.

Paris Fashion Week elevates the humble jacket. Picture: Justin Shin/FilmMagic

The fact is, “elevate” is just a new word for “aspirational”.

I know this because for a time I worked in magazines where the whole raison d’etre was to make women feel like they needed to be better, slimmer and buy more things.

“Aspire” evolved to “inspire”, then “relatability” but then the advertising departments had a hissy fit because you can’t sell stuff with those concepts.

Hence we’ve gone full circle and ended up with “elevate”.

Well, I’m not buying it. Just as aspiration is so 2001, “elevate” is equally retrograde.

It’s a social media nonsense under the guise of empowering women when, in truth, it undermines them.

Because every time they buy gold earrings or an unnecessary collagen supplement or dried flowers to sprinkle on the shortbread they’ll never make, they’re believing they’re not good enough.

WHY NOT TRY … CONTENTMENT?

So I propose a new word.

It’s a lovely one.

Not something you have to strive for or spend money on, but one you can cultivate simply by being kind to yourself and others.

I want to start hearing the word contentment.

I’m going to make this my winter of contentment because it’s a far better metric of happiness than striving to make my life look more polished.

I realised I was seeking this shift when Netflix announced a remake of Little House on the Prairie.

Reese Witherspoon in a scene from the film Wild. Picture: Supplied

The thought of venturing to a cosy cabin in the pre-Trump American West, plaiting my daughters’ hair and boiling a kettle on an open fire seemed like a gentle antidote to the volatile, and performative world we are in.

I’m also re-reading Raynor Winn’s gorgeous memoir, The Salt Path, ahead of next month’s release of the movie, starring Jason Isaacs and Gillian Anderson.

It’s a beautiful book about a couple who begin walking the 1000km South West Coast Path in England after they unexpectedly find themselves homeless.

Raynor’s husband has been diagnosed with a terminal illness but the couple find contentment in nature and each other.

An “edgelander”, she’s on the fringe between ordinary life and nature.

As she writes: “Our hair was fried and falling out, our nails broken, clothes worn to a thread but we were alive. Not just breathing through the thirty thousand or so days between life and death, but knowing each minute as it passed, swirling around in an exploration of time.”

There’s a reason we’re drawn to these stories.

Cheryl Strayed’s memoir Wild, Jon Krakauer’s Into The Wild and Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, all capture that desire for contentment.

Or as D.H. Lawrence put it: “ … when we escape like squirrels turning in the cages of our personality and get into the forests again … cool, unlying life will rush in.”

There it is. “Cool, unlying life” is the opposite of “elevate”. This winter I intend to find fulfilment in what is, not what might be.

*Update: Apparently, the dress thongs are broken.

ANGE’S A-LIST

SCALPELS AND SCRUBS: It took me a couple of episodes to get into The Pitt (Binge), the new medical drama featuring Noah Wyle from ER, but it’s worth persevering. Taking place in real time, it chronicles a day in a fictional emergency department in Pittsburgh with all the conflict, heartbreak and humanity you’d expect when lives are at stake.

PERFECT PANTS: Imagine a tailored pant with the comfort of a tracksuit. That’s what I’ve just nabbed at Uniqlo, which is the most consistently brilliant store year in, year out. Their brushed jersey wide pants ($59.90) are sensational and a friend in England has flagged their collab with designer Anya Hindmarch as a winner. I checked and the range drops in late May.

Originally published as Hey Meghan, Gwyneth, fashion police, drop the BS. Elevate this