MUNDANE CLOTHING

In its latest editorial shoot, Mundane explores our dysfunctional relationship with technology and modernity.

What was supposed to broaden our horizons and stimulate our creativity has created a
bunch of depressed narcissists who can only interact with each other through their
phones.

Forget reality. All of our experiences, from sexual to social, are lived through a filtered,
expertly curated virtual reality.

Turns out we didn’t read the Terms of Service, and we all signed up for a cult. The
endless scroll has made us glassy eyed and mindless, ready to worship ourselves and
those we see as better than us.

Take a note from the indie blockbuster Midsommar—this beautifully captured
technicolor fairytale with its Idyllic backdrops and gorgeous flower crowns can’t last
forever. Shit’s about to hit the fan (we’re looking at you, Coachella girls).

We’ve turned our back on God, only to start worshipping those little black mirrors
permanently attached to our hand. Social media is our new church, where devoted
followers congregate to share photos of their asses.

Behold, children of Mundane, the new Gospel for the digital age:

1. Don’t read books.
That takes time. Post pictures of you “reading” the book, and then let a man
explain it to you.

2.Don’t go off the grid.
Emile Hirsch dies in that movie. Instead, rent a camper van. Get some friends
together. Pose provocatively in front of it. Enjoy the likes.

3. Don’t eat food. Use it as a fun accessory.
Instead of eating that spaghetti, consider putting it on your head. Less calories
for twice the attention.

To be honest, I think this Gospel’s much better. I’ve tried organized religion and it did
nothing for my self-esteem. I’ve also dated enough Jewish boys from Brooklyn to know
that Jesus will never love me as much as his mother.

So out with the old and in with the new. Say goodbye to the “virgin whore” dynamic. Say
hello to the “whore whore” dynamic. Afterall, who said nuns can’t be cam girls?

All hail the cult of social media. Here @ Mundane, we all drank the Kool-Aid ages ago
(and it kind of tasted like vodka).






So shut the fuck up and follow our gypsy caravan right off the cliff and straight to hell.

See you soon, XOXO.