The Connector
The Connector

By Anastasia Carrow. Anastasia Carrow earned her BFA in Writing from SCAD in 2022. She’s currently querying her first novel, a new adult academic rivalry romance—inarguably the best trope.

This article was submitted by a contributing writer. To have an article published with The Connector, email editor@scadconnector.com.

No matter the social platform, a quick scroll through the millions of posts marked with the hashtag “cottagecore” will result in a very cohesive brand of content. The hashtag has accrued nearly 10 billion views on TikTok, where you’ll find short, cute videos of influencers decked out in elf ears, prancing among wildflowers in vaguely Victorian- or Regency-era flowing dresses, usually cupping baby ducklings or rolling out some homemade bread dough.

On Instagram, there are over 3 million posts filed under #cottagecore, toadstools and dangling wisteria and crochet cardigans galore. On Tumblr, where the hashtag was originally coined, you’ll be presented with meadows, wildlife, and nods to periods past — notably, a romanticized, English countryside version of a time when we were all allowed to slow down a little.

Cottagecore is an idyll, a fantasy, and people are clinging to it—but why? What is so alluring to us about escapism?

@camillecorlouer on Instagram

Cottagecore and Corona

It’s important to note the correlation between the rise of cottagecore idealism and the 2020 coronavirus pandemic. While the aesthetic gained its name in 2018, the activity of cottagecore content online spiked as cases did. In March to April of 2020 alone, cottagecore posts on Tumblr jumped 541 percent in likes. Confinement to our homes sparked sudden interest in sourdough starters, home improvement projects, YouTube knitting tutorials, or the simple act of going outside and breathing fresh air on a more regular basis.

“Our brains are overloaded with information on a daily basis,” said Meredith Hrebenak, a Canton-based licensed professional counselor. “I can totally see the appeal of cottagecore—of a lifestyle that takes us back to our roots — and why the pursuit of it can feel freeing.”

It took the world ending for many of us to stop, take stock, and confront our tendency to view rest as an annoying necessity rather than as a priority.

Graphic by Cait Jayme.

Enter the dreamy world of cottagecore, where gardens are a breeze to maintain, farm-to-table is a way of life rather than a catchphrase on a menu, and no one works. The 2005 “Pride & Prejudice” film score is on a constant loop.

All in all, a much more enticing alternative to a revolving door of Zoom calls, a cursor clicking away at a glaring screen.

Social Media Presence vs. Being Present

“Cottagecore is how I wish I could live,” Abigail Bryant, a follower of the trend, said. “Like, eventually, I hope my life looks like that.”

But, as a 22-year-old college student, she admits that cottagecore is an impossible reality — at least at the moment.

While quitting our jobs, shucking responsibility, and running away to live on a small farm in the Scottish Highlands isn’t something many of us can realistically manage, there are a spare few out there living the dream.

Katie Calautti, a farmsitter and writer who lives in a 200-year-old cottage in rural New Jersey, claims that she basically is an L.M. Montgomery character, just with “platinum-dyed hair and tattoos.”

On Instagram, she could be labeled as a cottagecore influencer, with a feed chockfull of blooming wildflowers, baby lambs, and golden snapshots of autumn forests. But this cottagecore aesthetic runs far deeper than a social media feed to her — this way of life calls on her to truly live in it, and authentically.

@li_diana on Instagram

“There are several influencers I followed in my early days who I’ve had to unfollow as they’ve leaned harder into shilling $500 dresses and expensive art prints and photo presets,” she said. “I understand that people need to make a living, but that side of the cottagecore coin is just not for me — I’m much more interested in people who are interacting with the natural world in interesting ways or sharing their non-commercial creative pursuits.”

Calautti’s transition into a simplified, natural life in the country was gradual, and it stemmed from similar reasons the masses are fascinated by the representation of the aesthetic online. She’d lived in New York City for 15 years, but then she began struggling with depression and anxiety, no longer fulfilled by city life.

“I think, especially since the pandemic, people have been leaning into slower living, with time in nature being more accessible and necessary than ever,” Calautti said. “Our world is very fraught right now, and cottagecore can be a welcome respite.”

And this is perhaps what’s so alluring about the cottagecore fantasy — the fact that it is a fantasy. Amanda Brennan, one of Tumblr’s trend experts, told Vox that the most common responses to cottagecore content on the site are “wistful” and “longing.”

In the end, it’s hard to differentiate whether users want to actually commit to a country lifestyle, or if they simply want to live in the rose-tinted photo on their phone.

A Healthier Perspective on Self-Reliance

Cottagecore breathes new meaning into the idea of “making your own way.” No longer does that imply climbing the corporate ladder or the dreaded drudgery of networking. In the cottagecore world, self-sustainability is built upon a foundation of practical, traditional skills — and many of the associated practices are great for the environment.

The trend of the cottagecore garden — essentially letting nature do its thing — can help increase biodiversity in our suburbs, and our dwindling bee population much prefers a wild, flowering lawn as opposed to one that looks cut from a golf course. Cottagecore and slow fashion go hand-in-hand, with many followers of the movement taking strides to make their own clothes, or at least shop more sustainablyHome cooking and baking are also heavily associated with cottagecore, which are arguably healthier and more sustainable options than ordering plastic boxes of fast food through DoorDash. Some even take it as far as foraging for their own ingredients.

@niinavisakivi on Instagram

“From my perspective,” Hrebenak added, “this idea of a cottagecore lifestyle seems to revolve around values of self-care.”

And yet, many of us will look at that list and think, “It’s nice in theory, but I don’t have time to do all of that.”

Maybe we’re wrong.

Doing the Work

This isn’t to say that a slow, country lifestyle is in the cards for everyone, but according to the American Psychological Association, our brains greatly benefit from a connection with our natural surroundings. Spending time in nature — urban nature, such as a walk through your city’s park, absolutely counts — has been studied to ease feelings of loneliness and help us care for the earth on a more personal level. There’s even a consistent association between time spent in nature and higher levels of general happiness.

In Atlanta alone, there are plenty of pockets of nature to waltz through, frilly dress or not, but if you’re looking for something a little more hands-on, you can supplement the missing cottagecore in your life by volunteering at any number of the urban farms in the city, like Urban Sprout Farms, or the Metro Atlanta Urban Farm in College Park.

“We encourage nature, we don’t command it,” insisted Farmer Jeff, as he prefers to be called, who oversees operations at the Souper Farm in Atlanta — a one-acre urban farm that’s linked with the city’s line of Souper Jenny cafés. The Souper Farm welcomes volunteers on the first Saturday of every month, where Farmer Jeff explains to them the concept of cover crops (rye is a popular choice), the secret to healthy soil (worms and wood chips), and his defense for an un-mowed lawn (bees).

Working on a farm — even for only a few hours, once a month — could potentially burst the cottagecore idealist’s bubble, what with the backaches and grime and long hours in the heat, but the rewards of the work can also help clear our heads. Plucking a ripe strawberry from the ground and eating honeysuckles straight off the bush are practically acts of nostalgia, transporting us to a reality in which soil and water and sun are the only ingredients for a happy life.

For most of us, that life — a cottagecore life, a farmer’s life, a slow life — isn’t even close to our everyday reality, but if we look for it, it can be, if only for brief pauses at a time.

As one of Souper Jenny’s employees put it, “Sometimes, you just need to touch dirt.”