Photo by Fujifilm North America
If you’re a regular on Instagram or TikTok, there’s no doubt you’ve been exposed to photography gear porn. It’s shot in perfect studio lighting, filled with clicky mechanical sounds that make your heart beat faster. The stars of the show are so beautiful it’s impossible to look away. You want more — and it’s always just a swipe away.
It usually begins pretty softcore. An innocent unboxing of a new camera. Maybe the sound of a shutter, just enough to get you hot under the collar. But it always evolves. Soon you’re lost in the seductive clicks of an aperture ring and the racy allure of the rangefinder niche.
“I want it,” you tell yourself. “In fact, I need it.”
Before you know it, it’s 3 a.m. and your seedy little secret is drowning you in shame. You can no longer look your current camera in the viewfinder, fearing the stench of your betrayal will give you away.
Looking isn’t enough anymore. You want (no, still need) the real thing. To touch it, hold it and make it your own. But such desires are expensive, especially when you crave the high-end models.
The right thing to do is shut down your phone, breathe deeply, and get some rest. But it’s already too late. The right thing feels wrong — and the wrong thing feels so right. You reach for your credit card. Your heart pounds. The anticipation is as much of a rush as the act itself. You hit “Buy Now”and in your mind there’s no turning back.
Days later, your parcel arrives. You slowly undress your new kit from its packaging, ready to hold it in its purest form. A bead of sweat runs down your forehead; you bite your bottom lip without realizing. It’s here. It’s now.
But the sound of the aperture ring isn’t quite as sexy as it was in the videos. The build quality isn’t what you expected. The thrill fades, leaving only regret. You look in the mirror, barely able to meet your own eyes. “What have I done?” you whisper.
Walking apologetically, you return to the shelf and pick up the camera you were ready to replace with something shinier. “I’m sorry, my love,” you say. In an act of commitment, you delete your search history and refresh your For You feed. Actual photographs and cute cats flood your senses again.
It’s Day One of purity. You vow never to succumb to the seductive allure of social media’s gear porn again.
Leaving the house, your trusted camera and lens in hand, you smell the fresh air, take in the landscape, raise your camera, and make the frame.
This is freedom.
More reading: Why I’m Still Using an 8-Year-Old Camera (You Should Too)
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