Must We Romanticize Everything?

Scroll on social media for five minutes, and you’ll probably run into it: a perfectly framed video of someone pouring the perfect green matcha into a glass, sunlight streaming through their window, with the caption, “Romanticizing my life.” It’s one of those phrases that’s managed to slip from a niche corner of the internet into mainstream culture. And honestly, most of us have run with it.

Sydney Carlson via Instagram ©

The whole idea is simple: pretend your everyday life is a movie and you’re the main character. Walking to class or work becomes a cinematic montage you play in your head. Doing dishes turns into a moment of quiet domestic bliss. Studying for an exam feels a little less miserable if you have the perfect coffee, cozy yet stylish outfit, and a scenic view.

Life can feel overwhelming, and the last few years have taken a toll on everyone. For many Gen Zers, growing up in chaos has made romanticizing the little things feel like hitting pause. It gives us a way to feel optimistic and excited in a world where we can’t catch a break from the impossible job market, weird dating scene, and concerning world events. It forces us to notice details we’d normally skip over: the crunch of fall leaves under our shoes, the smell of fresh laundry, the warmth of peppermint tea in our hands.

It's also a method to boost self-motivation. Turning chores into an “aesthetic moment” can make us actually get up and knock them out. Cleaning your room? It’s not just cleaning — it’s curating your safe space. Waking up early to make breakfast? It’s not boring — it’s a self-care ritual. Framing ordinary tasks as something beautiful can be the difference between procrastination and productivity.

For a lot of people, romanticization is also a way to practice gratitude. Instead of waiting for big milestones like graduations, promotions, and vacations, you start appreciating tiny, everyday wins. Yet when we think critically about why this resonates so strongly with Gen Z, it becomes clear it can also serve as a coping mechanism. And like any coping mechanism, it has a flip side.

Social media didn’t invent romanticization; it simply made it “trendy” — and, at times, performative. When creators share their curated “perfect” morning routines or cozy, candlelit nights, it’s difficult not to compare. Suddenly your reality — fizzy hair, mismatched mugs, fluorescent lighting — doesn’t feel good enough. They say comparison is the thief of joy, and social media took that and ran with it.

More than that, the need to romanticize can turn into a contest. Every moment has to be turned into something aesthetic; you’re losing out on the chance to be the inconspicuous main character (I mean, who knows who may be observing you) if you spend even one moment being messy, sad, or angry. It can easily become another way of avoiding your own emotions. Instead of admitting we’re struggling, we slap a filter on it and pretend everything’s fine. While it might work occasionally, it keeps us from processing our feelings and, dare I say, being ourselves.

Then there’s consumerism. A lot of romanticization online is materialistic — having the “right” candles, the “right” notebooks, the “right” outfit that makes people think you’re effortless. It’s easy to convince yourself you need to buy your way into the aesthetic. That’s where romanticization shifts; it stops being about appreciating what you have and starts being about chasing what you don’t.

It’s worth asking: is romanticism healthy? On one hand, if it helps you get through tasks you don’t enjoy, that’s a win. Not everything has to be a grind. On the other, if romanticizing becomes the only way you can do tedious tasks, it might be worrisome. Why must you perform to do difficult things, and are you truly unable to do them otherwise?

Romanticizing life doesn’t have to be all good or all bad; it’s a tool. And like any tool, its helpfulness depends on how you use it. Appreciating the little things? Great. Using it as motivation to get things done? Also great. But constant comparison, toxic positivity, or purchasing your way into having “main character” energy? Not so much.

The truth is, your life doesn’t have to look like a video on social media to be beautiful. The chipped mugs, messy closets, and bad days are just as real as the golden-hour walks and latte art. Sometimes the most romantic thing you can do is live your life exactly as it is — without the filter, without the performance, without worrying if it’s romanticized enough.

Because more often than not, it already is.