No Photos Please!

The Row's "no phone" show policy, Frog Club's embargo on bathroom selfies, and the silent art of mystery

via @brendahashtag on IG

The common sentiment among ambitious young people is that you have to use your phone to succeed: you have to get on TikTok, you have to post three times a day, and you have to keep up with trends. There is so much FOMO around not posting, not using the tools right in front of you, not ceasing the dream. That is — unless you are a nepotism baby born into a network. But even then, being offline is still the ultimate luxury that even the richest people in the world, like Kylie Jenner, don’t seem to afford.

On the flip side, from the seats in the audience, we are drawn to mystery. We like pictures of empty plates that suggest a fun loud dinner but don’t reveal the guests. We like messy sinks that make us imagine a party girl getting ready but don’t reveal where she’s off to. We adore celebrities who don’t have an IG and keep their whereabouts private, and get excited to catch a glimpse of their outfits via fan accounts. This type of artful mystery forces us to take a pause and remember what life used to be like before “phones ate first“ and pictures with faces got more likes on IG.

Maybe that’s why the news that The Row (the fashion brand designed by the Olsen twins) kindly asked their Paris Fashion Week show guests to put away their phones and take physical notes, was made out to be such a statement. If you have even the slightest interest in fashion — shows, shows, shows is all you see on your feed. It seems like on any given day, there is a fashion week somewhere. Few things are truly memorable because before anyone gets a chance to discuss and reflect on what they saw in one show, everyone has already moved on to photographing and posting about the next. Lots of pictures are taken but not much conversation takes place.

There are certainly speculations that the “no phone” policy was if not a preconceived way for The Row to assert dominance in the crowded fashion scene, then an accidental reveal of the overarching intention to exclude the general public from their brand. “The Row prohibiting the guests to take pictures to me is another way to cement their exclusivity factor as a brand,” one blogger said. “The presence of social media democratized fashion shows significantly, giving direct access to the audience, and allowing anyone worldwide to instantly see and form an option,” called out 1 Granary. And even the NYT fashion critic Vanessa Friedman fired a couple of frustrated tweets:

Yet, the prevalent response to the “no phone” policy was extremely positive:

• “It’s neither innovative nor elitist. It is more of a reflection of the designers’ own world, I think. They’ve always been private people and very vocal about their ‘offline lifestyle’, so it is only an element of the DNA of their brand,” —

  Nil Ertürk
  in response to the 1 Granary post.

• “The ‘elitist’ argument is a little redundant, it is inherently elitist, whether you let people -see- the clothes or not. Like a shop with a display window or not. It’s still inaccessible. Being able to view the products that you cannot afford is not democratizing or accessible, that is a huge stretch,” — @shahmiruk.

• “The circus created by celebrities and clicks if why fashion has lost its luster,” — @stefanidelao.

• “Talk about knowing your customer! The Row wearer READS,” — @newfashionmedia.

• “This is actually more interesting than a truckload of mid photos, and makes me excited about the designers. It also shows the value of good fashion journalism and creates a compelling reason to research further. I’m into it,” — @daniel_lamontjackson.

Oh and Gigi Hadid simply commented “Hot.” But seriously, I, myself, gravitate towards the fashion show guests who can help me make sense of the photos and clips with good commentary and articulate why some popular pieces make me feel nothing and others — have me in awe. And with the show in question, words is all anyone in attendance could really offer, and I must say, the creativity born out of scarcity of visual content made me giggle with joy.

One of my favorite fashion blogs STYLE NOT COM whose reporting style is mostly big bold letters on a signature blue background rather than photos and videos wrote: “So, right now, we are at The Row show and this time they banned all cameras not to make any videos or photos. Well, no problem for me, I can still report.” Hurs, a small publication celebrating women and their stories posted a show recap from the Net-a-Porter Market Director Libby Jane Page along with the cheeky “Insert image here” placeholders and a fully black silhouette where pictures of models in designers’ clothes go in their regular fashion recaps.

I couldn’t peel myself off The Row commentary and I even followed a couple of people I found through it. All this to say I was dreading reading about another recent “no phone” conversation that’s going on in the restaurant world prompted by Frog Club NYC — a brand new restaurant by Liz Johnson.

From what we know from the reviews of people who’ve dined at Frog Club, the place is located behind an unmarked door guarded by an out-of-place-looking guy in a top hat, you have to either be invited to dine or play the game of figuring out how to reserve a table, and most importantly — no photos inside are allowed, even bathroom selfies.

frogclubnyc

A post shared by @frogclubnyc

There were certainly people who were intrigued by the mystery and played along, putting pictures of Frog Club NYC camera stickers on their stories and recapping the dinner in writing and story time TikToks. It was fun to read well-written, cheeky commentary about the ambiance and interior, like the one from

Ella Quittner

here, but the overall consensus on the food so far seems to be along the lines of “it’s good! but was it worth the games and theatrics? idk!”

The “why” for the no photo policy at Frog Club is just as unclear as it is for The Row. Some speculate it’s Liz Johnson protecting her image and privacy after the Horses scandal last year, some argue it’s homage to the space that the restaurant took over from a historic speakeasy, and some write it off as a brand marketing gimmick engineered to drive interest from those who avoid dining in public, clout chasers, and press.

To me, secrecy here doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi as it does at The Row — maybe because I am not nearly as invested into food and hospitality as I am in fashion, or maybe because I watched a bunch of video recaps that simply listed the dished they had without a crumb of creativity. You’d think that with a similar wave of TikTok food bloggers that proclaim everything they eat is “so good” and the departure from the old-school restaurant criticism, the “no photo” policy at Front Club would also prompt passionate conversations about the current state of the industry. But alas, all it resulted in so far is people posting phone stickers on IG stories to flex getting in and bitter-ish comments on the restaurant’s IG— “y’all sound fun.”

In the world where strangers online share private moments unprompted, beg us to buy something or download their app, creating and maintaining some sort of mystery becomes very attractive. When everything and everyone is so online, it’s both natural to want a break from it all and fun to finally find something that makes you feel teased and intrigued. There is a reason why it’s much more exciting to see a rare picture of Kate Moss or the Olsens looking effortlessly cool on a fan account than to come across another picture of a Kardashian on your feed.

Yet, the mystery falls flat on its face when it starts to feel forced. When it’s used as a marketing tactic or is clearly finishing for impressions and press. This is the type of “mystery” that attracts all the wrong people and sends a negative signal to the rest. Because you either are cool or you aren’t. And if being mysterious isn’t an organic extension of how you work, live, and feel, don’t think people are stupid — they will see right through it.