Edition 4: Connection

MIND CAFE EDITION 4 - CONNECTION

ON BEING PRESENT

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Welcome MAGAZINE DIRECTOR: EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: CO-EDITOR: DESIGN: PHOTOGRAPHY: FOUNDER:

CONTRIBUTORS

Adrian Drew Gemma Steele Adrian Drew Lee Caple Joseph Marchant Adrian Drew

Essie Dennis, Rosie Viva, Spencer Elmer, Ed Cunningham, Adrian Drew, Adam Lind, Gemma Steele, Ellis Lawrie, Mathilda Homer, Moya Palk, Wilderness Festival

PHOTOGRAPHY COVER: MAGAZINE:

Joseph Marchant Joseph Marchant, Sean Newton, Mathilde Langevin, Anya Haldstock, Colin Dack

Humans are social creatures. I’m sure you’ve heard different iterations of that statement on a thousand separate occasions, and there’s a good reason for that. It’s true. We’ve all felt that sense of elation and fulfilment following a sincere and open conversation with a loved one, or even a stranger. There’s something quite magical about forming genuine connections with others - this rush of hormonal ecstasy that has the power to inspire us and propel us to new heights. Whether in romance, friendship or family, the sheer influence that human connection can have on each and every one of us is quite astounding.

In recent years, connection is something that many of us are only now waking up to the importance of. Following a global pandemic and subsequent lockdowns, many of us have been deprived even of the ability to hug those we care most deeply about. And that’s a terrible shame. Of course, the reasons behind said restrictions are justified, but being torn apart from our loved ones has been an enormous challenge in and of itself - even without a rampant virus to contend with. Today, many of us are forever grateful to be granted back those freedoms previously taken, and now, more than ever, is a crucial time for us to celebrate the true magic of human connection.

Alone, we humans are quite special animals. Even in solitude we’ve invented some quite remarkable things, from the lightbulb to the general theory of relativity. United, however, our ability to achieve is almost infinite. Whether it’s space travel, feeding the homeless, protesting for change, creating music or any other facet of ingenuity, we individual humans have the power to build and achieve so much as one. And that’s incredible. It’s certainly worth shouting about.

Many people have strong opinions when it comes to connection. Some demonise the online world for taking it from us, others praise it for enabling us to converse when physical communication isn’t possible.

Some may see connection more as an introspective, spiritual journey, others see it as a pursuit that’s only possible as a community. In this beautiful collection of stories, we explore what connection means to people from all walks of life - whether musicians, film-makers, jewellery makers, presenters, podcasters, models and everything in-between.

What follows this short introduction is perhaps the most impressive edition of Mind Cafe Magazine thus far. In it, you’ll learn more about how you can find deeper and more meaningful connections in your own life, whether in friendship, love, business or anywhere else.

So, without further ado, I think it’s time you made yourself a cup of coffee, put your feet up, take a break from your mobile phone and spend a little while digesting the beautiful array of stories and photographs that lie waiting for you. We know you’ll love it.

C OV E R M O D E L Spencer Elmer is a film-maker, songwriter, rapper and founder of his clothing brand, ‘Originality is Rare’. You can find him on Instagram @elmofilms

WELCOME

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In This Edition A T H A N K YO U T O V I R T U A L C O N N E C T I O N - P 7

Lockdown has been a struggle for all of us. For Essie Dennis, virtual connection enabled her to maintain social relationships and uphold her mental wellbeing. Let her teach you how.

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The lovely Rosie Viva has had her fair share of adversity to deal with. From dealing with bipolar to founding a non-profit events organisation, her story can teach us all a thing or two about connection.

S E E K I N G A U T H E N T I C I T Y A S A C R E AT I V E A N D I N F U E N C E R - P 4 1

Many of us envy the lives of influencers, able to make a living from their loyal audiences.

For Spencer Elmer, rising to success hasn't been an easy road. As he says, connecting with authenticity has been the key to remaining positive along the journey.

T U R N I N G B L A N K FA C E S I N T O F R I E N D LY O N E S - P 4 9

From growing up in a Steiner school to navigating the pressures placed upon female artists, Mathilda Homer sits down with Gemma Steele in Soho and opens up on how she manages to build relationships and preserve her mental health as a singer.

N AV I G AT I N G M Y M E N TA L H E A LT H A S A H I G H - FA S H I O N M O D E L - P 6 5

Models are often perceived as having it easy, but as the beautiful Moya Palk highlights, this is rarely the case. Whether it's battling eating disorders or navigating the immense pressure placed upon models, there's a lot we can all learn from Moya's insghtful story.

WHY LONELINESS CAN HURT AS BAD AS BEING P U N C H E D I N T H E FA C E - P 8 6

Believe it or not, science shows that the above statement is true - loneliness can literally feel as painful as a hit in the face. In this light-hearted yet impactful piece, bookworm Ed Cunningham teaches us all the importance of connection.

Find us online Website: mindcafe.co Instagram: @mindcafemedia Facebook: @mindcafemedia Twitter: @mindcafemedia LinkedIn: @mindcafemedia

Mind Cafe Media Ltd. 2021 (ISSN 2635-0793)

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IN THIS EDITION

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Sean Newton

L O C AT I O N

London, UK

MODELS

Essie Dennis

A Thank You To Virtual Connection AUTHOR: ESSIE DENNIS

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ast Christmas was not my first quiet Christmas.

I enjoy a quiet Christmas, and a relaxed day with just the two of us was actually kind of perfect. The year before, I remember a crisp but mild Christmas Day of volunteering, making art with strangers, and curling up with hot chocolate when I returned home. I took myself to the cinema on Boxing Day and barely talked to anyone. It was bliss. However, Christmas of 2020 was very different for all of us. There was this overwhelming sense of deflation and sadness rippling through our communities and so many people - who hadn’t seen their families in months - were now unable to enjoy a Christmas with the people closest to them.

When I saw the collective grief that people were feeling, I put out a little feeler out on my Instagram and invited anyone who was alone at Christmas to send me an email so we could have a chat. It felt like the only thing I could do at the time. I told people that I would email them on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day, then they could reply with anything they wanted. The emails I received were very varied. Some were from single mums, some were from students unable to go and see their families, some were from people who had recently

experienced breakups or divorces and were not used to spending Christmas by themselves. All of these people were strangers and yet, I was spending those celebratory days of the year just chatting with them. I learned about people’s backgrounds and their hobbies. I talked to one woman about her kids and asked if they were enjoying their Christmas. We shared anecdotes with one another about how the past year had been for us and the difficulties we’d faced. I felt a kind of warmth from these people I didn’t know. I didn’t even know what they looked like, but I knew exactly how they were feeling.

This was the first time I realised just how vital virtual connection really was for my mental health. I often hear people say that in-person connection is the most important kind of connection. There is this idea that nothing can possibly compare to that. However, I don’t think that’s entirely true. Whilst in-person connection is lovely and wonderful, virtual connection can be just as powerful.

Virtual connection was the reason I felt comfortable coming out as queer, it’s how I found my people, it’s how I found my way out of the trauma that had lived around me for years. We can’t knock the fact that social media has the potential to be a very authentic outlet for us, if we use it in a way that works for us.

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“Virtual connection is real connection.”

A Q U OT E BY E S S I E D E N N I S

In the last year and a half, virtual connections have been extremely meaningful for me. A time of abnormality has created deeper relationships with people that I don’t think would have existed without collective hardship. I think it’s important that, even as the cogs of our lives begin to move again, we remember the genuine moments we’ve had over the frequencies. I don’t want to forget that it’s okay to be open with one another. I like this emotional and vulnerable side to me that I felt comfortable sharing with people online. Social media has given me the opportunity to make new and unexpected friendships, whilst also allowing my current friendships to become deeper. Virtual connection is real connection.

Don’t get me wrong, social media has a bad reputation for our mental health and that isn’t entirely fabricated. I know lots of people who are coming off it for good, and I understand why. There is so much input all the time, so many highlight reels, and way too much perfection. We can feel like we are always available to people and leaving people on read is now such a faux pas that instant replies are expected. It’s difficult to be completely authentic on social media because we can’t show our entire selves in a bunch of photos or videos once or twice a week. It’s natural to talk about the good times rather than the bad or show your positive days rather than your negative days.

So I totally understand why people find social media overwhelming. However, during the pandemic – a time of extreme upheaval – I found myself feeling fonder towards the little grids in my phone.

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MAKING WELLNESS A HABIT

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As someone who has a big social media platform, I’ve had to teach myself how to be healthy online. I have a lot of rules so that I don’t become completely overwhelmed. For instance, I’m very careful about the content I consume online and I make sure I don’t follow anyone who makes me feel bad about myself. I also make sure that I respond to kind comments rather than hateful ones so that I’m always putting my energy into kind people before anyone else. An online friend taught me to do that. The pandemic was a challenge for me because I used to find it easy to take downtime from social media by just living my ‘in-person’ life. Suddenly, social media was my ‘in-person’ life and it was my main connection to the people outside my home. Finding my community virtually became extremely important. I began to make an effort with people more than I had before, I was more likely to do panel events and talks because they were all over zoom and I could just sit in my house and chat to people.

Earlier this year, I took part in a virtual panel with the London Queer Fashion Show to talk about queer experiences throughout the pandemic. It was noticeable to me how deep and honest the conversation became quite quickly. Many of us spoke about the transformative experience of connecting with yourself and your community during a difficult time. All of these virtual connections that were being made felt strong and solid. In some ways, I think that a technological barrier can even make it easier to talk freely. Certain social expectations don’t necessarily exist through a computer screen.

As I look back through my social media messages over the last year and a half, I notice a spontaneity and an openness that I don’t think was there before. I became more likely to ask how someone was feeling or how someone was doing without expecting a superficial answer. We were all telling one another to stay safe at the end of messages and just checking in out of the blue to make sure our mental health was still on track. I started sending people videos that I thought would make them laugh just for the sake of making them laugh. People I hadn’t spoken to in a while would just pop into my head and I would message them without a second thought. There were no expectations, it just felt natural to check in. I know for a fact I wouldn’t have been so honest and open beforehand because I would have felt embarrassed for being sensitive or emotional with people.

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In some ways, I think that a technological barrier can make it easier to talk freely. Certain social expectations don’t necessarily exist through a computer screen.”

A Q U OT E BY E S S I E D E N N I S

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BALANCING DOING WITH BEING

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Now, I know that we all got sick of the Zoom quizzes.

I think the desperation of wanting to see people may have meant we overdid it. Just a tad. I don’t love that I have a whole bloody folder full of quiz questions that I can whip out at a moment’s notice. But on the flipside, I will now FaceTime my best friends spontaneously or just give them a ring for no reason and end up having a lovely conversation. That is another thing I absolutely didn’t used to do. I now speak to one of my best friends every single day, whereas previously we would talk maybe once a week.

People who were originally just mutuals on Instagram and Twitter actually became my friends. I was suddenly more likely to pluck up the courage to be honest with people about wanting to be that genuine friend, rather than trying to play it cool. Before the pandemic, I had been living in London for just under six months and I had slowly been starting to create a queer community for myself. Then, when I felt like I was starting to live my life, we ended up inside. I didn’t want to let those connections go. So, I started

messaging people, replying to their stories, and making a genuine effort. I started to find myself getting very excited to open up my phone to a bunch of social media apps and see who had replied to me. I think I’d forgotten the excitement of making new friends, honestly. As an adult, how often do you just put yourself out there with people you want to be friends with? I’m pretty sure the last time I did that was during freshers week at uni.

Without social media, I don’t think I would have opened any of those doors with people. If I have learned anything, it’s that there’s nothing wrong with going deep with someone quickly. And so, this is a thank you to virtual connection: Thank you for bringing me closer to existing friends.

Thank you for helping me feel brave enough to make new friends.

Thank you for giving me the space to open up about my mental health. Thank you for giving us the tools to keep communities together.

“I now speak to one of my best friends every single day, whereas previously we would talk maybe once a week.”

A Q U OT E BY E S S I E D E N N I S

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ON BEING PRESENT

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Joseph Marchant

L O C AT I O N

Kirtlington

MODELS

Adam Lind

The Kindness Of Strangers AU T H O R : A DA M L I N D

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hen I announced that I was embarking on a hitchhiking journey from Holland to Turkey with my partner, it’s safe to say I was met with mild criticism and concern from friends and family. Growing up in East London, the term ‘stranger danger’ was drilled into me both at school and at home. The general rules were: Do not talk to strangers, do not accept sweets from strangers, and definitely do not get in the car with strangers. At the tender age of 22, I decided to respectfully rebel against the wishes of my elders and, quite literally, put my life into the hands of others whilst hitchhiking across 21 borders by land. The purpose behind my journey was multifaceted. But at the core, my aim was to explore the art of surrendering, experiencing first-hand the true connection of humankind.

Over recent decades, hitchhiking has become somewhat of a lost art. So for those who aren’t familiar, it’s essentially the act of standing by the side of a road with either a handwritten sign listing your desired destination, or waiting with your thumb in the air hoping for a car to stop. There are certain recommended tips to succeed with hitchhiking, like making eye contact with drivers, smiling profusely, and looking as ‘normal’ as possible. Using these methods, me and my partner Lauren took close to a thousand rides on our stint from Europe to Asia.

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THE HABIT OF RESILIENCE

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I’ll never forget our first hitch ride. It took place on the outskirts of Amsterdam.

The Netherlands is a wonderful place to lose your hitching virginity as, unlike here in the UK, hitch-hiking is far more socially acceptable to the Dutch. It was a beautiful sunny day, so we made our way to the layby of the motorway that leads to Belgium only to find a tall skinny sign imprinted with a big white thumb signaling that it was a recognised spot for hitchhikers. I vividly remember turning to Lauren as we waited on the side of the road, smiling with our thumbs in the air, asking, ‘Do you think this is actually going to work?’

Cars passed us by one by one until, after only around fifteen minutes of waiting, a middle-aged gentleman pulled over. Mark was his name. He had a warm, welcoming energy, and so we decided to jump in. On our voyage towards Belgium, we listened intently to stories of Mark’s work, family, and we told him about our upcoming adventure. Twenty minutes before we were due to hop out, Mark turned to us and suggested that, if we had time, we were welcome to go with him to his home to meet his family and have a swim in his pool. As my partner and I had pre-agreed to practice the art of surrendering and essentially ‘go with the flow’ during our trip, it felt foolish to say no. So we spent an afternoon eating pizza in Mark’s uniquely-built Belgian home as he taught us about local culture and Belgian traditions before going for a swim.

You might be asking how we got so ‘lucky’ to find Mark, or why a man would do something as ‘crazy’ to let two complete strangers into his house. Or in reverse, why would we be crazy enough to accept the invitation? These were the types of questions I was asked regularly by friends when we returned home. They led me to wonder where this initial fear of strangers actually stems from. This would be an easy time to start bashing mainstream media and daily news broadcasts which, in my humble opinion, spread a lot of negative and fear-inducing stories about stabbings, abductions, and all kinds of awful stories. As a result, it’s only natural that most of us are afraid of strangers. However, have you ever wondered how we’d all feel about strangers if we were to hear some of the positive stories? In some ways, the media can fuel many of our existing fears. I used to suffer from a fear of flying, for example, and I’d dread hearing the rare news of a recent plane crash since this would only make my phobia worse. But then I had an alternative thought.

How many planes safely travel every single day that we don’t hear about? In the same way, I do genuinely believe if we are working with probabilities and statistics, the amount of trusting, kind-hearted, and good people on this earth massively outweighs the dangerous ones - we just don’t hear the positive stories. But those warm, loving people are still out there. It’s all about perspective.

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ON BEING PRESENT

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That said, I’d like to share a few more tales of the kindness we endured during our adventure. One that always stands out in my mind started in Dijon, France.

We were heading to Italy with no real plan except to head south when, after around forty-five minutes of waiting with our thumbs out, a young woman called Violet stopped for us. She had a light, calm yet bubbly energy, and her spacious van was laced with a good sound system and enough room for our big backpacks. She offered to drop us off in Lyon, a city around two hours towards our desired direction. As we got closer, I had a quick Google search for Lyon and it appeared to be quite a large cosmopolitan city - far from our usual preference. Voicing these concerns, Violet suggested we traveled further with her towards her hometown of Chambery as it sounded better suited. We exchanged conversations about life, our fears, aspirations, and dreams. It’s always wonderful to experience the level of connection you gain when conversing with strangers.

You’re denied the ability to gossip and make empty small talk, often entering far deeper realms of discussion with people whom you hardly know.

As we edged closer, Violet informed us that she was stopping off at home for an hour before heading to Switzerland to work at a festival. To our surprise, she suggested taking us back to her penthouse apartment, giving us the keys, and offered for us to stay there at our leisure, leaving the keys with a neighbour if we departed before she returned. We spent a phenomenal seven days in the quaint, picturesque village of Chambery - a place we never would have even known existed if it wasn’t for the kindness of Violet and the connection we built in just a couple of hours.

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I do genuinely believe if we are working with probabilities and statistics, the amount of trusting, kind-hearted people on this earth outweighs the dangerous ones.”

A Q U OT E BY A DA M L I N D

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THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

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Stories of this kind were plentiful across every country we visited on our trip. We were invited to stay in the homes of countless drivers across Turkey, India, and Spain. We were taken to eat at local restaurants by people in Slovenia, Romania, and Croatia, and truck drivers helped us cross the borders of Serbia and Bulgaria to get to our destinations faster. The list of examples of similar acts of true kindness is endless, but the facts remain the same. Once we look past the media-fed stereotypes and concerns surrounding ‘strangers’ of different cultures, races, and religions and start to see others as equal beings just the same as ourselves, it becomes a lot easier to connect and trust people. And once we open our minds and hearts to sharing truthful, vulnerable conversations, that connection grows even stronger.

My experiences traveling taught me that, as human beings, we really just need three things: food, shelter, and connection. Some people may eat in fancy restaurants with private chefs, while others might find food from rubbish bins and the reduced sections of supermarkets. Some may find shelter in five-star hotels or mansions, while others might find it in a leaky tent or a squat. Regardless of what you eat or where you sleep, the most fundamental human need that I observed along my trip was connection. Whether with lovers, friends, family, neighbors, work colleagues, or community, the happiest of people were always the ones that embraced unfiltered, authentic human connection.

I’m not suggesting that anyone leaves their jobs and homes and uproots to endure a similar trip to mine. However, I am simply inviting you to share a smile or conversation with a stranger the next time it feels right. You never know what might happen.

“As human beings, we really just need three things: food, shelter, and connection.”

A Q U OT E BY A DA M L I N D

THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Joseph Marchant

L O C AT I O N

Hoxton, London

MODELS

Rosie Viva

The Importance of Seeking Connection When Battling Mental Illness A U T H O R : R O S I E V I VA

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eeting Rosie in person, you’d never expect her life story to have been such a rough ride, but I guess that’s always the way with mental illness. On the surface, most of us appear to be totally fine. And that’s what isolates us. In our efforts to remain strong and stable, we close ourselves off from those who genuinely wish to help us, simply because they’re unaware of what’s truly going on in our lives.

Bubbly, charismatic and good-humoured, I knew Rosie and I would get along instantly. There’s a certain unity between those of us who have suffered crushing adversity, and it was the same thread that connected me and Rosie right from the get go. Sitting on her sunny balcony in Hoxton, London, we spoke at length about the trials and tribulations that many of us young and aspiring creatives endure. But it was different for Rosie. Battling with general

anxiety disorder, bipolar and the hypomania that comes with it all made forging ahead and creating an organisation centered around helping others in similar situations an even greater challenge.

From an early age, Rosie’s journey has been a beautiful blend of tumult, adventure and struggle. Moving to London at eighteen years old to pursue a career in modelling, Rosie told herself that she’d give it a shot for one year. If it didn’t work out, she’d pursue university and the academic route. “That first year was a flop,” she admits. But that didn’t stop her. After having a bash at modelling for another twelve months, Rosie was taken under the wing of Select Models, an agency that ‘truly believed in her and her full potential’. That was in 2017.

Things seemed to be looking up. But by 2018, life took a huge turn for the worse.

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“I was very oblivious to the importance of mental health until I suffered myself,” admits Rosie. “I spent the first five months of 2018 trying to figure out what on earth was wrong with me - why I was shaking constantly, feeling nauseous and worrying that I was going to die all of the time.” Rosie recounts how much effort was spent trying to identify a physical cause for her unusual symptoms.

Endless scans and tests weren’t doing anything in the way of uncovering what was wrong., and that’s when her doctors eventually realised. This wasn’t a physical illness. It was bipolar.

The next eight months were spent trying to mitigate symptoms with various antidepressants and treatments.

“I broke up with my boyfriend around then, too, mainly as a result of me just not feeling like myself. Breaking up with somebody forces you to focus on what’s going on internally. You’re never going to be able to be your full cheery self when there’s other stuff going on in your head.”

Not long after the breakup, Rosie found herself feeling uncharacteristically elated for around two weeks. “My friends were shocked to see how happy I suddenly was,” she explains. “Everything smelled good, tasted good - it was like being in this cloud of euphoria. I now know that this was hypomania, a symptom of type-one bipolar, which I was later diagnosed with.”

After three months spent in Ealing Hospital’s ‘Hope’ Ward, Rosie finally began to recover and resume her life as a model and creative. “Since I got better, I’ve felt this need to voice everything that happened,” she goes on. “When you speak about these things and people can relate, you start to feel this sense of community. It helped me get better and I know that others can be helped by me speaking so openly about it.” It’s this community-centered drive that fuels much of Rosie’s efforts as part of her nonprofit organisation, Viva Fever. Viva Fever brings together like-minded people into casual spaces where they can talk openly about their own journeys, all whilst raising money and awareness for mental health charities.

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“Now, three years later, since accepting and learning how to manage the disorder, it’s one of those things that I’ve become quite happy to have so long as I treat it with respect. I’ve come to harness the strengths that come with it, in a way.” Asking Rosie about the importance of connecting with others along her journey, she explains how crucial relationships with others have been to her own personal recovery. “For me, personally, I didn’t realise the importance of connection until I started making a documentary this year about bipolar. We started filming it in January 2021 and finished at the start of April. I met people for the first time in person who’d had a similar experience to me. That peer support is so beautiful and vital in anyone’s recovery because in a second you can read someone’s emotions in real life and pick up on their energy.

Connection, for me, has taught me so much. I’ve learned so much from people much older than me who manage their disorder really well.”

She continues, “It’s weird how seeing someone in person, you feel their energy and learn so much more than if you were to just message online. When I had anxiety,

that connection every week with a psychotherapist always gave me so much mental ease because they’d make me feel normal and really be on my side.”

The importance of in-person connection really can’t be overstated, especially in a world marred by mental illness and dominated by social media. Our efforts to connect online have left many of us feeling more disconnected than ever. As Rosie’s story indicates, you really can’t substitute the value of in-person relationships with digital communication. If the COVID-19 pandemic and subsequent lockdowns have taught us anything, it’s that humans are very social creatures. We need each other, and often, our relationships are our greatest strength.

To quote Rosie, “Connectivity and being around people is something that we’re all learning the importance of.

Whether you’ve had mental illness or you just have highs and lows on a weekly basis, it’s a really exciting time now that we’re getting that connection back. I think everyone should pat themselves on the back for how they’ve dealt with the last year, and recognise that it has been a really challenging time for everyone at any age.”

I think everyone should pat themselves on the back for how they’ve dealt with the last year, and recognise that it’s been a really challenging time for everyone at any age.”

A Q U O T E B Y R O S I E V I VA

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“Recognise that, before any diagnosis, you may have already experienced the hardest years of your life.”

A Q U O T E B Y R O S I E V I VA

Rounding off our conversation as the sun begins to set over the skyline of London, I asked Rosie what advice she might wish to give somebody else that finds themselves suffering with the same afflictions that she previously endured. “Most importantly,” she says, “recognise that, before any diagnosis, you may have already had the hardest years of your life by going through those emotions without any support. For me, the most overwhelming feeling was being given that diagnosis, but in hindsight, I can see that was the first and most important step towards my recovery.”

“So what’s next for you?” I asked Rosie as we began packing away our equipment. “The main thing right now is finishing editing the documentary.

I’m aiming to have it tied up by October. Like everything I do around mental health, the documentary is purely a passion project. My main aim is to take it to universities and places where mental illness is more prevalent. I think even if you don’t experience these things yourself, it’s important to have an understanding of mental illness so that you can better support loved ones who might be experiencing anxiety, depression, grief or anything else.”

It was beautiful to see such a warm and genuine smile on Rosie’s face during our interview. To see firsthand that there’s always a way out of mental illness, even when life feels so terribly unbearable, was truly inspiring. And I think we can all learn a lot from Rosie and others struggling with similar experiences. Even at our lowest lows, the dark days in our lives will eventually pass. Just as night and day come in cycles, I thought to myself as I watched the sun set behind Rosie, so, too, do sadness and happiness. We just have to keep moving forward.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Joseph Marchant

L O C AT I O N

Hyde Park

MODELS

Spencer Elmer

Seeking Authenticity as a Creative and Influencer INTERVIEWER: ADRIAN DREW INTERVIEWEE: SPENCER ELMER

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chieving early success and accumulating a huge audience at such a young age is enough to inflate anyone’s ego to an unhealthy degree. Sitting down on the benches at Hyde Park to chat with Spencer Elmer, however, arrogance and self-conceit are entirely absent in his demeanour. And that makes him even more admirable. Talented and well-spoken, Spencer has every reason to be full of himself, and yet he sits with me, listening intently and leaving his ego at the door.

Also known as Elmo Films, Spencer’s early success came through his YouTube channel, now sporting over 310,000 subscribers on the platform and more than 220,000 followers on Instagram. Since establishing his audience, the young filmmaker has now turned to writing song lyrics and rapping in a stripped-back, relaxed and authentic style not dissimilar to the likes of Loyle Carner and Maverick Sabre. “I’m predominantly a YouTuber,” explains Spencer. “But through the journey, I’ve kind of stepped away and found myself in different pockets of creativity, whether through music or fashion design.

That’s where I am currently - trying to be as creative as possible and sharing my experience along the way.”

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Asking Spencer what he aims to convey to his audience through these various different outlets, he recounts how it all began with him just documenting different things he was experiencing to share with friends and family. These early videos began gaining traction, thousands of followers joining Spencer’s journey and watching him venture through life as a teenager. “But I’m quite a vulnerable character, and it got to the point where it sensed that my audience at the time was noticing that, too. Since then, I’ve been more focused on being as honest and open as possible online, hopefully inspiring my audience to do the same. I want to communicate that you can do your thing without being judged, and you don’t have to be this strong, alpha male character all of the time.” He goes on to talk about how he aims to share with others what’s going on in his own head, his world, and to start a conversation that’s a little different to what’s online at the moment.

“But before that, it all started with gaming videos,” he recalls. “I’d just record videos of me playing online with my mates, and then I remember I really wanted to start recording my experiences in dayto-day life. So I did. I uploaded every day from around fifteen years old, missing only a handful.” Spencer began filming and posting daily vlogs until starting to study film and business at college. “It got to a point where I could either fully take the risk and pursue whatever this video-based career could be, or I’d have to stay at college and continue the academic route.” Spencer decided to take the leap. And he hasn’t looked back since.

Now living in London with fellow creators, Spencer continues creating the same style of videos, deploying his creative and artistic flair and enabling that to direct his unique editing style.

“Have there been any challenges along the way?” I asked Spencer, the sound of birds accompanying our conversation in the greenery of Hyde Park. “Mentally, I’d say it’s one of the hardest jobs to pursue. I’ve had some massive challenges, and every week can feel like a struggle.

“The only connection that’s truly important is human connection.”

A Q U OT E BY S P E N C E R E P M E R

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Your business is your face. You can’t switch that off. I can’t close the door and go out and be Spencer for a little bit, because people still know me from my mistakes and their preconceived opinions of me.

I had a conversation only the other day about how YouTubers and creatives can feel somewhat detached from reality. You’re literally living a life to share with others. You’re almost living to impress people and entertain constantly, whether that’s through videos or Instagram stories.

Moreover, I get comments every day that can hit like a tonne of bricks.

You can easily lose your sense of self, so it’s vital that you know exactly who you are and the person that you’re betraying.”

Finding connection in such a digitally-dominated world is becoming increasingly challenging. “There are two types of connection nowadays - online and offline,” explains Spencer. “Everyone feels like they’re constantly connecting because everything is just so accessible, but the only connection that’s truly important is human connection.”

Spencer goes on to talk about the difficulties of building true, meaningful relationships as a creator with a large audience. “Intentions are so hard to read. When I feel like a person might be a certain way, I can never be sure. People are attracted to validation these days they crave social media credibility and clout. Being a creator with a relatively large audience makes you feel like you’re constantly on show.

Also, my whole life is online. Whether it comes to making friends or dating, I can’t just become a new person because there’s a whole catalogue of everything I’ve ever said and done available to anyone online. It can take years to actually trust that someone is speaking to me because they value me as a person, not just because of the perception they already had of me. You almost have to isolate yourself to feel safe, which is scary.” Spencer continues discussing how individuated we’ve all become, many people opting to stay inside behind a screen rather than going out and meeting people. “There’s a real struggle to connect nowadays,” he observes. “We feel like we’re connecting all the time, but nobody’s actually connecting as much as they might believe.”

Walking now to pick up a few coffees, I notice three girls behind the counter at Hyde Park staring at Spencer. After ordering, one of them asks if he’s famous. “Are you Spencer Elmer?” Spencer politely denies, and says they must have been thinking of somebody else. And that led me to my next question. “Not many people in your position are as humble as you. Most would lap up any attention like that. How do you deal with being in the limelight when you’re such a modest person?”

“It’s because I have the biggest imposter syndrome,” he admits.

“I don’t know why I’m in this position, and I never have. I can look around at the beautiful place I’m in, and I can’t help but ask, why me?”

Growing up in Devon, a small town in which everybody is familiar with one another, I never really felt like somebody significant. And I’d love to feel like I’m that guy, but it’s just never been that way. Again, maybe it comes with being vulnerable or overthinking too much, I don’t know,” continues Spencer.

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“It comes back to connection, I guess. Learning about new cultures and understanding new people.”

A Q U OT E BY S P E N C E R E L M E R

Moving on to speak about the pursuit of wealth, fame and material possessions, Spencer and I can relate on the trap many of us fall into.

That is, seeking to accumulate so many external things, only to realise that happiness can’t be found in anything other than ourselves. “It’s a trap, but in the same way, it’s beautiful. We set these materialistic goals, deciding that we’ll be happy when we do this or get that. But doing that almost forced me into some kind of spiritual journey. Getting closer to the top, you often only feel more disheartened and incomplete. I read a quote recently, though, that said you’ll never fully feel complete until you dedicate your time to helping others. Regardless of whatever you have, if you can help those around you to feel happy, that’s the only thing that will ever bring you true validation. It’s a different type of joy. As is gratitude. Being grateful for what we have is one of the most wonderful and powerful practices we can utilise.”

Rounding off our conversation as Joe begins to pack away his photography equipment, I ask Spencer what his true passion is. “The things that I’m passionate about change so quickly. Currently, I’d say I get the most enjoyment out of making music. The reason I love it so much is because it’s such a good outlet for me. I get to write down exactly how I’m feeling. It’s not like a vlog where I need to edit it to look beautiful - I can speak my mind and put it out there,” he explains.

“Music is also another chance for me to express the vulnerability I spoke about earlier. Even my management said ‘it’s the only time we get to hear the real you.’ That sort of creative outlet helps people to connect more. It’s me. The real me.”

“And of course, as always, seeing and experiencing new things, places and meeting people is something I care deeply about. It comes back to connection, I guess. Learning about new cultures and understanding new people. Connecting, both inside and outside myself.”

Finishing our coffees and heading back to the park entrance to conclude our conversation, I’m left with such a positive feeling. Meeting a person of the same age, on a similar journey and who I can relate with on so many different levels is truly refreshing. And then I realise - that, itself, is another example of deep, meaningful connection.

Nothing quite compares to that long-lasting sense of joy and peace we feel when we can truly resonate with somebody we meet. It’s as Spencer said, “the only connection that’s truly important is human connection”. I couldn’t agree more.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Sean Newton

L O C AT I O N

Soho, London

MODELS

Mathilda Homer

Turning Blank Faces Into Friendly Ones INTERVIEWER: GEMMA STEELE I N T E R V I E W E E : M AT H I L D A H O M E R

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here can’t be many twenty-three-year-olds that spent the first lockdown planting threethousand trees and digging out a natural pool. Most of us, myself included, whiled away the lockdown by drinking too much, exercising too little and flirting with new hobbies we knew we wouldn’t and couldn’t sustain. Up and coming singer-songwriter, Mathilda Homer, is no ordinary twenty-three-year-old. “I was slightly tipsy on my brother’s birthday, and I started digging up my parents’ garden”, Mathilda admits. “My parents thought it was funny, but they didn’t think I’d do it.

But when they woke up at 6 am the next day, I was already out there; digging again.” It’s clear Mathilda is aware that the idea is a little bonkers, but she’s proud nonetheless. “I stayed up all night, every night, watching YouTube videos on plumbing natural pools. I couldn’t exactly give up, there was a hole in our garden!”

As she sits before me, her hands and Doc Martens are splattered with paint. Her latest project is the total renovation of a house she’s bought with her sister in Hastings. “I like doing physical activities, but not the gym; I don’t like gym culture”, Mathilda explains. “When I’m building things, my mind’s on that and none of the other stuff. It’s satisfying, and I think that’s where my calmness comes from.”

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“I can listen to my gut and let that guide what music I release, now that I've found my feet.”

A Q U O T E B Y M AT H I L D A H O M E R

What strikes me most about Mathilda is her connection to herself. She has an unapologetic directness to her: she knows what makes her tick, what makes her happy.

Building is not a stereotypical hobby, nor is it a popular one, but Mathilda is unphased by this. She has an acute self-awareness that, as a fellow millennial imprisoned by social media and unattainable beauty standards, I know is as rare as unicorns.

It is this understanding of her mind and experience that enables her to create music that carries a visceral universality. Themes of heartbreak, love, growth, regret and hurt permeate Mathilda’s music, allowing her listeners to find themselves painted in her lyrics. Mathilda tells me how her song ‘Too Much’ was released pre-pandemic, yet lyrics like ‘I get scared for the world if I think too much,’ and ‘How much could I take of being down, down?’ now carry an unforeseen relevance and relatability. The connection that Mathilda’s music makes with her listeners is crucial to her. “It makes me want to cry. That’s exactly what I want: for people to see themselves singing it.”

But despite Mathilda’s success with emotion-based songs, she’s keen to move back towards how songs used to be. “I want to go back to that situational imagery of songs”, she explains. “I love songs like Fields of Gold and Bridge over Troubled Water. I want people to connect to my songs emotionally, but visually too.”

Mathilda is an old soul when it comes to her music taste, and her attitude carries a distinct maturity to it too. It’s like if I were to unzip her down her spine, I might reveal a haggard, worldly old lady abuzz with 80 years of stories.

“I went to a Steiner school”, Mathilda explains. “At a

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Steiner school, it’s not about exams, and your teachers aren’t above you. It’s about learning to articulate how you feel, learning how to interact with people without being worried about it.”

“We weren’t the kind of family that would have kids sitting on a kid’s table, and I’m one of four children”, Mathilda continues. “I’ve always been involved in conversations which probably wouldn’t be for a normal child. My dad used to genuinely terrify me about the environment. We weren’t sheltered from worrying things.”

A lot of my conversation with Mathilda revolves around her experience with her family, the most instinctual, fundamental connection a person might know. Perhaps it comes from being so young, a majority of her life, thus far, has been spent surrounded by them.

Mathilda’s self-connection has allowed her to finetune her sound in her music too. “I’m now in a position where I can listen to my gut and let that guide what music I release, now that I’ve found my feet.” Mathilda explains. “When I first started writing music, it was more like it is now, I’ve come full circle and realised that the music I wrote in the beginning is what’s authentic to me.”

I find myself in awe of Mathilda’s confidence and assuredness. At times I feel like I’ve been invited to sit with the cool girl at a school canteen. I find myself thinking that perhaps if I sit here for long enough, people might start seeing me as a little less gawky, like I could dredge some of the excess cool out of her and drink it myself.

She is effortless. So, in the least sadistic way possible, it is somewhat of a relief to hear her talk about her insecurities.

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“I’m not really a social media gal,” she begins. “So the pressure over the last year and a half has been tough. You’re supposed to post one main grid post on Instagram each day, five interactive stories each day, Instagram live videos, and three TikToks a day. It’s tiring. You feel you have to wear this persona - do your hair, do your make up, try to show a whole personality in one little clip. It’s a minefield.”

So often we discuss connection as a good thing, this act of uniting beings with other beings. However, Mathilda’s experience in the music industry highlights a darker side to connection, that is, the fact that connections increase the number of people we can be compared to. “The music industry wants to pit a female artist against another female artist who is maybe the same age,” Mathilda comments. “There’s this automatic thinking that people don’t have enough time to listen to both. I don’t want to be pitted against other female artists and they don’t want to be pitted against me. It’s like an awful default setting of thinking everyone’s your rival.”

By almost fighting fire with fire, Mathilda has found a

way to overcome this negativity. “I want to support and be supported by those other female artists. They’re all legends.

Why would we not want to hang out? We do the same job, we have the same feelings, the same worries with social media, to not unite would be criminal!” Mathilda exclaims.

“So, I created this group chat called ‘Who runs the world’, with ten other female music artists. It’s important to come together because we know what each other are going through more than anyone else.”

Community seems to be central to Mathilda’s life ethos, no more so than in the past eighteen months through the coronavirus pandemic.

“It was a weird time, wasn’t it?” Mathilda asks. “It was animalistic, just honing in on what matters most. My little sister was struggling badly with her mental health, so we all kind of rallied around her and formed this big support system. There aren’t any shops near us, and at one point we couldn’t get food for three weeks, so we had to make do. We cut up onions just to freeze them. It felt so old-fashioned, but kind of nice, too.”

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Chatting to Mathilda is refreshing. She seems to prioritise human connection, authenticity, and I can feel it just from sitting opposite her. I don’t feel like this is the first time I’ve met Mathilda - she radiates a warm familiarity that I want to swaddle myself in. I, like many other stereotypical Brits, have a stash of small talk questions to lean on when meeting new people, but my listless laments on the British weather are wasted on Mathilda. Within just a few minutes she’s recounting a memory of when she almost drowned in a septic tank. It’s niche, but weirdly endearing.

“Connecting with strangers is powerful”, Mathilda explains. “Just the other week I saw a pregnant woman crying on the tube, so I asked her if she wanted to get off and have a chat. We sat on the platform for twenty minutes, she was nervous about being a mum for the first time. I don’t have a baby, so I had no advice to give her, but I hope the chat helped.” Mathilda continues, “Everywhere you walk, you have these little strings attached, I love it.”

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It’s somewhat ironic yet wholly expected, but by the end of the interview, I feel such a strong connection to Mathilda. In truth, I felt something of a connection to her before I met her, just from having listened to her upcoming EP, If You Were on Fire. It’s a welcome reminder of the common ground we all share, of the experiences, paths, journeys and hardships.

That’s what’s magical about connection, that it can turn blank faces into friendly ones, make oceans feel like puddles, mountains like speed bumps. Talking to Mathilda is a lesson in vulnerability, in openness and authenticity. As I leave the London espresso bar we’ve been chatting in, I feel like I’m saying goodbye to a friend, not just an interviewee. It’s a warm goodbye but, of course, I cannot leave without asking about that natural pool.

“My family swim in the pool every day”, Mathilda tells me proudly. “Oh, we love it! In the winter we were out there breaking the ice on top, just so we could carry on using it together.”

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Joseph Marchant

L O C AT I O N

Oxfordshire

MODELS

Adrian Drew

A Beginner’s Guide to Making Friends AUTHOR: ADRIAN DREW

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e all want to be accepted; to have friends. Like it or not, our evolutionary desire for social approval is so strong that it drives many of our actions and shapes our society. It pulls us to wear certain clothes, go to particular places and purchase various things — even if we ourselves don’t actually want to.

Though we’d prefer not to admit it, our craving for approval is such a deeply ingrained part of our nature that it underpins many aspects of our way of life. Examples include fashion, front-facing cameras, luxury brands, beauty cosmetics, and of course, social media. Don’t believe me? Well, just ask yourself the following question. Have you ever posted a picture of yourself sitting at home, watching TV and wearing comfortable clothes? Or do exciting and attractive images of you looking your best populate your social media feeds?

I’d suspect the answer is the latter. We don’t post photographs of us looking plain and ordinary, simply because those photos aren’t likely to grasp peoples’ attention and reward us with likes. A quick observation of our online tendencies makes the following truth glaringly obvious.

We all want to be liked. And yet, in an attempt to earn the acceptance of the people we meet, our beliefs about what it takes to be liked have become misguided.

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Making meaningful connections with others isn't about some intrinsic propert within us. It's about how we make people feel.”

A Q U OT E BY A D R I A N D R E W

We think others will only accept us if they approve of our personality or character; if they like the way we look or the clothes we wear; if we have enough followers on Instagram or a strong investment portfolio.

The simple truth, however, is that making meaningful connections with others isn’t about some intrinsic property within us. It’s not about how we dress or our net worth or anything external. None of those factors matter at all, really. It just comes down to how we make people feel.

Often, we’re driven by our own self-consciousness when engaging in conversation. Under the pressure of awkward conversations with strangers or the forced environment of the workplace, we panic. We fear that we’ll say the wrong thing or make a fool out of ourselves by being vulnerable. At the heart of these fears is the assumption that other peoples’ opinions of us are fixed — as if we will only be liked if we pass some imaginary assessment based upon our looks or character.

In treating social approval as a fixed state, we wait for our acquaintances to show signs that they like us, only prepared to fully open up once we’re sure that we’ve been accepted; and if the opposite is true, we may distance ourselves in order to avoid embarrassment and humiliation.

As Alain de Botton puts it: ‘Both sides proceed under the tacit assumption that there is some external verdict about their value that the other person will be developing in their mind which has no connection to how they themselves behave and is impervious to anything they say or do.’

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“Social approval isn't some binary state, like an on-or-off switch, but rather an ever-changing flow of judgments.”

A Q U OT E BY A D R I A N D R E W

But beliefs simply aren’t determined in this way. Social approval isn’t some binary state, like an on-or-off switch, but rather an everchanging flow of judgments and thoughts influenced by action. The irony of it all is that our efforts to be liked often only hinder our ability to make friends. When you approach a conversation with the fear of being rejected, you hide away parts of your character that you deem unlikeable — even if these are some of your most loveable quirks and qualities. Often, it’s only once this non-existent test has been passed that we’re prepared to open ourselves to judgment fully.

As much as we think hiding away will protect us, it will not help us to build deeper connections with people. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

We conceal our true selves for fear of rejection and only increase our chances of being rejected in doing so. The fact of the matter is that being liked just depends upon how we behave around our acquaintances — not on our status or whether or not we meet some fictitious social criteria. And often, being liked is less about trying to please others and more about simply learning to like and accept them, just as we wish to be liked and accepted.

In the same vein, one of the simplest tools we can use to strengthen our relationships with others is to become more curious. That is, to ask more questions and listen with greater intensity. We can display an interest in others, laugh at their jokes, and sympathize with their sorrows. As Dale Carnegie put it: “You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.”

Few people will dislike us if we simply open our hearts and give them our undivided attention. Making friends is often as simple as opening up, being ourselves, and expressing a genuine interest in others. After all, we’re only human, and we all crave acceptance in the same way.

Offering it freely is the easiest way to receive it in return.

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We will, of course, sometimes be faced with rejection.

While people will most likely respond positively if we portray our genuine selves, there will still be people who dislike us.

In such cases, we have to remember that nothing any person does is truly about us. It’s about them. If people laugh at the way we look, if they shout at us, if they insult us, if they call us fat, stupid, useless — that doesn’t matter. It has nothing to do with us. That’s just them expressing their own beliefs and ideals. It’s a reflection of their own insecurities.

Whether what they say is true or not, if you take it personally, you acknowledge what they’ve said and you believe it. You take it to be true, even if they didn’t mean it.

And you start to redefine yourself based upon a lie. As Don Miguel Ruiz puts it, ‘Whenever we hear an opinion and believe it, we make an agreement, and it becomes part of

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our belief system.’

If a person beeps their horn at you and you take it personally, you’ll respond defensively. And you’ll start thinking differently about yourself based upon their actions. By knowing deep down who you truly are, becoming self-aware, and understanding your strengths, you can live knowing that nothing anybody else does is about you. If people are angry with me, I know that’s all them. It’s their problem. I’ll listen and acknowledge their comments, and sure, I might have done something wrong, but I won’t respond angrily because I don’t need to be offended. It’s nothing personal. I’ll go ahead and make adjustments to my behavior if I deem it necessary, but I don’t need to act defensively because I know this has nothing to do with me. I don’t start redefining my image of myself based upon what’s been said or done.

“Only when you learn to take nothing personally can you start being true to yourself.”

A Q U OT E BY A D R I A N D R E W

Only when you learn to take nothing personally can you start being true to yourself. You can love openly and act with complete freedom. No longer do you need to walk around with your guard up. The actions of others cease to upset you.

Why? Because you know nothing anybody does or says is really about you.

As Ruiz says, “There is a huge amount of freedom that comes to you when you take nothing personally.” When you take nothing personally, you can be yourself without fear. And if people dislike that, you can rest assured knowing that that’s their problem, not yours. Acknowledging this simple truth can really open the doors for us to begin building meaningful relationships with others. Being your true, authentic self, you’ll attract others similar to you rather than those that approve only of the false facade you may now be upholding.

And as long as we continue to show warmth, sincerity, and encouragement, the barriers will eventually come down on both sides of every engagement we make. The key to building deep and meaningful connections isn’t to focus on changing ourselves, molding our characters, or refining our looks — but simply to become more genuine.

That is, to show sincere curiosity in others and to learn to be ourselves unapologetically by refusing to take anything personally.

All too often, two people fail to connect not because they dislike one another, but because both people defensively assume that the other person does not like them. The solution is to simply forget about whether or not people like you.

Instead, concentrate on showing that you like them. Often, it really is that simple.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Anya Holdstock, Colin Dack

L O C AT I O N

Various

MODELS

Moya Palk

Navigating My Mental Health as a High Fashion Model INTERVIEWER: ADRIAN DREW I N T E R V I E W E E : M OYA PA L K

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any of us make the false assumption that modelling is one of those ‘easy jobs’.

Being paid to dress nice and have your photo taken seems, to the average person, like a relatively easy and fulfilling career path to pursue. And perhaps this is true, in some ways, but as Moya Palk reveals in my interview with her, there are certainly a number of huge challenges that models are forced to face along their journey to becoming a front-cover star.

Growing up near Manchester, 23 year old model Moya is set to start her master’s degree in neuroscience and mental health in London this September. “While I enjoy modelling and it helps me to fund my lifestyle, my degree is my main passion,” she explains.

“I hadn’t planned to go into modelling, but I was scouted at the Birmingham Clothes Show

when I was fifteen. It’s something I’d never really considered. I was bullied a lot at school, and going from being called ‘Golem’ to now being a model was totally unexpected.”

Meeting clients in London and running a few test shoots, Moya was thrown pretty much straight into the deep end. “My first proper job was with Prada in New York. I was shooting with people like Steven Meisel and Pat McGrath - huge names in the industry that I’d never even heard of at the time. In a sense, it was better that I didn’t know who they were. It made me feel less nervous, seeing them as the normal people that they are rather than these huge names. It was all quite bizarre to me. I had no sense of the scale of what was to come, and I was still at school at the time.

It was quite hard to manage modelling with school - I must’ve had about thirty sick days in year twelve.”

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You’re constantly being told to change, and it’s hard. I even had an old client tell me I looked ‘pear-shaped’, and I needed to go home and lose some weight.”

A Q U O T E B Y M O YA PA L K

Although on an entirely different scale, I could relate to Moya’s struggle. Playing drums for a band in high school, things really started taking off for us. We managed to land a couple of UK tours and airtime on Radio 1, but getting time off school was always tricky.

It’s hard at that age. When your ambitions lie outside of education or academia, finding a balance and having people believe in your dreams is nearly impossible. “I remember my school really pushing me to write a personal statement and apply to uni,” Moya explained.

“They hated it when I said I didn’t want to do that and pursue modelling instead.” It was much the same for me when I began pursuing a career as a freelance writer. My school teachers really didn’t support me choosing such an uncertain path. Ultimately, though you just have to believe in yourself and try not to let other people get in the way of what you truly want.

While the start of Moya’s journey was filled with promise, optimism and many wonderful opportunities, it certainly hasn’t been an easy road. Asking her if she’s faced any significant obstacles along the way, Moya began to shed

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light on some of the difficulties many of the models I’ve met seem to have faced. “When I first started, I was very young and naive,” she admits. “I hadn’t experienced the modelling world for what it truly was. Often, agencies will really sugar-coat things. They’ll tell you to ‘tone up a bit’ and lose weight, or the opposite.

You’re constantly being told to change, and it’s hard. I was even told by a brand in Paris that I looked ‘pear-shaped’, and I needed to go home and lose some weight. Comments like that can be so damaging, particularly at a young age when you’re still trying to figure out who you really are. To make it worse, you get commended by others for losing weight in the modelling industry, which was so confusing as an eighteen year old girl - being praised purely for my body. And then once I did lose weight, I was criticised for looking too slim. It’s like you can’t win. I even had an old client tell me to ‘go home, eat a few bacon sandwiches, and then we’ll send you to Milan’. These dramatic changes affected me so much. I lost my period for a few years, developed really bad acne and just didn’t feel myself at all. It was a real struggle.”

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Thankfully, Moya has since been able to overcome these obstacles. “I started taking my mental health seriously after reaching a new low. I had therapy, started medication and took some time out for myself. Now I feel like a different person completely - I’m no longer on medication and my mental health is so much better. I feel really good about myself, but it’s hard when you’re younger because you’re so sensitive and still trying to work out your opinions on the world, yourself and everything else. You take every little comment that people say to heart. Giving someone else control over what you eat and how you feel is horrible.”

“An eating disorder is so personal,” Moya explains. “Figuring out the root of your condition and exploring the drivers is so important. I don’t think I necessarily handled it the right way. I decided to become vegan and told myself to eat whatever I wanted as long as it was vegan, which wasn’t exactly healthy, but doing so made me really fall back in love with food. I’m not vegan anymore, though. Rosie made a salmon one day in the flat and it smelled so good, I just couldn’t help myself,” she laughs. “Now I eat fish and dairy, but not meat. And I’m happy with that. My relationship with food is so much healthier” Highlighting the importance of connection, Moya goes on to speak about how crucial the support of others was in her own journey to recovery. “Just talking to somebody was so helpful. I was a really secretive person when

it came to my eating disorder. If somebody would ask if I’m okay, I’d just reply with ‘Yeah, of course’, by default - never really opening up. Eventually I started talking, mainly to my mum. Being honest about how I felt was so helpful. The conversation around mental health is really important. Even today, it’s spoken about a lot on social media but a lot of it feels quite performative. It’s vital to actually check in on friends and ask how they’re really feeling, not to just assume that they’re fine and leave them to it.”

I agreed with Moya, explaining how prevalent these same issues are in men in particular. “Us guys just rarely speak about how we feel,” I admit. “We bottle a lot of things up and try to uphold this strong, stable facade rather than speaking. I think my friendship group is a little different. We’re very open and supportive, and I didn’t realise how rare that was for a group of lads until a girl hung out with us for the evening. She was blown away by how openly we discussed our emotions, and said that really was something special.”

“It’s definitely rare,” Moya agrees. “Male models have a lot of eating difficulties too that are rarely spoken about. Othorexia, an eating disorder that drives you to eat extremely and unwaveringly healthy, is a big issue for men.

My food now is so random - I’ll have crisps, chocolate, whatever I want really. And now I feel my body looks great, without me being so restrictive and self-deprecating.”

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Moya and I went on to talk about the falseness of social media and how damaging it is for young people to be presented with unrealistic images of models and influencers.

“A lot more needs to change in the industry.

Young girls and boys are seeing these photoshopped and airbrushed photos on Instagram and longing to look like a person that doesn’t even exist. It’s important to be aware of that. Having it in the back of your mind, that models on social media don’t actually look that way in real life, can help. I certainly don’t look like that first thing in the morning. It comes back to connection again connection with yourself and with reality.”

“Realising that everybody else is in the same boat as you can really help us to find connection, too. We’re all human. We all share the same emotions and confusion about life, and nobody really has it all figured out.

When I was younger, I thought I’d be married and settled down by 23, and here I am, still finding my way,” Moya admits. “I still feel like a teenager, really. I don’t understand council tax or any of the rest of it, but we can all connect in our confusion to some degree. Life is a huge learning curve, and we’re all students.”

“I’ve also come to learn how crucial the people I have around me are to my general wellbeing. I’ve started caring a lot more about who I spend my time with. The people I have in my life now are so important to me and my happiness, and I’m so much more grateful for that because I never used to have a solid group of friends. I know there are people I can call when I’m stressed or low and that stops me

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from slipping back into a bad place,” Moya explains.

“It’s weird being a model, too. People act differently around me when they find out what I do for work. I’m not sure why, whether it’s a jealousy thing or something else, but people just react strangely to it sometimes. That can make it a lot harder to find meaningful connections with others, so I’m glad I have my core group of friends,” she continues. “I think people assume that I just sit around and get fed grapes while people take my picture, but it’s hard work - physically and mentally.”

Rounding off our conversation, Moya reflects on how important it is to have a strong sense of self when going into the modelling industry - or in any industry, for that matter.

“I’ve learned how important it is to say no when you’re uncomfortable doing something rather than people-pleasing. If you don’t want to do something, don’t do it. It’s as simple as that. You have to set boundaries in all areas of your life, whether as a model or not.”

“We’re all so connected online, but sometimes we just need to unplug and take some time to be in nature, away from everything,” she continues. Often, connection isn’t just about building links with others, but working to strengthen the relationship we have with ourselves. Moya and I agree that few things are as important as connecting with who we truly are, whether as a model, entrepreneur or anything else. And finding more of it is more crucial now than ever to our long-term success, wellbeing and happiness.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Adrian Drew

L O C AT I O N

Birmingham, UK

MODELS

Ellis Lawrie

Managing Imposter Syndrome as a Music Producer INTERVIEWER: ADRIAN DREW I N T E R V I E W E E : E L L I S L AW R I E

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rowing up together, Ellis and I had never anticipated the journeys we’d both find ourselves on later in life. At thirteen years old, Ellis a bassist and me a drummer, we’d sit in the conservatory of my family home and record covers to songs by our favourite artists. It was our thing for a while. There, we’d often wonder how we’d ever be able to make livings as creatives. It seemed impossible. Now, several years later, Ellis has gone on to achieve astounding success as an electronic music producer, and here I am writing his interview for my magazine.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Ellis reflects as we sit alongside each other near his new home in Wapping, London. “Imagine if somebody had walked into that conservatory back then and told us that nine years later, we’d be here. Both

living in London, both spending every day doing what we love.”

Life’s funny like that. You picture a path for your future in your head, expecting the road to be straight when actually it meanders left, right and sometimes in a complete circle. But ultimately, most of us end up in the right place - even if that place isn’t where we expected it to be. That’s certainly been my experience, anyway. But for Ellis, music has always been in his blood. There was never any doubt that his future would be in the production industry.

I’ll always remember the first time Ellis showed me something he’d produced. We’d both decided to study music at GCSE level, and part of our course required us to create orchestral pieces online using an online music sequencing platform. All I’d ever really known was drums. Notation, chord progressions and all the rest of it were totally beyond me.

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“As always, it's crucial to me that I remain authentic to what I like and believe in. Fusing tech and software with raw musicality is and always has been my thing.”

A Q U O T E B Y E L L I S L AW R I E

I thought Ellis was just as lost as I was until I had a chance to listen to one of the pieces he’d produced. It was incredible. Despite us only ever playing pop-punk and alternative rock in our small high school band, Ellis smashed it out of the park with next to no experience in that field. And that’s when I knew. Music was his thing.

Since then, Ellis has blown up. From playing international shows with some of the world’s biggest names in electronic music to signing a publishing deal and receiving many millions of listens on his tracks, his successes keep getting bigger and bigger. It’s rare for an up and coming artist to make it in today’s ruthless industry, but it’s no surprise to me that Ellis has reached the astounding heights he has.

Part of the reason for this, Ellis thinks, is due to his unique style. “As you know, Adrian, we started in the whole band scene early on.

With multiple instruments and creatives, the raw musicality was far more present there.

When I delved into electronic music, I felt that that was lacking somewhat,” he explains.

“That’s what led me to try and incorporate more instruments into dance tracks - which is how it used to be in the early 2000s. I was obsessed with that era. It was super musical

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and quite complex, artists like Daft Punk, Justice, Zero 7 and Air leading the way - all huge inspirations of mine.”

Since his early days as a producer, a large amount of Ellis’s work has involved attending production sessions with other artists. He recalls his travels throughout Norway in 2019, creating music alongside a range of different artists. “A lot of the tracks from my first EP came from there. From then on, I continued to bring in a lot more live instrumentation and started getting this buzz from songwriting.

Soon after, I was lucky enough to land a publishing deal, allowing me to really take things to the next level. I really fell in love with making music without an agenda - creating songs outside of my typical style.”

Annoyingly for Ellis, his career in music really began to boom just as the COVID-19 pandemic hit. Forced indoors, the only option for him was to resort to Zoom sessions in order to produce alongside other artists as before. Regardless of the challenges, Ellis’s message never changed. “As always, it’s crucial to me that I remain authentic to what I like and believe in,” he explains. “Fusing tech and software with raw musicality is and always has been my thing.”

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Delving a little deeper into the aforementioned challenges, Ellis opens up on the difficulties he’s faced. “Definitely this year, the biggest obstacle for me has been overcoming imposter syndrome,” he explains. For those who aren’t aware, imposter syndrome is simply the pervasive feeling that you’re not good enough to be where you are - as if the successes awarded to you have been delivered to the wrong person. I feel it sometimes, too. I ask myself: why have I of all people been given the opportunity to own and run Mind Cafe? Why not somebody else?

That’s imposter syndrome, and we all have to deal with it from time to time.

“When I started to receive more recognition for my work from bigger people, I was always questioning myself. What’s so good about my work? Why wouldn’t they choose somebody else?” Ellis explains. “Being in a recording session with somebody new every day, you come across a lot of very talented producers and instrumentalists. While I play bass, live music isn’t my best skill. I’ll meet incredible pianists, guitarists and everything else and sit and wonder why I’ve been given opportunities over such sensationally talented people.”

Asking Ellis how he overcame said imposter syndrome, he admits that he actually hasn’t.

“It’s got better, though,” he says. “I try really hard now to actually listen and take on board the compliments I receive rather than just palming them away all the time. Before, I’d be praised on my production but lament that I couldn’t play the piano, or drums, or whatever else. Now I just try to focus on my strengths - the things I’m truly good at and passionate about. I’ll never be a master of everything,

and that’s okay.”

Dealing with rejection is another difficulty not just for artists, but for each and every one of us. “I definitely feel that too,” Ellis admits.

“I think most people in my industry have that same fear of rejection, mainly because it’s so prevalent. Music is really so subjective, and not everybody is going to like your sound. Even if I really like something I’ve produced, a negative comment could easily make me think it’s rubbish. It’s important to understand, however, that your successes have happened for a reason. While luck is certainly a factor too, it can’t all be accidental. You have to give yourself some credit. Keeping that in mind when facing rejection can help me to remember that, despite what others say, I have the right to feel confident and assured in my abilities, as does everyone else.”

Rounding off our conversation, Ellis highlights the importance of connection in dealing with any obstacles on the journey towards success. “When I started to meet new people, I’d be so paranoid about what their intentions were. I didn’t know if people were just speaking with me to get ahead in the music industry. Perhaps it’s linked to the imposter syndrome,” he reflects. “I don’t know.”

“In a way, I’ve definitely struggled to build connections. In terms of music, though, it’s often easier because you always have common ground with the people you meet, he continues.

“And maybe that’s the key. Finding ways to relate with the people you meet. It reminds us that we’re all human, ultimately, and we’re all seeking to connect. It really is that simple”

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Sean Newton

L O C AT I O N

Soho, London

MODELS

Gemma Steele

Finding New Colours to Paint With: The Importance of Severing Connections AUTHOR: GEMMA STEELE

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e are made up of the people we meet and the experiences we have: the jobs we take, the lessons we learn, the people we love, the people we meet, the schools we attend, the hobbies we try. It is these people and experiences that put the being into ‘human being’.

They colour us in, give us dimensions and character.

Without them, we’d be just an outline or an empty vessel.

Of course, some people and experiences change our landscapes almost totally imperceptibly, while others are as intrinsic to our being as a vital organ. Modelling, for me, was more like the latter.

I was first scouted to be a model when I was just thirteen: a lanky, naïve teenager, as impressionable as playdoh. It’s a funny age to get caught up in an industry like the modelling industry. Thirteen-year-olds have a fragile adult essence about them. Like pottery that’s yet to be fired, the form is there, the intention is there, the purpose is there - but it’s so malleable, so delicate, so breakable.

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So I guess it’s unsurprising that, at that formative age, modelling became a part of me.

The modelling industry is hinged on aesthetics, so I became hinged on aesthetics too. I compared myself to every other girl or woman I saw, and mirrors became an opportunity to deprecate and criticise myself. Modelling was a part of me, but it was a part of me that was riddled with pressure and feelings of inadequacy. In retrospect, the hold that I allowed the modelling industry to have over me is terrifying. I remember looking in a mirror and seeing an overweight reflection. Modelling was such a powerful part of me that it warped my mindset, but also my vision.

It took me two years to realise the industry was damaging. It took me a further eight years to break away from it. It was only in my final year of modelling, at the much more learned age of twenty-two, that my mum asked me why I still modelled when I didn’t need to. The only reply I had was “I don’t know who I’ll be without it.”

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“I think reluctance to cut connections comes from a place of fear. There is safety in familiarity.”

A Q U OT E BY G E M M A ST E E L E

My connection to modelling had become so strong that, even though it wasn’t serving me or benefitting me, it was hard to break. Connection is important, but in its shadow is the importance of cutting connections.

I think our reluctance to cut connections comes from a place of fear. There is safety in familiarity. This mindset is one that many know too well: it has imprisoned people in toxic relationships, mediocre jobs and disappointing social circles. We are so quick to synonymise comfort with adequacy because it is terrifying to think of what lies outside of it. And, in this day and age, it’s more than insular anxieties too. When I realised that the modelling industry was toxic, I didn’t know who I’d be without it, but more importantly (for a millennial), I also didn’t know who other people would think I’d be without it. Both social and insular angst buried and muddied the potential benefit of cutting connections.

I had flirted with quitting modelling several times before it became final. I would tell my family and friends I was quitting; I would even sometimes get as far as telling my agents that I was quitting. But, within a few months, I’d

have found a new agency and a new supply of denial to call upon. It was something concerningly akin to Stockholm Syndrome.

In the end, I quitted with an Instagram post. In what is quite possibly the epitome of millennial existence, an Instagram post felt like the only way I could cleanly break the connection. I exposed and publicised every significant negative experience I’d had in the industry. I detailed the times I was told I was too ‘big to model’, the times I was paid in ‘exposure’ rather than money, the times the amount of makeup plastered over my face gave me an allergic reaction, the times I was harassed or taken advantage of. It was scathing.

If I were a brave enough person, I wouldn’t need to publish a scornful Instagram post, but what I needed was to sever that connection; what I needed was for people to hold me accountable; what I needed was to make it so that I couldn’t go back. In a lot of ways, I didn’t sever the connection, I just consciously made sure that no professional in the modelling industry would ever work with me again. I effectively passed the buck.

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But despite what it might seem, at its core, breaking any connection is really about prioritising a different connection: a connection with oneself.”

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But despite what it might seem, at its core, breaking any connection is really about prioritising a different connection: a connection with oneself. The quality or method of how I broke my connection with modelling is almost entirely irrelevant. What is relevant is the fact I valued my well-being. More recently, I’ve spoken to people at the end of their working lives about severing connections that don’t serve them anymore. The phrase ‘losing connection’ kept cropping up. These people could relate to the idea behind letting go in a similar way to me, and they too had dropped connections that no longer benefitted them; however, they hadn’t severed connections because they valued their self-worth, they had merely gotten to a point where they stopped caring. They hadn’t severed connections; they had let them dissolve. It was less about righteousness and more about indifference.

Suddenly, despite my fear of what lay ahead, I was pleased I had chosen to brazenly sever my negative connections rather than reaching a similar state of defeat.

As predicted, I didn’t know who I was without modelling. I felt uninteresting without it, and changing

the way I saw my own body did not happen overnight.

However, that absence of familiarity carried an unexpected freshness. Not knowing wholly who you are gives you space to explore new corners of yourself.

Blank canvases aren’t redundant; they are an untapped resource. With the connection to modelling gone, I found new colours to paint with, textures to revisit. For me, that colour was feminism, and that texture was getting back into writing.

While our experiences accumulate to make up our current character, severing my connection to modelling reminded me that we functioned just fine before every experience or person. It might have been a different way of functioning, but it was functioning all the same.

We are made up of the people we ignore and the experiences we avoid: the jobs we quit, the lessons we forget, the people we dislike, the schools we leave, the hobbies we give up. It is these acts of resistance and courage that put the being into ‘human being’. There is beauty in connection, but there is bravery in breaking away from it.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Mathilde Langevin

L O C AT I O N

Montreal, Canada

MODELS

Gabrielle Lavoie

Why Loneliness Can Hurt as Bad as Being Punched in the Face AUTHOR: ED CUNNINGHAM

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f there was one thing above all else that has been instrumental to the evolution of humankind, it would be connection. Thousands of years ago, without it, you’d have had no tribe - meaning you’d have been cast out to survive on your own, where your chances of doing so would be slim. Without connection to ourselves and our conscious mind, we’d never have learned from our mistakes. Just because these connections are not tangible or even visible, that doesn’t mean they are not two of the most important things in your life.

As Neitzsche said “Invisible threads are the strongest ties.”

The last year or so has shown that connection is just as important now as it has been throughout history. We may no longer be in danger of death if we’re cast aside by our tribe, but we are still in danger of diminishing our mental health in the absence of healthy relationships. The dangers are different, and maybe not as catastrophic, but a lack of

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connection still poses an enormous threat to our general health and wellbeing.

This wasn’t always obvious to me. I used to have a habit of isolating myself whenever I felt depressed, feeling that it would be better not to show up at all than to show up and not be at my best. I thought it was better to battle it alone and save others the burden of dealing with my low-mood. I, of course, was wrong.

I know now that I wasn’t alone in that habit.

My generation, the ones who have the highest recorded mental health issues in history, are also being called the loneliest generation yet.

There is a direct link between the two issues.

We could blame the internet. The internet was supposed to connect the world, but it’s become clear that, paradoxically, it has done the opposite. We crave human interaction.

When we don’t have that, our mental health deteriorates rapidly. As Johann Hari says in his brilliant book Lost Connections “The difference between being online and being physically among people, I saw in that

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“As amazing as it feels to have a strong connection to your friends and community, even when I had both, I still couldn't help but feel like something was missing.”

A Q U OT E BY E D C U N N I N G H A M

moment, is a bit like the difference between pornography and sex: it addresses a basic itch, but it’s never satisfying.”

In the early chapters of that book, the author cites a study conducted by John Cacioppo from the early 90’s that looks at the link between loneliness and stress hormones.

He found that ‘feeling deeply lonely seemed to cause as much stress as being punched in the face by a stranger’.

Having experienced both myself, I’m not really sure which I’d prefer. But, because I haven’t read any self-defence books, let’s look at the antidote to loneliness. Namely, the way we treat others.

To build lasting connections that impact the communities around us, we have to look in the mirror and assess how we treat others. It took me a while to realise this. When I was younger I, like many of us who have been groomed by a capitalist society, believed that there was no point in ‘duty for duty’s sake’ (this was much to my mum’s dismay). We should all be rewarded fairly for our contributions, right? Wrong.

As Samuel Johnson, one of the pioneers of English Literature in the 1700’s, said ‘The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good’. I’m not one for 1700’s literature, but I came across Johnson’s quote in Give and Take by Adam Grant. The book looks at the personality traits of givers, takers and matchers. We all fall into one of those categories, and

unsurprisingly, it’s the ones who give the most in life who rise to the top. True givers have stronger networks, higher incomes and report higher levels of happiness than takers and matchers.

It’s no secret that giving can strengthen your connection to those around you. After all, who doesn’t like someone who helps them? Moreover, if being liked isn’t enough, givers also report higher levels of overall happiness than matchers and takers. Even if it isn’t ‘duty for duty’s sake’, giving can not only improve your connectedness to those around you, but make you a happier person, too.

As amazing as it feels to have a strong connection to your friends and community, even when I had both, I still couldn’t help but feel something was missing. For me, that was intimate, romantic love. Like many of my fellow millennials, I decided a while ago to label myself as ‘damaged goods’. I’d chosen intimacy issues as my preferred synonym to make myself sound a little bit fancier. That was all until I read The Mastery Of Love by Don Miguel Ruiz. Drawing on the wisdom of the Toltecs is not something I thought I’d do in life. What would they know, anyway? They didn’t even have Wikipedia. But there is, however, something timeless and worth paying attention to about the philosophies of old. Namely, lessons on love and compassion.

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One of the most important passages from the book that finally allowed me to start making more intimate connections was this: �Why are you shopping for a dog when you want a cat?�” A Q U OT E BY E D C U N N I N G H A M

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“After all, how can you connect to a community of like-minded people if you aren't connected to who you actually are?”

A Q U OT E BY E D C U N N I N G H A M

One of the most important passages from the book that finally allowed me to start making more intimate connections was this. ‘Why are you shopping for a dog when you want a cat?’ I feel the internet is to blame (again) for my generation’s inability to form lasting, loving, connections. You’re bombarded by hundreds, if not thousands of potential suitors any time you open a dating app, and this induces a significant degree of choice paralysis. When there’s too much in front of you for you to be able to make a decision, it’s much more difficult to choose. And even if you do choose, you’ll probably change your mind later, curious as to what would’ve happened had you taken a different route or swiped right on somebody else.

I digress. Let’s get back to that weird question: why would you shop for a dog when you want a cat? If you can’t get to know and understand what it is you require in your relationships, your romantic connections will pay the price. Reading The Mastery of Love forced me to work out whether I wanted a dog or a cat, hypothetically speaking. I wanted a dog.

Really, though, this might seem a little frivolous if you don’t truly know who you are. After all, how can you connect to a community of like-minded people, or be able

to enter a loving companionship, if you aren’t connected to who you actually are as a person? One of the most uncomfortable but best things I’ve ever done to get to know myself has been going to therapy. The questions you face in front of a therapist will break down any barriers you have with your ego and help you get to the seat of your soul. But it’s not available to everyone. Luckily, there are ways you can do the work without sitting in front of an actual therapist, Dr Nicole LePera’s book, How to Do the Work, is a fantastic way to get started.

The book explores healing from trauma, recognizing your self-defeating patterns and learning how to create yourself. Being disconnected from yourself looks a little like being on autopilot, which works well for some because it’s comfortable - minus the odd breakdown. But attempting to overcome your ego is one of the most rewarding journeys you’ll ever undertake. Finding yourself has become somewhat of a dirty phrase nowadays (thanks largely to the gap year explorers). Being held back from this journey because of the cliche that’s been attached is sad, since self-exploration opens the door to connectedness. And that’s what we’re missing. Almost all of us. Because above everything, connection has and always will be the key whether we’re in an ancient tribe or modern-day office.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Joseph Marchant

L O C AT I O N

Wilderness Festival

MODELS

Various

Creatures of Wilderness AUTHOR: GEMMA STEELE

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hroughout the pandemic, connection, for a lot of people, disappeared completely. I’ve found it quite difficult to articulate the reality of it all, perhaps because, in my experience, it wasn’t terrible, but it was far from brilliant too. When the novelty of lockdown wore off, it left an almost desolate nothingness behind: a quiet loneliness and a lonely quietness. Even the retreat of coronavirus has been strange; it’s been accompanied by an apprehension, a cautiousness around reconnecting. Socialising suddenly carries this new sense of weight and significance: it is somewhat thrilling, but entirely exhausting.

Preparing to attend a festival post-corona felt a little like preparing for a triathlon (or, rather, how I imagine one might prepare for a triathlon): there were the frequent weather forecast checks, with outfits constantly changing accordingly; there were the trial late nights to acclimatise to festi-lifestyle; and, of course, the preparational carbloading the nights before. I felt this uneasy excitement, the kind I used to get on the first day of school, or on a first date, caught somewhere between anticipation and dread.

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Wilderness was like the homecoming dance for connection.

Socialising maintained its significance but abandoned its sense of effort. I slotted back into socialising seamlessly, but with this renewed appreciation for the people that surrounded me.

What struck me most was the variety of people I met across the weekend: men, women and children from a myriad of cultures and walks of life, all united by a passion for music, wellbeing, theatre and food. It was magical. Even conversations with people in the queue for the portaloos (of which there were many) carried a level of ethereal charm. So often, we allow ourselves to be boxed in by age, gender, sexuality, culture, race: rarely acquainting ourselves with the stories that lie beyond. The openness of Wilderness changed that.

Smalltalk evolved into friendships, and friendships were cemented into something stronger. Wilderness was a festival, but in 2021, it couldn’t help but represent so much more. From wild water swimming with thousands of other people at dawn, to watching a secret burlesque show at midnight, Wilderness was a reminder of the power of connection. More still, it was a reminder of the vital necessity of connection. We weren’t built to be solitary creatures; we were built to be a part of something greater, part of a community.

And, as far as communities go, Wilderness was a stonker.

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“Connection means not being alone, feeling a part of something.”

GABRIELLE GREENALL

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“Connection just means coming together and having a good tie.

Marriage is the most unreal connection. He is my ride or die. I know that. Sometimes you meet people and you just know. It’s a weird feeling but I have never been so sure about anything.”

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“Connection is important because we can’t survive on our own.

We’re not designed to be able to be on our own and not be able to communicate and to support each other. It’s vital.”

JULIA DEANE

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“Connection is a tie between two things, but it can be physical or emotional. Connection is how you build stories.”

ROSS STERLING

C R E AT U R E S O F W I L D E R N E S S

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“Connection is about humility, and being able to offer yourself up.

It’s about having the willingness to immediately find common ground and be interested in other people’s stories. It’s about arriving at something that feels common and shared, without any prejudice.”

BELLA THOMPSON

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Afterword AUTHOR: ADRIAN DREW

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onnection, as we know, is vital to our mental health and wellbeing no matter who or where we are. As Ed so eloquently demonstrated, a lack of social interaction can, quite literally, feel like a punch in the face. Or to revisit Rosie’s story, connecting with others can be the saviour we need to pull us even from the darkest of depths.

In my personal experiences, I know I’d be well and truly broken without those dearest to me. Suffering the loss of my fiancée to brain cancer back in 2019 highlighted the sheer importance of my social circle - something I hadn’t appreciated nearly as much before. If it wasn’t for the help of my wonderful family and incredible friends, I don’t

know where I’d be today. I certainly wouldn’t be here writing these words. And yet, with connection, I was able to move past the loss and weather the grief that ensued.

An extrovert through and through, connection is unquestionably something I struggle without. My energy comes from interacting with others - and, in honesty, I rely on connection perhaps more than I’d like to. I’d prefer sometimes to be able to sit happily in a room on a Friday evening alone with a book, and I definitely can. But most often, I prefer to be around others, out in social environments and having new conversations. It’s as Gemma demonstrated: connection can indeed become a vice, too. Yet without it, I’d be lost.

We must learn to navigate connection using our own personal compass - the one that enables us to measure when we need to connect and when we need to be alone.”

A Q U OT E BY A D R I A N D R E W

A F T E RWO R D

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PHOTOGRAPHY

Joseph Marchant

L O C AT I O N

Hyde Park

MODELS

Spencer Elmer

Edition three of Mind Cafe magazine taught us all that balance is critical in all facets of life, and the same is true of connection. We must learn to navigate it using our own personal compass - the one that enables us to measure when we need to connect and when we need to be alone.

When Joe, Gemma and myself were fortunate enough to be invited to the Wilderness Festival, sometimes we just needed our alone time. All that wonderful chaos and the thousands of people, though incredible, could quickly

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become exhausting. Balance is key.

But connection doesn’t have to be as extreme as this.

We can find it in all facets of life. A smile at a stranger on the tube, a friendly conversation over the shop counter or deep heart-to-hearts with those we love - it’s these small, beautiful moments that accentuate the sheer power of social interaction. And so, as we emerge from over a year of isolation, let’s all make an effort to connect. I’m sure the world would be a better place if we did.

PHOTOGRAPHY

Joe Marchant

L O C AT I O N

Cornwall, England

ON BEING PRESENT

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MIND CAFE - ISSUE 4 £11.99

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