The Croft. 6: Lucid

LUCID 6

The Croft Issue 6 LUCID

We are living in an age

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characterised by constant C H A N G E

Welcome back to the 6th issue of the Croft. In a world imbued with a lack of clarity and consistent change, we want to highlight both the groudning nature of the tangible, and explore our relationship with the lesser known: unintelligible concepts that we encounter in our daily lives.

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1. expressed clearly; easy to understand 2. bright or luminous 3. (of a dream) experienced with the dreamer feeling awake, aware of dreaming, and

We’re focusing simultaneously on the known and the unknown, past and new beginnings, stagnancy and growth, regression and progression, epiphany and meditation. Seek to have conversations about what you thought you knew.

We hope you can find solace, or maybe an awakening, in our lucidity.

Emily & Nicole x

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Words by Wilfred Kemsley, Creative Writing Columnist

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The Croft/ Kirkland

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Digital Editor Lara Inglis Jones Deputy Editor Saiba Haque Editor Hannah Wright

AND WE’RE IN THE

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Dangerously Far and All Forig 5 12

The Croft/ Kirkland

The prospect of liminality may be defined as ‘occupying a posi- FOOD. tion at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold’, but in an Editor: Saiba Haque era which has been characterised by a sense of the heimlich- to borrow from our German friends . The familiar nature of isola- Deputy Editor: Maya Glantz tion and the solitary mean that the word has now become moreDigital Editor: Emma Witham associated with the idea of ‘liminal spaces’.

Across the internet, in the form of both real and fashioned images, ‘liminal spaces’can be found. On various social media platforms, users post contextless eerie pictures and videos that attempt to capture a state of being in-between: at once the unknown but inexplicably familiar. Children’s public swimming pools, suburban towns and empty offices make up just a portion of the vast array of ‘backrooms’ that exist online, with the attempt of conjuring simultaneous unease and comfort in their viewer, always garnering a reaction that seems so visceral, and yet remains almost unanimous. Their universal compelling nature lies, undoubtedly, in their creepiness, so why, then, is the aestheticism of liminal spaces seeing such a surge in popularity online?

Positioning themsleves amongst feeds and pages full of subcultures and microtrends, perhaps it is, in fact, that liminal spaces have a particular resonance with our current mode of being: they represent the strange solace of being on the threshold of monumental change- a moment of transition. And, no doubt, we are living in an age that is underpinned by a feeling of rapid transition.Where decades bygone are often conceptualised in their entriety by a paricular image, sound, or feeling, the most recent few years have felt, at times, like a near excruciating explosion of everything all at once. A multitude of culture, innovation , technology and trends, the frenzy with which the world has returned to productivity can, when conceptualised, amalgamate as phsycial strain and tension, like pent up energy needing to be displaced. Liminal spaces appeal to this, offering a physical manifestiation for us to relate this struggle to.

There are, of course, real, tangeable reasons for why an impending sense of radical change is present, even if subtle, in most of us. But, as is often the case, it is perhaps easier to identify with a general feeling amongst the entire population in the present day, that something, though we are not sure what, is about to happen. Or perhaps that something should happen.

It could be then, that the dichotomy of stagnancy and progression which liminal spaces epitomise, reflect our growing sense of dissatisfaction and paralysis in the world: anxieties that systems of labor and public health and politics are broken, but how do we change this? These spaces serve as, if uncomfortable, a reminder, of how small we may be.

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Words By Nicole Quy, Co-Editor-in-Chief

Regardless, liminal spaces seem to acknowledge that the world is in a state of transition, and therefore so are we. Many of us seem to feel that the pace of our lives is becoming harder and harder to keep up with, and yet reality feels unnervingly unchanged.

And so, as we wait for a precognitive turning point to come, liminal spaces make the anticipation of our anxieties, excitement, and general restlessness visible, and reaffirm, through their ubiquity, that others are looking at the world the same way.

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I’VE ALWAYS SEEN PERSONAL STYLE AS COLLAGE. A collection of moments, pieces and influences

that build together to form what you wear and how you wear it. Therefore, when it comes to style inspirations the list could be endless. It’s almost impossible to pin down one individual from a singular era who embodies who you are and what you wear.

So, while I must reassure you that my inspirations are endless, after much deliberation and research (aka Pinterest scrolling) I came to a decision of the wardrobe I would raid. And who else could it be but Jane Birkin herself?

Her 70s British-gone-Parisian style is the perfect balance between classy and risqué that makes for timeless pieces that I would happily steal today.

Birkin has subverted the expectations of style by the way she uses more unconventional items. Despite the iconic Hermès bag beWord sb ing named after her, Birkin yR had a similarly infamous bag; one that was a little more budget friendly.

Her iconic wicker basket went everywhere with her. No matter the formality or practicality of it for wherever she was, the basket was always spotted on her arm. Claiming that the use of the basket was due to how normal women’s bags weren’t big enough, Birkin used the basket to enforce practicality into her outfits. Paring it with a classically chic fur-coat, we see how Birkin gorgeously combines the classy with the convenient.

Her evening wear was just as revolutionary and iconic. Birkin’s dress for a French film premier places her with other icons Kate Moss and Marilyn Monroe in the competition for most iconic (almost) naked dresses of all time. Loosely accessorised with flowing hair, hippy-style necklaces and the iconic basket bag, Birkin blurs the line between formal and casual – her originally simple outfits becoming unforgettable.

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The carefree, summery hippy style of the 60s and 70s was also clear in Birkin’s wardrobe. Combining delicate white tops and bootcut jeans with sturdier heels and chunky belts, Birkin creates a perfect blend of style.

Expertly mixing hippy with Parisian city chic. It is this simplicity in her outfits add to the timeless effect, making her wardrobe to desirable even 50 years on.

Of course, it’s impossible to talk about Jane Birkin’s covetable wardrobe staples without talking about her personal Birkin bag. With the average Birkin bag costing around $26,000, most owners keep theirs in the most pristine of conditions. Birkin however has a different attitude. Overflowing with personal possessions, charms, stickers and scarves, Jane’s puts an eclectic spin on a classically reserved bag. Designed by Hermès executive Jean-Louis Dumas, he made the bag at Birkin’s request, after she asked for a bigger version of The Kelly that would actually fit all of her personal accoutrements.

Her name itself represents so much. The Birkin Bag is one of the most iconic staples of luxury design; her influence is carved all over the fashion world.

And this quite perfectly sums up why Jane Birkin’s style is so appealing; it is both aesthetically gorgeous and, at the end of the day, really quite practical too.

NFTS: The Future of Fashion?

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Words by Emily Fromant Alo Yoga, which has announced that buyers of last year’s Aspen collection can claim a free ‘Digital Twin’ NFT. Legacy Fashion houses have also gotten involved, with NFT fashion becoming a staple in the 2021 Paris Fashion Week. Last year, Gucci sold its first-ever NFT called “Aria” for $25,000 through Christie’s in the form of digital art and a video clip of a runway show by Gucci’s creative director Alessandro Michele. Whilst it can be difficult to understand the purpose of NFTs, it is clear there is a market for them.

Fashion has always heralded innovation. Designers like Issey Miyake and Alexander McQueen are known for their immersive, experimental runways. However, as fashion becomes virtual, are designers losing sight of who their audience really is?

AI become a popular topic in the fashion industry recently. With NFT fashion houses popping up left and right. The idea of ‘digital fashion’ is nothing new.

For many of us, it was introduced during childhood by beloved video games. But lately, the fashion world has been getting on board, with both Burberry and Louis Vuitton creating their own through NFT video game avatars and skins. In 2023, it is clear digital fashion is going nowhere. In fact, it’s expanding. AR fashion houses are becoming their own established entities with virtual fashion that you can buy and superimpose on yourself through your phone for the ultimate selfie.

Brands are already investing big in digital fashion through the current craze for NFTs, which translates to ‘non-fungible-token’. Essentially is it digital assets (like a drawing) that represent real-world objects that can be bought and owned virtually. The latest fashion house to get in on the trend is the athleisure brand Fashionhouses have also gotten involved, with NFT fashion becoming a staple in the 2021 Paris Fashion Week. Last year, Gucci sold its first-ever NFT called “Aria” for $25,000 through Christie’s in the form of digital art and a video clip of a runway show by Gucci’s creative director Alessandro Michele. Whilst it can be difficult to understand the purpose of NFTs, it is clear there is a market for them.

The Croft/Emily Fromant

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I have spoken to various digital fashion designers and NFT fashion houses and can see the merit of NFT fashion.

It can feel easy to feel estranged from this direction of fashion, many of us don’t see the practical purpose in clothing that can only be accessed virtually.

However, for many artists and designers, the ‘metaverse’ (as it’s called) is a source of hope. It creates boundless opportunities. NFT use a process of royalties that results in a stream of income for the designer.

Whilst, physical art is a one-time transaction, NFTs can create a more reliable, long-term income.

However, as regular consumers NFT fashion feels like some sort of ‘twilight zone’. My favourite part of fashion is sharing clothing with my friends, and having memories attached to certain outfits. NFT fashion can feel superficial, the only memorable moments that can happen with these items of clothing is through our phone. Whilst I can appreciate the creativity of NFT fashion, unfortunately, I think I’ll stick to non-virtual fashion for now.

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STYLE

Editor: Molly Grogan Deputy Editor: Mia Flook Digital Editor: Amy Marshall Sub-Editor: Bea Buchanan-Lee

Iris Van Herpen: FW22 Words by Sophie Brassey

No one does Haute Couture quite like Iris Van Herpen. Each runway engulfs you in a world that transcends normality; her gowns bloom an organic presence which only becomes more captivating with each show. Van Herpen doesn’t just make clothes. She brings to life stories from her atelier in Amsterdam, each dress coming alive like some mythical creature.

The Croft/ Emily Fromant

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Her recent FW 22 collection took inspiration from Greek Mythology, whose characters were stretched out and distorted into 16 beautiful looks.

The runway is named ‘Metamorphosis’ after Ovid’s Epic poem, and has to be my favourite collection yet. I’m detailing my favourite looks from the show and the incredible story behind them.

med The show’s opening look, na s“genesis”, is created from su leaf tainable off-white banana gold fabric and green satin with s are embellishments. Two fabric hung over a ortsee-through corset, as if eff l. Its lessly slung over the mode n” igi name, translating to “or first in Greek, is fitting for the gown. Draping k garreferences the ancient Gree fashment ‘Chiton’, which was can see we ioned with pins. Here, ble Van Herpen’s use of sustaina ich and innovative fabrics, wh out is a constant theme through inisthe show. This dress is rem ddesscent of Greek gods and go e dress es - the gold glaze gives th ial a holy feel, as if the mater w. itself is radiating a warm glo ck White ribbons stitched into bla face glass-organza panels show the of Narcissus. The dress tells the mulstory of Narcissus through the the tiple beautiful faces sewn into the garment two panels sandwich rcismodel’s face, metaphoric of Na sion sus being trapped in an obses nof his own beauty. The suspe body sion of the garment from the f due reflects losing your sense of sel trast to self-obsession, and the con how of the colouring is symbolic of contradictory this may seem.

The show’s final gown was based on the tragic love story of Apollo and Daphne. The dress, created from transparent white silk, is framed by laser-cut leaves. We can see the exact moment Daphne transforms herself into a laurel tree; foliage grows from the models hands, and wraps around her ankles. Much like Daphne was imprisoned by Apollo’s lust, the dress traps its wearer. The angelic gown appreciates Ovid’s sinister yet beautiful poem Traditionally, the final looks in Haute Couture shows are reserved for wedding gowns.

By saving this last look for a white dress Van Hepren questions our long-established views on relationships, reminding us that love stories do not always end with a happily ever after..

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DINING WITH DALI...

Craving a “Bush of crayfish in Viking herbs”? Fancy a “Leg of lamb shot with Madiera”? Maybe you’ve had a long day and need some good old-fashioned “Eels with Beer”. You know, classic , comfort food.

Words By Oscar Ross

136 similarly chaotic recipes lie beneath the ornate cover of Salvador Dali’s Les Dîners de Gala, a surrealist cookbook ranging from the genuinely delicious-sounding to the “why, please no, this is disgusting, stop”. Dedicated to his wife, Gala, the original book was published in 1973, and printed in only 400 copies. This limited release left the cookbook in a position of extreme rarity and cult following, eventually leading to its re-publishing by Taschen in 2016. It is this revived version of Dali’s culinary mania that lies open beside me, Dali’s illustrations of reverse mermaid trout and horror scapes of the uglier side of the digestive system looking up at me.Before you read on, I’ll give you the fair warning that Dali gave his readers:

“If you are a disciple of one of those calorie-counters who turn the joys of eating into a form of punishment, close this book at once; it is too lively, too aggressive, and far too impertinent for you”.

- Salvador Dalì, Les Dîners de Gala Now, this book isn’t all weird, it is also wonderful, with the main barrier being the old-fashioned nature of the recipes.

Granted, some are more surrealist in their method and presentation, I’m looking at you “Frog Cream” and “Peacock à l’Impériale dressed and surrounded by its court”, these are recipes by the way, not early 2000’s emo album titles.

Dali’s recipes are based on Nouvelle Cuisine, a culinary style that was increasingly popular in Northern Spain in the ’70s, and were designed to be made for Salvador and Gala’s insanely weird “parties”. The couple’s famous gatherings featured exotic animals roaming the room such as Babou, Dali’s ocelot house cat, mandatory costumes, plates of weird and wonderful surrealist cooking that line the pages of Les Dîners de Gala and well, some other adult stuff we won’t get into here.

So as you can see, while I may use some of Dali’s weirder recipes to shock and amuse, these are not “joke” or purely artistic recipes. Dali had these dishes cooked for his guests and they actually ate them. Admittedly, I wouldn’t mind a starter of “Escalope of foie gras wrapped in chicken” and I’m not a desert person but I would try a bowl of Dali’s “Old champagne Sherbert”.

The Croft/ Saiba Haque

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Editor: Saiba Haque Deputy Editor: Maya Glantz Digital Editor: Emma Witham

The Croft/ Saiba Haque

...Exploring Salvador Dali’s Surrealist Cookbook The dishes featured on my ideal surrealist menu, alongside many others, are given high-star ratings by Parisian institutes such as Maxim’s de Paris, La Tour d’Argent and Lasserre. These fine-dining powerhouses all pitch in throughout the book to certify Dali’s recipes such as “Truffles “Cinderella” in Flaky Pasty” and “Pheasant Raphael Ravenga”. Not only is this a weirdly legitimate recognition of Dali’s surrealist culinary work by old-school centres of fine dining, but it’s also a heart-warming fulfilment of one of Dali’s childhood dreams:

“At the age of six I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And my ambition has been growing steadily ever since” - Salvador Dali The Secret Life of Salvador Dali (1948)

While the artist’s ambition and eccentrics will never be enough to please his seven-year-old self (which is definitely for the best), Dali does become a cook in this book.

I doubt Dali was ever found on the backline, chopping carrots into weird, most likely sexual shapes, or washing piles of dishes organised in the shape of melting clocks, but he blurs the lines between the art forms of his own surrealism and distinct Nouvelle Cuisine culinary creativity in Les Dîners de Gala.

All in all: This is a really strange book. I want to have a copy with me everywhere I go. Laced with weird recipes, strikingly beautiful and deeply disturbing double-page art spreads, as well as Dali’s continuously nutty comments, it’s certainly an experience I would recommend.

Proceed with caution though, I haven’t even told you about the sequel yet: Wines of Gala, or as I like to call it “Dali 2: More Salvador”.

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On A Tea Trip Words By Emma Witham

Tea, with its long history, spanning continents, is undoubtedly an art. To achieve the best possible results, it calls for a deep understanding of flavours, brewing lengths and serving styles. Bristol, with its relaxed artistry, is therefore well-suited to nurture the craft. I ventured to find the most special the city can offer, in search of tea lucidity.

Society Cafe Following the opening of the second branch of Society Café in Bristol, the tea peddlers have proved nothing if not their popularity. So, rather expectedly, their tea range is wonderfully expansive. The café source their loose-leaf tea from Bath-based tea specialists Tea House Emporium which offer a range of teas, some of which the friendly barista was kind enough to let me smell.

The aromas are warm but not overpowering, so you get a clear sense of flavour without the perfume. I picked a personal favourite just from the smell – a chai. It arrived over to the table swiftly, with the barista recommending I let it brew for some minutes until pouring. As I waited, I got a better sense of the general ambience in the room.

My immediate thought was how youthful it felt, with students and professionals dotted around the room.

The aesthetic is clean teals matched with warm colours of mustard and burnt orange tables, both fresh and autumnal yet clean and sleek. Finally, my tea was ready to which I added milk and sugar before sipping. A favourite touch was the small dish for the tea strainer bag to rest in once you’ve finished brewing, making sure you have near-optimal tea throughout, even if you remain for a while. The flavour exuded warmth immediately, with its hints of cinnamon and cardamom.

The Croft/ Emily Fromant

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FOOD. Bird & Blend A staple on Park Street, Bird & Blend have been supplying tea for years now. They offer what they term the ‘Tea Wall’, which essentially does what it says on the tin. The range is categorised by type, for example, green teas, accompanied with a short description of what notes and aftertastes can be expected from your blend of choice. After a careful selection process, with help from their Tea Mixologist, I opted for Duvet Day – a white tea with jasmine, marketed as relaxing. She very kindly let me smell the loose tea from the can, which sold me instantly. The vegan-friendly tea itself was a light, almost watery colour. The expertise behind this tea is evident in every sip, after being brewed for 3 minutes exactly by the Mixologist. I can only describe this tea to be the liquid equivalent of white goose-feather bedding. It was in no manner overwhelming, yet you could taste all the descriptors detailed.

Hidden in notes underneath, I found relaxing florals. Plus, if you particularly enjoy the tea you selected, you can buy a pouch to take home, which I certainly will go back for. If hot tea isn’t your thing either, they

Editor: Saiba Haque Deputy Editor: Maya Glantz Digital Editor: Emma Witham

provide methods for cold brewing on the back of the packaging as well.

The Croft/ Emily Fromant

Ahh Toots Famed Bristolian cakery, known for their artisanal flavour pairings and aesthetic designs, you may not immediately think of Ahh Toots as a place for tea. Yet, as with everything on offer, they do so wonderfully. Their cosy seating area is one of my favourite interior design artistries anywhere in Bristol, with eclectic tchotchkes littering the bookshelves, against pine green walls and wood detailing. It’s a strictly laptop-free zone too, making its feel all the more bookish. I wanted to opt for an iced tea on this occasion, and currently they only have one option on offer – Melon and Mint. Made in-house, as the vast majority of their products are, you could instantly taste that freshness. It arrived in a highball, showing off its blend of colour, from clear to coral. In its glass, there were densely compacted ice cubes, which, although a seemingly insignificant touch, meant the tea stayed at optimal temperature for longer, retaining the flavour balance. The mint was perfectly weighed, managing not to strangle the melon, instead merging perfectly into a summery freshness. In honesty, this would make the perfect alternative to an alcohol-free mojito.

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WELLBEING.

Editor: Sophia Smith Deputy Editor: Ursula Glendinning Digital Editor: Helen March Sub-Editor: Zara Whistler

Getting Older, Getting Sober

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of drug abuse and suicidal ideation.

The following article contians a detailed account on a serious topic; while we believe this is important to highlight, reader discretion is advised.

In the kitchen of my University accommodation: a couple of flatmates are sitting with their laptops out, crowding the table with loose sheets of equations that they’re swapping back and forth; someone else has returned from their daily gym session and is over at the hob, stirring a tray of 5% fat beef mince into a soon-to-be Bolognese.

I’m plunging my hands into a bag of cheap white rice in my cupboard, rearranging the grains over 6 sleeves of fake Valium that I’m for some reason trying to bury, like a drugged-up rodent depositing its foragings. “Don’t snitch”, I tell the room of teenagers before making my exit, probably to drink myself to sleep.

“Now that I’m sober, my addiction seems slightly ridiculous.”

After I’d outgrown my teacher’s pet’s aversion to the illicit, I regarded my drug use as an “adult problem”. It felt more mature than my adolescent anorexia, and the self-harming habit I’d developed before leaving school in Year 9. Everyone I knew had been through some sort of episode of poor mental health, but to be an addict meant belonging to a different category of fucked up, with its own special level of hard-earned complexity. I looked at my non-dependent acquaintances’ supposed naivety with a feeling somewhere between envy and superiority, suppressing my self-disgust with the consolation that at least I was “experienced”. My sober peers might as well have been children to me - people who’d received the “don’t do drugs” message sit-ting cross-legged on a green-carpeted classroom floor in the 2000s, and then followed that advice into adulthood in blissful, sheepish innocence.

In reality, my intoxicated self was far from wise. I was lucky, not accomplished, to still be getting good feedback on work despite being near-permanently fried, and my routine of smoothing out the rough edges of each day with a risky mix of alcohol and pills was not at all clever or brave.

Nearing the end of my first term at Bristol, a suicide attempt saw me suspended from my studies. Excessive drinking and blood loss from self-harm had left

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me severely anaemic, and the thought of trekking 15 minutes to the Arts Complex, or just down the road to the pharmacy (to collect the taper that I couldn’t bring myself to follow), frequently had me in tears. I was no longer a “functional addict”, an oxymoron that sounded coolly defiant and not entirely undesirable: I was a mess, missing 10am classes to get wine drunk, having housemates help me to the toilet on barely-remembered, undignified evenings on which I apparently couldn’t stand.

I showed up to occasional Socialist Students’ meetings only to leave halfway through, the cravings becoming unbearable.

“I thought a lot about how people manage... I wondered how many of my course-mates must have been crying in bed at odd hours.”

Since getting clean back at home, I’ve gained a renewed appreciation for young people’s resilience. My first few weeks of cessation, in which I could barely eat, was inexplicably sleeping like a baby every night on top of my constant napping (withdrawing from benzodiazepines usually produces restlessness and insomnia), and wanted to die more than ever, were followed by a period of awe and shame. I thought a lot about how people manage, considering the spectacle I’d made of myself whilst living in a flat of 18, 19, 20-something year-olds who’d mostly just moved away from their parents for the first time. They were all dealing with the challenges of the new environment, feeling the full force of independent living and degree-level studies. I wondered how many of my course-mates must have been crying in bed at odd hours like I was, resenting their pasts and uncertain of their futures but determined to keep going, and I felt humiliated by - and then admiring of - their adaptability.

I’ve gone through phases of forgetting just how difficult life is, for everyone, mistaking shining social media profiles and outspokenness in seminars for overall wellbeing.

Particularly in first year, it’s hard not to take people at face value, especially when that means a literal (and impressive) full face of makeup applied only for a lecture on medieval romance poetry, or someone’s perfect, tireless streak of consecutive nights out in Freshers Week. Yet we all have our moments of confusion and stress, and there are more people with problems in their personal lives than people sizzling up their nervous systems on street benzos every night just to survive. The tough-love-style mantra “I’m not special” has offered unexpected guidance in my abstinence; I can’t justify my substance use through self-exceptionalism, convincing myself that my traumas are of a unique magnitude that can only be addressed with vast quantities of tablets I’ve bought over WhatsApp. “I’m not special”, which doesn’t mean that my emotions aren’t valid, but does mean that like everyone else.

“The tough-love-style mantra “I’m not special” has offered unexpected guidance in my abstinence” Now when I remember the semi-nonsensical Instagram stories, I’d put up on my way to blacking out, and the garbled voice notes sent from hospital beds to former colleagues, I try to let my addiction humble rather than embarrass me. I’ve been fortunate in so many aspects of my experience: I haven’t been criminalised, I have a caring mum and stepdad with a house I can stay in. I’m grateful that I’ve been supported to start recovery now rather than losing any more months or money to biochemical chaos.

While it would be reductive to characterise drug dependency as juvenile or selfish, my own desperate conviction that I had to use to stay alive was certainly blindsided.

Getting clean, I’ve rediscovered the extent to which pain can be felt, but also - taking inspiration from Freshers I’ve lived with, some younger than myself, and other students - how to feel and use it properly. Ultimately, coming off benzos has been a lesson in listening to and learning from those around me, knowing that although they might not

feel the pressures of life any less than I do, some of them could well have better ways of dealing withthem. I’ve sobered up: maybe I’ve grown up a bit too.

Words By Jess W

“I’ve rediscovered the extent to which pain can be felt - taking inspiration from Freshers I’ve lived with, some younger than myself, and other students - how to feel and use it properly.”

“ I’ve got to find sustainable ways to cope.”

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The Croft/ Daniel Newell-Prive

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DREAMING THE DAY AWAY Everyone has fantasies.

Everyone daydreams, of a better life, an ideal world or an alternate one. But what happens when we get lost in these idealisations?

Maladaptive daydreaming, or daydreaming in excess, is an example of this. Maladaptive daydreamers (MDers) have extreme and vivid fantasies that allow them to dissociate from reality whilst being provided with comfort and pleasure.

Whilst they are aware of the fantasy element of their dreams, living in this world is often seen as a preference to their current existence and can consume hours of the day.

Somer, a psychologist who conducted some of the first studies into this behaviour, argues that it should be considered an addiction.

After conducting research and multiple case studies into this form of daydreaming, he states that, due its potential for harm, it should be viewed as a psychological disorder.

Not only does the time spent within these fantasies lead to personal and social neglect, but it often occurs in tandem with excessive internet use and watching porn.

Somer highlights how this should not be seen simply as personal withdrawal but as active dissociation.

A want to escape is not an uncommon one.

The stresses of life and the uncertainty it brings can often lead the mind to wander, and no person can be blamed for that. Dreaming of a better self or lifestyle can bring positives, motivation, and methods to achieve goals. But when these dreams are chosen above reality, a method of coping can become an addiction.

In a case study conducted by the Research Centre for Trauma and Dissociation, one sufferer of MD, Peter, describes using it as a distraction from his isolated reality, triggered by childhood bullying and pictures on the internet.

Whilst his creation of alternate realities gave temporary respite, he also notes the regret of missed intimacies and describes himself as lacking a sense of maturity.

The centre’s work with Peter did not seek to completely remove the use of daydreaming but looked to adapt it into an effective coping mechanism rather than a compulsion.

Shame and a lack of social recognition have led many suffering from MD to not reach out for help; held back by the stigma and sometimes scoffing that comes with explaining their reality.

To move past this, further research has been conducted into the addictive and detrimental elements of the disorder.

There has also been increased work put into effective treatments and greater accessibility to such schemes.

Having a creative outlet and a place to escape to is important, as we all need rest and a mental respite.

However maladaptive daydreaming has been shown to move beyond a coping mechanism to an addiction, meaning whilst we can draw positives from its inventive nature, caution must be taken when using it as a form of escapism.

Words By Daisy May

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TRAVEL. TRAVEL. Editor: Finnuala Brett Deputy Editor: Grace Burton Digital Editor: Isobel Edmondson Sub-Editor: Eve Baird The Croft/ Adam Liu

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W

e’re now at a point where it’s conceivable a person might come forward and say: ‘I don’t need to ever actually see the world, I’ve seen it all on video’.

It seems crude, but within our increasingly digital society, the physical experience and enjoyment of travelling seems under threat from the internet. This isn’t at all to say tourism is a dying industry, nor that world travel is on the decline - but now, whether it be on your phone, computer, or any networked device, you can simply browse the world conveniently at your fingertips.

“This shouldn’t really be seen as a bad thing, either. From an external perspective, it seems to solve some issues.”

There’s the point that virtual tourism could decrease air travel; whether it be a vlog, or an influencer-style travel page that insists ‘seeing it online is just as good as seeing it in person’. With carbon emissions decreased, and flight numbers declining, not only is internet travel good for the planet but it also keeps happy those dissatisfied with the very modern ‘inconvenience’ of getting on a plane for eight hours, to travel half-way-around our planet.

It certainly is an alternative - to instead voyeuristically indulge in another’s travel experience from the comfort of your home, or ‘armchair travel’ as some like to call it – but crucially, there is a distinct difference between seeing the world virtually, and actually experiencing the world.

Look at online teaching in COVID: simply put, it just wasn’t as good. The virtual experience isn’t the same, it doesn’t feel the same, and it hasn’t been really considered a replacement for the in person experience. Just as a camera and a microphone can’t replicate education, nor can they replicate travel. An online experience is something necessarily entwined with sensory deprivation: whilst you can still ‘hear’ and ‘see’ what you’re being shown, that’s about it.

Virtual travel doesn’t give you that endearing cringe that comes with the feeling of your toes first touching the sand, or first feeling a ray of sunshine; it instead gives you an uncontrollable lens from which to regard the world.

“But travel is not a 2-dimensional experience.

It is something to be lived, decided, felt, tasted, breathed in.”

There’s also the issue of idealisation and authenticity. What you see isn’t always what you get, and this can work in more than one direction. For example, you might see a travel vlog online and become drawn to it, eventually taking the step of travelling to said place; then, when you get there, you discover the vlog was inaccurate, and the trip far less enjoyable than you had imagined. Where previously a travel vlog might strip someone of a sensory experience, it now forces someone into one they just won’t enjoy. On both sides of the spectrum, online travel accounts teeter on ideas of inauthenticity.

Whilst we live in a world of seemingly exponential technical growth, technology providing a complete sensory experience of what it is like to be somewhere seems a bit far off.

Though world travel’s side effects might cause damage to our world, and steps should continue to be taken to counteract this, the healthy urge to explore new things should not be put aside for the convenience of the internet.

Travelling is a human action, and for it to be experienced to its fullest, it must be a completely human experience.

Words by Tommy Allday

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The Croft/ Kirklan

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Words by Jessica Lees

2021

Q

uite often the trips we take across the world leave distinct memories and hopefully memories that are fond rather than foul. Having been privileged enough to travel the world from a young age, I have generally been left with memories of silky seas, forests of green and hot sun to accompany most places. That was until I travelled alone for the first time and discovered the challenges which make the joyful memories even sweeter.

Last summer I had the opportunity to travel through Vietnam, Thailand and Bali. This opportunity resulted from GOTOCO, a University of Bristol-affiliated company that sends both under and post-graduates around the world to teach English.

One of the best parts is that all accommodation, food, flights, and in-country travel are included due to Turing funding with countries to go to in Europe and Asia.

"As I remember my time in Asia, only the greatest memories are at the forefront. Though the trip was not short of its challenges."

In Vietnam the first challenge was the heat, the intense humidity was quite overbearing being from the generally cold and mild climate of the UK. As well as having around 40-50 children each to look after for many hours in the day was tough. Bali also proved difficult with many participants falling ill from ‘Bali Belly’, something I thankfully avoided. Despite these tribulations when I remember Asia, it is like that of a dream.

Next, I went to Sa Pa, a beautiful town in the mountains five hours from Hanoi and close to China. I stayed in an Eco-lodge with one of the most stunning views of mountains and rice fields. To this day it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

Though my time in Thailand’s capital (Bangkok) was short, my favourite dream-like memory was made here when I spent the day with Elephants. It was nothing short of magical. Feeding, swimming with, and giving mud baths to these immense and magnificent creatures. We had so much fun spending a day at the sanctuary in the Thai countryside and enjoyed a full buffet afterwards. The moment was surreal and will stay with me forever.

I acknowledge that there is a strong element of rose-tinted glasses here. It was extremely hot in Vietnam and Thailand, I couldn’t speak Vietnamese, Thai or Balinese and I got viciously attacked by mosquitos.

"I am misremembering my trip but that’s okay because what stands out are the brilliant times I had with people, immersed in culture, and teaching.

Those memories are the ones worth remembering."

As time moves on, I hope these memories stay strong with the help of my photographs of the time I had in Asia, a time I wouldn’t change for the world, and which was certainly, like a dream.

After a fulfilling time of teaching the children in Vietnam life skills, sports, and theatre, I solo-travelled in the North. Firstly, I visited Ninh Binh about an hour and a half from Hanoi. The highlight of this trip was my travels through the nearby river, surrounded by green mountains like that which can be found in Ha Long Bay. I felt like I was Lara Croft in the game

Tomb Raider.

I spent three nights in a homestay and my host was a lovely woman who showed me an immense amount of kindness and care, although she couldn’t speak much English. She gave me a map of the surroundings, lent me her old bicycle to explore, and sent me on my way with a drink, bananas, and a big hug when I left.

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