ONE
Lauren
The photo I post this morning isn't the one I want to share.
The one I like best was taken hours ago, at five-thirty a.m., before anyone else was awake, at a small coastal chapel I'd found by accident while exploring the village of Positano. The church’s whitewashed walls were pinkish in the earliest light, and a single fishing boat was visible through the arched doorway. I'd crouched on wet stone for twenty minutes waiting for the angle to be exactly right.
There was a hum in the recesses of my brain when I found that perfect shot. It was low and warm, like standing near something live, something vibrant. I've felt it before, in certain places: Lake Michigan in the winter, on a hike in Sedona, in a prehistoric cave in Spain where the light did something impossible. I've never been able to explain it and I've learned not to try. My old boss would have said it was just instinct. I think it might be something else.
I glance at my photo again. It wasn’t taken with my Nikon, but with my iPhone. Then I peek at my social media engagement data from the last six months and post a photo of myself at the villa pool instead.
The caption practically writes itself.
This week I flew to Italy to find my center. The Amalfi Coast has been calling my soul, and I answered. Sometimes the most sacred thing you can do is say yes to beauty. Soaking in the light, the salt air, the ancient energy of this place — and feeling so grateful. What sacred spaces have been calling YOU lately? Drop them below. Huge gratitude to @chasebank and @alitalia for helping me answer the call. #sacredtravel #goddesslife #soulful #amalfi #manifestyourlife
With a swipe and a tap, I post it to my one-point-five million Instagram followers as I take my first sip of coffee.
Officially, I’m a spiritual travel influencer. I photograph sacred sites, healing retreats, ancient temples. Places where the intangible and the mystical live in the light. Or I used to, before I discovered that photos of myself infrontof those places get three times the engagement of the places alone.
Tiresome, but necessary, if I want to make money. And like it or not, money’s needed to travel. Such is the life under capitalism in the 21stcentury, I guess.
The comments arrive almost immediately.
omg your energy in this photo is everything
What crystals did you pack for this trip? asking for a friend lol
You are literally glowing. What's your skincare routine??
This is the sign I needed to book my Italy trip thank you queen
Within three minutes, I get a hundred likes. The photo of the chapel still lives in my pro camera, unseen by anyone but me.
I look up from the sleek white leather sofa as the villa's owner comes in from the terrace.
“Amazing party, wasn't it, Lynn? I mean, Lauren?”
I fight the urge to scream. Giovanni's a well-known event planner in Italy, and he can never remember my name.
I've been to his sprawling villa three times in recent months for various weekend-long events sponsored by fashion and liquor brands — and once, memorably, a “conscious living” summit that turned out to be a champagne-soaked influencer gathering with a singing bowl left untouched in the corner. I've given Gio tags and shout-outs, which boost his profile.
He still can't remember my name.
This is the part of my life that doesn't make it into my captions. Somewhere along the way, chasing the sacred-travel niche led me straight into an international party circuit — the same three hundred glossy, loud, perpetually jet-lagged people, rotating through the same villas and yacht decks and sponsored “experiences.” Half of them post about chakra alignment and then drink until four a.m. I'm not judging. I do it too, occasionally.
It's superficial and I hate it, but this is my life now. When I was in photography school in Chicago, I dreamed of being a nature photographer, or perhaps a portrait shooter. Not this.
“Fab. The party was fab.” I drain the rest of my coffee.
“Going somewhere?” He glances at my hard-shelled black suitcase. A willowy, bronze woman in a flowing linen dress saunters down the marble stairs as if they're a catwalk and folds herself against Giovanni's chest. That’s his girl of the month.
I've never been that girl, thank God. This is all business for me and for him, and I'm grateful Gio understands that. He’s a little slippery, but hasn’t been inappropriate with me.
On social media, I'm a seeker, a wanderer, a woman in tune with the sacred geometry of the universe. In reality, I'm hired help, like a PR person with better lighting. I'm selling other people's brands — swank hotels, wellness retreats, Gio's parties dressed up as spiritual experiences. Being an Instagram influencer is exhausting and lonely at times, but it beats beingan unpaid intern to an ornery old portrait photographer in frigid Chicago.
Still. That job, at least, taught me to actually look at things. My old boss used to say that a good photograph is an act of attention — you're telling your subject,I see you.I think about that more than I'd like to admit these days.
“Headed to Rome,” I say. “A hotel's putting me up for a few nights, and I'm going to tour the Porta Portese Market...” My voice trails off because he and the model are kissing, cooing, obviously paying zero attention to me and my plans to tour a flea market. A trip I’m actually looking forward to.
