
"You can't get to the land of cool without first climbing cringe mountain.- Erica Mallett, New York Times. As dangerous as Everest and as technically demanding as K2, no discussion of the world's most challenging peaks is complete without a mention of Cringe Mountain. But for those willing to undertake the rigorous climb, the rewards waiting at the summit are extraordinary."
"It's also important to come properly outfitted for your ascent, as exposure on Cringe Mountain can be deadly. (Ankle socks, mom jeans, and a French tuck should be fine.) The most popular and widely accessible entry point to Cringe is having been born in the eighties or nineties. The lower section of this trail is gentle and promises landscape features familiar to most millennials, including plenty of heckin' puppers and doggos, the crying-laughing emoji, and adulting."
"Eventually, this route intersects with the path from the Gen Z trailhead, which can present a steep learning curve for the millennial hiker. But not to worry-ironically using Gen Z slang you've read about online will only bring you closer to the apex of Cringe. Skibidi, indeed! About a quarter mile past this intersection, you'll encounter a stream. The water may be tempting, but be wary when confronting your reflection, especially without a filter. Self-awareness this early in the climb could easily wreck your chances of summiting."
Cringe Mountain is framed as one of the most hazardous and technically demanding cultural climbs, comparable to Everest and K2, with extraordinary rewards at the summit for those who persist. Successful ascents require advance planning, awareness of crowd spikes on the Instagram face during holidays, and appropriate outfitting to survive exposure. The most accessible trail begins with being born in the eighties or nineties and offers millennial landscape features like dog memes and adulting. The route intersects the Gen Z trailhead and demands skill with ironic slang. Early self-awareness at a stream can derail progress, and the Saddle of Ambivalence invites doubts about art versus online presence.
Read at The New Yorker
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