I am obsessed with tiktok, actually, in my case, “youtube shorts” (worse algorithm, less addictive), videos of #vanlife. #Vanlife is when white people retrofit sprinter vans, usually between $10-50K, with renovations totaling just as much, into homes. Well, I guess it depends on your definition of “home”, the vans usually have a bed with pillows, a sink, cabinets, dishes, some sort of way to shower, a toilet (sometimes a bucket), plants which they have to velcro down to the countertop in order to avoid them falling over in transit, and even pets. Then, they travel around North America in all its natural beauty and Wal-Mart parking lots.
My particular curiosity in these videos stems from a few sources. First, it is just plain interesting to see people living in such a tiny space. Secondly, the vistas shown in the videos are stunning, and I love being outdoors.
But I hate camping, I hate unnecessary work and I love convenience, so part of me is scrolling, zooming in to search. I am searching for the piece I am missing: the why. Why are they doing this if they don’t have to? What are they being fulfilled by that I cannot see?
life
I usually watch “day in the life” #vanlife videos. In the morning, the van is set in a gorgeous national park backdrop, doors open, sun streaming in, a dog happily panting on top of the van’s bed. “Here’s a typical day in my van", the videos start.
Usually, after waking up, the inhabitants make coffee using an aeropress (small, portable), walk their dog without a leash around the campsite, make a gorgeous social-media breakfast of acai bowl, or eggs with an entire avocado cut just right, or a green smoothie. I don’t understand how they can make such aesthetically pleasing meals inside a tiny van, where there is only a small separation between the inside and out.
Then, they do a yoga workout and a skincare routine. It appears that, even in a van traveling through all of North America, one cannot escape the aesthetic demands of social media.
work
After breakfast, the protagonist goes to work. I am shocked. HUH!!? I exclaim, throwing my phone across the room. These people live in the middle of the desert/beach/forest and WORK? What sort of job allows for this, and is it truly that professional-managerial labor has no substance?
Granted, most of their work is likely social media posting but I am not sure how much they get paid for that and it sort of ruins it, you know, when in fact a day in the life is not a day in the life but a staged play, acting as if they truly are a normal person with a job, when really they are just an advertisement for #vanLife. Many of the van life creators renovate other vans, which they sell. Either way, their livelihood is dependent on their lifestyle, and their ability to make the lifestyle aesthetically pleasing.
freedom
“boho camper vans is changing the way people live, through one simple, yet powerful word: freedom,” began a pitch from Boho Camper Vans on the NBC hit series “Shark Tank.” My boyfriend and I love Shark Tank; something about the hilarious ideas and the uniquely American propaganda is just too good to resist.
“We hear the word freedom all the time, but most of us never get to truly experience it,” they continued. “The average American is swimming in debt, tied to an inflexible work schedule, and just trying to keep up with the cost of living. There must be a better way to experience life. Boho camper vans is giving people back that freedom. We rent and we sell [vans].”
My boyfriend turned to me. “They are becoming landlords of this shit!” he exclaimed. The rentable vans boasted running water, solar powered electricity, a mini fridge, and a 2 burner stove. You could rent the van for a weekend or forever.
“The best part,” the pitch concluded, almost satirically, grimly, “is you can take them everywhere.” The Sharks were impressed; for any of my Sharkies out there, Barbara gave them an offer.
home
When I worked at Stanford, every day I would cross El Camino Real to go through Standford’s entrance, lined with palm trees. Up and down El Camino were parked campers, campers people lived in because they worked nearby. It wasn’t because they were living some social media fantasy or dream, it was because they had to.1 They didn’t want to explore the world, they just needed to live where they worked.
There is no official Census method for counting people who live in vehicles. A 2018 Seattle report estimated that 53% of people who slept outside in Seattle's King County lived in a vehicle.2 Moreover, a 2020 report by the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty concluded that the pandemic caused an increase in vehicle residency.3
What is the difference between #vanlife and living in your car? What is the difference between freedom to “live anywhere” and homelessness? Perhaps it is class, a wealthy #vanlifer with an email job can travel, has flexibility, is likely (but not always) childless; the key Boho Camper Vans word of freedom. You see, #vanLifers are choosing to engage with the lifestyle, and that makes all the difference.
For #vanLife to have palatability, it must shroud its closeness to homeless, by way of cute kitchenettes, matcha, acai bowls, well-groomed pets, expensive skincare, in-van showers, backsplash. Even if you are living in a van, you can afford a hotspot and an iPhone; Tiktok is free, so long as you endure the pressure to make your lifestyle appear desirable, which requires some expert maneuvering given how you rely on Planet Fitness in order to shower.
But social media posts of #vanLife expose how public spaces to park in America are really few and far between, people have to ask permission from a Cracker Barrel to sleep in its parking lot. Or, they could risk being policed on city streets, or opt for a paid camping spot in a remote location lacking wifi, and, for many of the solo travelers, a sense of security.
future
Social media #vanLifers tout the ability to live a minimalistic lifestyle, see amazing places and travel freely. They also seem to be on a quest for self-discovery. DivineOnTheRoad left her dead-end job and hit the road with no money. She found a dog and a husband and herself. Other influencers I’ve seen have a similar story, uprooting everything they’ve known to take a leap of faith- realizing that nothing, really, is guaranteed to begin with. Why not say “fuck it?” It is really this streak of rebellion I find enthralling.
It is upsetting to see trends which are obviously the symptom of a larger economic problems. Besides vanlife, tradlife comes to mind, tiny homes, the obsession with nostalgia and Marvel movies, people living “off the grid”, the metaverse’s escapism (what else can you think of- note in the comments). But I would be lying if I didn’t, for a moment, imagine myself in the driver’s seat of a Mercedes sprinter van, glaring down the road in its white and yellow stripes, off into the distance of some better, more grounded future.
https://www.paloaltoonline.com/news/2019/07/12/living-on-four-wheels-the-people-inside-the-rvs-on-palo-altos-el-camino-real
https://www.sapiens.org/culture/vehicle-residency/
https://www.poynter.org/newsletters/2021/vehicle-residency-a-growing-number-of-people-are-living-in-their-cars/