There's a particular word, a rather unassuming one really, that sets my teeth on edge. It pops up everywhere, in fashion reviews, art critiques, even restaurant dispatches. It lurks, waiting to pounce, and then, bam! There it is, its presence as unwelcome as a run in a stocking.
The word? "Juxtaposition."
Now, don't get me wrong. I understand the concept. The idea of contrasting elements placed side by side for dramatic effect. Light and shadow. Rough and smooth. But the word itself, "juxtaposition," feels clunky, overused, a crutch for writers who want to sound clever without doing the actual work of describing what they see.
It's like reaching into your toolbox and pulling out a rusty hammer when what you really need is a scalpel.
I remember once, years ago, attending a fashion show. The designer, a young up-and-comer, had sent down the runway a series of dresses that were, to put it mildly, perplexing. Think Victorian mourning gowns reimagined for a rave. Feathers, lace, and neon spandex. The whole nine yards.
Afterward, I overheard a group of journalists huddled together, desperately searching for the right words to describe the chaos they had just witnessed. And then, like a beacon in the night, someone uttered it: "juxtaposition."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the group. The magic word had been spoken. No need to delve any further, to actually grapple with the meaning (or lack thereof) behind the collection. "Juxtaposition" had them covered.
But what did it actually tell us? That the designer had thrown together a bunch of disparate elements? We already knew that. The real question, the one that "juxtaposition" conveniently sidestepped, was whether those elements worked together, whether they created something new and interesting, or simply amounted to a confusing mess.
That's the problem with these overused words, these critical shortcuts. They allow us to remain at arm's length from the subject at hand. Instead of truly engaging with a work of art, a piece of clothing, or even a plate of food, we rely on pre-packaged phrases, on intellectual scaffolding that ultimately obscures more than it reveals.
So, what's the alternative? How do we escape the tyranny of "juxtaposition" and its ilk? The answer, I believe, lies in specificity, in the willingness to get our hands dirty, to really look and listen and taste and feel.
Instead of relying on "juxtaposition" to describe that dress, tell me about the way the lace, stiff and unforgiving, chafed against the smooth, synthetic sheen of the spandex. Describe the feathers, their weight pulling down on the flimsy fabric, threatening to send the whole garment crashing to the ground. Make me feel the discomfort, the awkwardness, the sheer audacity of it all.
It's not about finding the right word, but the right words. The ones that crackle with energy, that paint a vivid picture in the reader's mind. Words that are precise, evocative, and above all, honest.
Let's leave "juxtaposition" to the textbooks and the lecture halls. In the real world, there's a whole universe of language waiting to be explored. Let's embrace the challenge, the messiness, the sheer joy of finding the words that truly do justice to the things we experience.
And maybe, just maybe, we can finally lay "juxtaposition" to rest.
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