Sliding into the DMs has been a big theme for me for the past year. Everyone is hearing from me. My first newsletter of 2026 was a bit of a dream project, in Hot Girl Books 2.0 – ALL STAR EDITION, I compiled reading recommendations from some of my favourite on(and off)-line voices. Graduating in the age of AI and in the middle of a recession also meant that I finally had to give in and start networking (ominous). Sliding into DMs used to be synonymous with flirtatious fun, and whilst I’ll still occasionally hit up someone I fancy, these days more often than not I’m putting my hours in on LinkedIn (which has been detrimental to my levels of whimsy but a girl’s gotta eat), reaching out to my niche internet crushes in an attempt to make new friends, or to people I haven’t spoken to since middle school in an attempt to reconnect. I have been praising the fruits of sliding into DMs to anyone who will listen, and this piece is just one of my latest attempts to evangelise everyone in my life.
The best thing I’ve ever gotten that started with a DM
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’ve just gotten back to London after being away for two months. I’ve got a week in the city before I jet off again, and I think most sane people would use this time to rest, put their lives back in order, and enjoy the silence that is only possible in an empty apartment. Instead, I’m unpacking as quickly as I can, grabbing my wallet, computer and a toothbrush on my way out the door to head over to my friend’s house. I’ve spoken about Giorgia before, how her presence has an uncanny ability to regulate my nervous system and how our friendship makes me believe in a higher power. Gio and I actually met several years ago in Brussels, where we went to the same school. We were in adjacent social circles and were friendly enough, but once she moved away for high school, we lost touch. A couple of years later, I started university and moved into halls in an apocalyptic landscape. It was 2020, and my dreams of getting messy drunk and making lifelong friends during freshers’ week had been promptly crushed. Instead, I moved in after a two-week government-mandated quarantine, making conversation with the security guards because they were the only people around. One geo-tagged Instagram story later, and Giorgia was the one sliding into my DMs. As luck would have it, her room was only one courtyard away. Whilst I now have little to no reservations about reaching out to people, my seventeen-year-old self, who was brand new to the city, was incredibly grateful. That one interaction went on to become one of the most meaningful relationships that carried me into adulthood.
In my attempt to maximise our time together for the brief week I was back in London, I schlepped over to her house on a Sunday night, with the promise of a work-from-home Monday that had me counting down the days to be back in the city. I slipped into the comfort of familiarity, pulling out my favourite sweatpants from her dresser and getting started on dinner as we caught up on the past couple of months. I felt at home looping in her housemates. I asked Irene about her work crush and put my life in Ines’ hands as I sat on a chair in her room, towels lining the floor as she chopped off as much hair as she deemed fit1. Oh my god, look how far we’ve come, *snip snip*, five years ago I barely knew you, and now you’re cutting my hair! As she snipped my hair away, I considered my luck that Giorgia swiped up on my story all those years ago.
With the reinforcement that came from that initial success story, I’ve continuously used the DMs to fan the flames of a budding friendship. Last May, I saw loads of people I was peripherally aware of and friendly with at a High School reunion. Once we’d covered the how have you been and what have you been up to, I found myself deep in conversation, laughing till my stomach hurt and asking myself why did it take me so long to properly speak to you? On my way back to London, I scrolled through my contacts, mentally drafting my [probably too] earnest it was SO nice to see you message. Realising I never texted any of these people in school, I switched over to Instagram, feeling awkward and a little dude-y but pressing send nonetheless. I’ve since had coffee and dinner and drinks to properly catch up with them, though we’ve graduated to texting.
Ask, and You Shall Receive
My first DM crusade came in the first term of my Master’s programme. Previously a Literature student, I was unfamiliar with the struggle of having to beg everyone in your life to fill out a questionnaire so you can pass your Research Methods required credit. As my group tried, and mostly failed, to gather enough primary data on the eating and shopping habits of Brazilian consumers, I realised I had no other option but to personally reach out not only to family and friends, but also to everyone I still followed from my elementary school. I felt awkward messaging these people whom I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years, and made sure to start off by reminding them how we knew each other, because I was pretty sure many of them had no idea who I was. I quickly got over all of that once the responses started rolling in, and was delighted to catch up with my brother’s childhood friends who once practically lived in our house and the girls I hadn’t seen since our sandbox days.
Though I [re]encountered my best friend thanks to a DM, in true post-grad unemployment fashion, I really honed the skill in the process of trying to find a job and life purpose. I reached out to family friends and Instagram mutuals and strangers on LinkedIn, desperate for some direction. I became an expert on the coffee chat,2 and my calendar, which was once littered with lectures and sports nights and drinks with my girlfriends, became my LinkedIn feed come to life. I had always been apprehensive about networking; it felt too transactional, and I almost always felt inadequate, too inexperienced to bring anything of value to the table. I physically cringed attempting to type out dear network posts, sick with inauthenticity, though I knew my confessional writing had no place in the corporate sphere. Slowly, I realised that it wasn’t all that scary or all that bad. I’ve always been chatty, and I’m naturally curious, so sitting down with people from a variety of industries and going down the rabbit hole of all of the careers I was considering was surprisingly enjoyable. When I started flirting with a more creative line of work, the personal and professional lines started to blur. I asked a friend in the industry for career advice over dinner and ended up pitching her the next morning. I liked someone’s work and let them know, and found myself laughing at their stories both in writing and over drinks.
In Defence of Enthusiasm and the Parasocial Relationship
I’ll be the first person to admit that the internet is a wild and weird place. You won’t find me restacking those Substack feels like this posts with aesthetically pleasing photos of girls giggling at a sleepover or frolicking in the wild. I’ve fallen victim to wasting the day away switching my attention from a medium screen propped up on my lap to the tiny screen denting my pinkie, and the term enshitification has entered my personal lexicon. Still, I occasionally fall into a parasocial relationship. When I was younger, it was the beauty vloggers who helped me perfect my winged eyeliner, their big sister advice peppered in the background of my teenage years. In later years, I binged literary nonfiction, becoming enamoured with the voices of Nora Ephron, Joan Didion, Eve Babitz and Elizabeth Wurtzel, their words working overtime at the back of my head. I rationed their works, knowing there was no more coming and making sure I read responsibly. When I ventured over to Substack last year, I was quickly drawn to the diaristic confessions that thrive on this platform. I had been an avid reader of Man Repeller, Into the Gloss and Camille Over the Rainbow back in the day. Leandra Medine Cohen, Emily Weiss and Camille Charriere had distinct voices; I could spot their writing without needing to check the byline. Slowly, the same thing started happening here, the same writers popping up on my feed as I slowly curated my can’t-miss weekly reads. I felt self-conscious texting the first writer I admired. It’s one thing to do the whole mutually liking each other’s Instagram stories and another thing entirely to message them out of the blue. My friend Zee, with her endless wisdom, nudged me on. Enthusiasm is a good thing; don’t feel bad about it. As I met up with more people I admired, my impostor syndrome dwindled, though never completely disappearing, because I thought these girls were so cool and talented, and I was just happy to be there. I started seeing the benefits of having people who were doing the same thing, just at a larger scale. I once again found myself asking for advice.
2026 is the Year of Delusion
Being delusional used to be a joke; we’re so delulu you’d say rolling your eyes, laughing over cappuccinos with a friend as you dissect your situationship’s latest text or convince yourselves the universe is actively putting your crush at every bar you walk into. I always had my delusional moments, but prided myself on having at least one foot planted firmly on the ground at all times. As my life turned upside down after graduating, and I had no idea where to go next, a canonical event for most twenty-somethings, I’m told, I started wearing delusion as a badge of honour. Instead of asking myself why? I’d wonder why not? I still haven’t reached that state of unadulterated confidence that everything will work out, but I’m choosing to trust the process. I’ve spent the past year asking people of all walks of life for advice, and while I lack any real expertise (on anything besides dating and looking for a job), I’m still passing on some wisdom: you should be in everyone’s DMs.
What I’m reading:
Because 2026 is the year of fun:
Jojo Schön’s Niche Internet Crush series is a new and delightful discovery (I love it just as much as Arden Yum’s Cheat Sheets, but people are sick of me recommending it) - I miss reading about celebrities’ makeup bags and medicine cabinets in Into the Gloss
Hol Harland’s You found it cringe, I found it fun is my new life philosophy
eleanor greene’s help! i want to be Rachel Sennott! and Sophia June’s My Debilitating Obsession With My Crush’s Ex-Girlfriend on sex happens were both hysterical and relatable reads
Because I still think it’s resolution season:
Caroline Beuley’s The Case for a Single New Year’s Resolution and Amanda Gunn’s my new year’s resolution is to be messy
Because other people also think you should be delusional:
I recently watched Erifili Gounari read what would you do if you believed in yourself more? at a COY Collective event and re-read it on the tube home. Amelia Ward’s Flirtation, Delusion, Abundance gives you the perfect words of affirmation to start the year.
And if you’re looking for my favourite diaristic pieces on Substack…
no one does it better than Evie, I recently loved I am not sexy right now, sauna romance is only real if you bring a swimsuit, and ayahuasca might be in my future and Partying in Your Hometown Means Being 16 Again, Drinking Cheap Vodka, and Hoping Your Childhood Crush Notices You, which she wrote for The Guest List
and if my hairdresser Rin is reading this, I’m so sorry, it was an impulse decision, and I’ll see you when I get back!
#toughestbattlesstrongestsoldiers
i’m going to be a dms warrior now… this is GREAT
Thanks for the shout-out! And yes, I am such a proponent of sliding into DMs! I've made so many Substack friends that way!
Also Evie is my favorite substack diarist too!!