I loved all of the 'Zenon' movies. Those were my jam mostly

Hear the playful yet profound words of Sabrina Carpenter, who declared: “I loved all of the ‘Zenon’ movies. Those were my jam mostly because of the fashion. I loved something about the space buns and the weird neon colors. I couldn't just wear that in real life because people would look weirdly at me, but maybe at a party or something.” At first these words seem light, filled with youthful joy and nostalgia, but within them lies a deeper truth about the eternal human struggle between self-expression and the gaze of society. For every soul carries within it a longing to be adorned in its own colors, yet too often we clothe ourselves in the dull fabric of conformity.

The origin of this saying rests in the world of youthful imagination. The “Zenon” movies, tales of futuristic wonder on the Disney channel, were more than entertainment for children; they were visions of possibility, of a time when fashion and technology might be wild, daring, and unbound. Sabrina speaks not only of neon colors and space buns, but of the courage to embrace the unusual. Yet she also confesses the restraint that reality imposes: that in the daylight of ordinary life, such brilliance is mocked, that the joy of self-expression is often confined to rare occasions, like a party, where freedom is momentarily permitted.

This tension is as old as civilization itself. Consider the ancient Romans, who clothed themselves in the dignified toga for public life, but in secret festivals like Saturnalia, cast aside restraint and donned wild colors, costumes, and masks. For even the most disciplined societies knew that man cannot live forever in the shadow of convention; the heart demands expression, whether in neon hues or garlands of ivy. Thus Sabrina’s words echo the ancient truth: beneath the surface of every age lies a hidden desire to adorn oneself in the strange and marvelous.

History gives us another mirror in the tale of the Impressionist painters. In their own time, their art—filled with bold colors, strange visions, and new techniques—was ridiculed by society. They were told their canvases looked incomplete, their visions foolish. Yet they persisted, and in time, their daring became the new standard of beauty. What was once “weird” became celebrated. So too with Sabrina’s neon fashions: what is mocked today may one day be embraced as the brilliance of tomorrow.

But her words also carry a warning. She speaks of holding back, of not daring to wear what she loves because of how people would look at her. This is the chain that has bound many through the centuries: the fear of ridicule. How many have silenced their songs, hidden their poems, or muted their colors because society’s gaze was heavy upon them? Yet greatness often comes from those who dared to look “weird,” who stepped into the world clothed not in approval but in authenticity.

The lesson is thus: do not fear the neon colors of your soul. Perhaps you cannot wear them every day; perhaps the world will not yet understand. But find your moments—your “parties”—where you can shine. Create spaces in your life where judgment falls away, where you can adorn yourself in the strange, the beautiful, the unexpected. For self-expression is not mere vanity; it is the language of the soul. To deny it entirely is to bury part of yourself alive.

Therefore, O listener, remember Sabrina’s words. Embrace your space buns, your neon colors, whatever they may be. Know when to walk with restraint, but also know when to let your spirit shine unashamed. For life is too short to be lived only in the gray garments of fear. Celebrate your uniqueness, even if only in moments, for in those moments you draw nearer to freedom. And perhaps, by your daring, you will open the way for others, until what was once mocked as strange becomes remembered as radiant.