Okay, now I'm for real real scared, and I can tell you exactly why. But before I spill my guts, let me walk backwards over the past few days.
As I said in my last post, I have been following a fairly famous fashion blogger. I started following her because, as a fellow blogger, I wanted to track her humble beginnings to see what happened and how and when, and all that stuff. (Besides that, I'm a sucker for clothing.) So I scooted back all the way to the beginning of her blog and read forward.
Starting her blog I was expecting a nice success story and a few fashion tips I might or might not take into consideration. What I was not expecting was the opening of Pandora's box.
I liked her style, and it jived with mine. I would wear most of her outfits. She started blogging at nineteen. At nineteen I loved clothing too. I would almost venture to say, I was obsessed with clothing, just like my blogging friend. She reads Vogue magazine and gets excited about New York fashion week and upcoming trends. Hmmm... just like I used to be.
As I continued reading through her life, everything was sounding so familiar. It was like reading my own blog if I had moved to New York and followed my clothing passion. And suddenly I felt very sad.
Like I said, when I was nineteen, I was obsessed with fashion, but I believed that killer fashion was uncomfortable. So when I got ready for the day I took two hours doing my hair and make up, and then dressing in the greatest outfit I could put together, which usually involved very high heels that killed my feet. I suffered every day, unless I decided to dress down. I didn't understand how to be comfortable and look good, so comfort meant sloppy.
Soon after I turned twenty, I went home for Christmas break and became very sick for two weeks. I was too weak to climb out of bed most of the time, so I laid there reading and thinking. I thought about what I wanted in life.
I had wanted to work in the fashion industry. I had wanted to live in New York. I had wanted a wardrobe full of expensive shoes. But as I laid in bed for two weeks, one word scraped all the paint from my mind. Simplicity. What would a simple life look like for me? Living in New York, being obsessed with clothing and wearing painful shoes was not simple.
During those two weeks of bed rest, I reconstructed my future from a simpler perspective,
When I returned to school for spring semester, my mind and body were completely changed. I was a simpler person and I felt fashion complicated my life. I cancelled my fashion magazine subscriptions. I cleaned my wardrobe of anything that didn't fit the description: simple. And I refused to wear anything solely for its look. I was now about comfort and simplicity.
I stayed in my fashion major just because I liked it and it made sense, but I refused to let myself be pulled into the fashion world again. I didn't go to Las Vegas Fashion week when I had the chance. I never looked at vogue.com, and when I went to New York and walked around all the killer shops, I wouldn't let myself fall in love with any clothing unless it was simple.
I remember one incidence in the mall when I noticed a mannequin's outfit. I walked over to look closer. It was beautiful, then I stopped myself. It wasn't simple. It was too fashionable. So I walked away and didn't look back.
That happened lots of years ago. And as I read this fashion blog, I found my love for fashion being awakened again, and all those years of neglect made me feel very sad. I had not allowed myself a simple pleaser that had always been very strong in me, the pleasure of putting together a killer outfit. But since my fashion desires have sat dormant for so long, I feel like I have to learn everything brand new. But I'm not going backwards, I'm going forward. Now I understand how to be comfortable and fashionable. I also understand how to dress my truth. So things will be different now. Things will be better.
On to part two of what I wasn't expecting from the fashion blog. After I finished my post on Friday, I shut my computer and went about my day, but I had a nagging feeling in the back of my head. A feeling I kept calling stupid and vain and immature and lots of other names. A feeling I am almost embarrassed to admit now: I wanted to start my own fashion blog.
I fought this feeling for the past three days. Why exactly did I want to start a fashion blog? Was I just trying to stroke my ego? Was I wanting to be just like that girl whose blog I was reading? What exactly did I want from it? What about this blog?
These are all questions I stewed over, and even as I visited a friend last night, all the while feeling selfish about the thought of posting pictures of myself on the internet, while he laid in a hospital nightgown wondering if he would survive until the end of the year, I knew a fashion blog was something I just had to do. The show must go on.
The number one reason I want to have a fashion blog is, fashion is something I take great pleasure in and I want to share that pleasure with the world/internet.
I will keep this blog the same. The fashion blog will be mostly pictures with a brief paragraph (maybe).
I am entering new territory. How will my beloved readers take this new exposure? Will they think it is stupid? Immature? Egotistical? I don't know.
So that, dear readers, is why I'm scared. Finding home is all new territory for me. I hope you enjoy the ride.
As I said in my last post, I have been following a fairly famous fashion blogger. I started following her because, as a fellow blogger, I wanted to track her humble beginnings to see what happened and how and when, and all that stuff. (Besides that, I'm a sucker for clothing.) So I scooted back all the way to the beginning of her blog and read forward.
Starting her blog I was expecting a nice success story and a few fashion tips I might or might not take into consideration. What I was not expecting was the opening of Pandora's box.
I liked her style, and it jived with mine. I would wear most of her outfits. She started blogging at nineteen. At nineteen I loved clothing too. I would almost venture to say, I was obsessed with clothing, just like my blogging friend. She reads Vogue magazine and gets excited about New York fashion week and upcoming trends. Hmmm... just like I used to be.
As I continued reading through her life, everything was sounding so familiar. It was like reading my own blog if I had moved to New York and followed my clothing passion. And suddenly I felt very sad.
Like I said, when I was nineteen, I was obsessed with fashion, but I believed that killer fashion was uncomfortable. So when I got ready for the day I took two hours doing my hair and make up, and then dressing in the greatest outfit I could put together, which usually involved very high heels that killed my feet. I suffered every day, unless I decided to dress down. I didn't understand how to be comfortable and look good, so comfort meant sloppy.
Soon after I turned twenty, I went home for Christmas break and became very sick for two weeks. I was too weak to climb out of bed most of the time, so I laid there reading and thinking. I thought about what I wanted in life.
I had wanted to work in the fashion industry. I had wanted to live in New York. I had wanted a wardrobe full of expensive shoes. But as I laid in bed for two weeks, one word scraped all the paint from my mind. Simplicity. What would a simple life look like for me? Living in New York, being obsessed with clothing and wearing painful shoes was not simple.
During those two weeks of bed rest, I reconstructed my future from a simpler perspective,
When I returned to school for spring semester, my mind and body were completely changed. I was a simpler person and I felt fashion complicated my life. I cancelled my fashion magazine subscriptions. I cleaned my wardrobe of anything that didn't fit the description: simple. And I refused to wear anything solely for its look. I was now about comfort and simplicity.
I stayed in my fashion major just because I liked it and it made sense, but I refused to let myself be pulled into the fashion world again. I didn't go to Las Vegas Fashion week when I had the chance. I never looked at vogue.com, and when I went to New York and walked around all the killer shops, I wouldn't let myself fall in love with any clothing unless it was simple.
I remember one incidence in the mall when I noticed a mannequin's outfit. I walked over to look closer. It was beautiful, then I stopped myself. It wasn't simple. It was too fashionable. So I walked away and didn't look back.
That happened lots of years ago. And as I read this fashion blog, I found my love for fashion being awakened again, and all those years of neglect made me feel very sad. I had not allowed myself a simple pleaser that had always been very strong in me, the pleasure of putting together a killer outfit. But since my fashion desires have sat dormant for so long, I feel like I have to learn everything brand new. But I'm not going backwards, I'm going forward. Now I understand how to be comfortable and fashionable. I also understand how to dress my truth. So things will be different now. Things will be better.
On to part two of what I wasn't expecting from the fashion blog. After I finished my post on Friday, I shut my computer and went about my day, but I had a nagging feeling in the back of my head. A feeling I kept calling stupid and vain and immature and lots of other names. A feeling I am almost embarrassed to admit now: I wanted to start my own fashion blog.
I fought this feeling for the past three days. Why exactly did I want to start a fashion blog? Was I just trying to stroke my ego? Was I wanting to be just like that girl whose blog I was reading? What exactly did I want from it? What about this blog?
These are all questions I stewed over, and even as I visited a friend last night, all the while feeling selfish about the thought of posting pictures of myself on the internet, while he laid in a hospital nightgown wondering if he would survive until the end of the year, I knew a fashion blog was something I just had to do. The show must go on.
The number one reason I want to have a fashion blog is, fashion is something I take great pleasure in and I want to share that pleasure with the world/internet.
I will keep this blog the same. The fashion blog will be mostly pictures with a brief paragraph (maybe).
I am entering new territory. How will my beloved readers take this new exposure? Will they think it is stupid? Immature? Egotistical? I don't know.
So that, dear readers, is why I'm scared. Finding home is all new territory for me. I hope you enjoy the ride.