There are few moments in my life where I can truly say that I’ve had a moment of epiphany. One of them was when I stepped into the holy light of feminism and realized that I didn’t have to respond to creepy men cat calling me on the street. And the next was when I realized that I would never be a personal style blogger.
Outside of the Rebecca Minkoff fashion show at this past NYFW, I clutched my camera in my hand and tentatively walked closer to the large mass of fashionable people being shooed away from the streets by security guards. I’d been dieting and exercising for months in hopes that my “”edgy”” style and toned arms would compel some photographer, or at the very least fellow blogger, to take my picture.
Not a single person took my picture that day. Literally, not a soul. Well, I’m not counting the person who I asked to take my picture with my own camera so that there was photographic proof that I was there and that picture was mediocre at best. It was humbling to say the least. But then I realized that it didn’t matter how much I exercised and dieted, or how edgy I thought looked. I didn’t fit into the archetype of “Fashion Blogger.”
Folks, I’m awkward, 5 ft 5 inches, and thanks to my love of all things food, no where near the laughably unrealistic feminine goal of a thigh gap. Put that all together and what do you get? Someone who should not be in front of a camera lens. Now don’t get me wrong, there are girls who look like me who are absolutely killing it at the fashion blogger game. In fact, most days, I’m absolutely killing it too. However it’s no secret that fashion blogging has become formulaic. That’s not an opinion. That’s a fact.
The formula involves a pretty person in a new, typically brand sponsored outfit, with expertly applied makeup on, being cute and looking fierce/happy at an orchard or something equally as picturesque. This is a formula that everyone seems to be using these days. On these blogs, everyone seems to be fierce, and put together, and have crazy amounts of free time to book a photographer, and have the capability to take five great pictures. Honestly, personal style bloggers are incredibly poised, elegant, and low key fashion superheroes.
But then there is me. Stylish, but usually hilariously ungraceful and usually sweating like I’m being paid by the drop. For me, getting in front of the camera was humiliating and dishonest.
I am not a personal style blogger because I refuse to take my genuine love for fashion and turn it into a formulaic plan that makes me feel fake. I am not a personal style blogger because I believe that fashion is bigger and better than what I’m wearing. It’s about art, identity and confidence. I’m not a personal style blogger because I’m committed to telling the stories of fashion enthusiasts of all sizes, shapes, races, ethnicities, and genders. I’m not a personal style blogger because I’m going to continue to shove carbs in my mouth and watch Netflix instead of working out. I’m not a personal style blogger because I have college loans to payback. I’m not a personal style blogger because I have more to offer the fashion world than several pictures of me in a well fitted coat.
I’m not a personal style blogger because I’m finally at the point in my life where I don’t give a damn about no one taking my picture. And even though I’m sweaty, croissant eating blogger, my opinions on fashion stretch farther than the clothes on my back. I’m not a personal style blogger, and I’m glad about it.
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Sola
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