It’s now been over a year that I started this blog.
I wish I could give you a proper logical reason or an inspirational story behind its birth but, quite honestly, I can’t even remember how it all began (if you’ve been following it from the start, maybe you know better than I do). I was recently asked about the title – where I got the idea, if there was any meaning behind it – and I couldn’t answer. “I don’t know” seems like the only possible answer to all the questions surrounding this blog.
Deep down, I believe it was born from pure despair. Suffocation. I had all these words, all these opinions that I was keeping to myself and all these beautiful things that I’d found and wanted to share with the world. Talking wasn’t enough – most of the time people aren’t interested in the same things as you, or you just end up talking too much and making them lose track of the original idea.
All these wonderful things and complicated thoughts were stacking up in my brain like freshly sealed magazines and gift-wrapped books and I was afraid that, inevitably, this treasure chest in my brain would turn into a dusty, mouldy abandoned library. So I thought “heck, why not put them in a nice place”?
This was never intended as a fashion-only blog.
And I am proud of myself for keeping it that way.
The blogosphere of the new decade is 50% street style, 40% look-at-what-I’m-wearing and probably 10% thoughtful, personal pages. The latter is, quite frankly, the only kind of thing I enjoy reading. I was never into the street style craze and I don’t think anyone is interested in seeing what I’m wearing. I like fashion. I like to write. I like art. I like photography. How limiting would it be to start something for only one of those categories? How likely would it be that I would drop it after two, maybe three months of obsessive posting?
It’s personal, but at the same time it’s not.
It’s not a diary. It’s not about my private life. It’s about sharing. It’s about putting things out there that I thoroughly believe other people will like, maybe even fall in love with – whether it be clothes, cosmetics, music, animation, paintings, etc. Sometimes, maybe, I will say something about myself. If I have to, if I think it might be beneficial to someone. Maybe that is the whole spirit – to make people happy. Not just others, but myself. When people ask me what I study, I answer “Fashion Communication”, which is correct, but immediately followed by “Oh, so you run a fashion blog?” which is not correct. I don’t fit into that bubble. I don’t want to fit into that bubble. Heck, if I ever do write about fashion, 9 times out of 10 it’s about menswear – and I can count by my fingers the successful fashion bloggers who write about menswear.
Of course I’ve had blogs before. We all created a blogspot or livejournal in our teen years. Maybe more than one (maybe more than five). I know I did, and I shut them all down after realizing I’d lost my passion for it. It was always either too personal or too limiting. Whenever I was created a new blog I would sit down and think “So what is this one going to be about?” and I think that was my major mistake. When I started studying what I really wanted to study, I realized, for the first time, that I didn’t have to focus on one thing and, most of all, if I did focus on one thing I wasn’t doing it for myself – I was doing it for the visibility.
Ironically, this mess of a place has gotten a lot more visibility than any of my old ‘theme blogs’. Double irony – I enjoy it a lot more. I don’t feel the pressure to stick to some random guideline I imposed upon myself. The only thing I expect from everything I post is decent writing and a certain level of coherence in opinions and style – whether I’m talking about an illustrator’s work or a new limited edition fragrance. I need to be honest and straightforward, because if someone important out there is ever going to come across this thing… well, I can’t spend my whole life pretending to be someone I’m not, can I?
The bottom line is… writing is good for me. It’s practice for what I want to do in the future and it’s therapeutic at the same time. Some people go to the gym, some people knit, some people make collages – I write. Writing makes me happy. Sharing makes me happy. And knowing I might have put a smile on someone else’s face, as well as my own, makes me happier than I thought I could ever be.