My experiment of being a fashion blogger for a week

Last summer I attempted to carry out an experiment for no reason in particular other than to indulge in some egotistical ways for a week by being a ‘fashion blogger’. Or what I thought was a fashion blogger anyway. I say attempted, because after a day, I got bored.

In all seriousness though, hats off (a vintage, ‘oh this old thing’ Trilby of course) to these bloggers – it’s hard work. Constantly intentionally mis-matching, matching outfits and trying to get the right angles is hard work.

After an hour, I had about 40 images on my phone of the same variations of the same thing – I clearly don’t have the right angular body to take a good selfie – and this was just a picture of my hand with a ring I liked.

I didn’t even get to try out one of those ‘natural’ outfit pictures where I stand in front of some trendy fire exit in Shoreditch, or trespass onto someone’s really expensive garden in Notting Hill. Plus, I couldn’t actually find anyone willing to take my photo for an hour. I’d be too embarrassed anyway.

No offence to anyone, as I said, I do believe it’s hard work but you have to be a certain type of person to go around getting people to take pictures of yourself. I just find it all too time consuming.

Don’t get me wrong, I love dressing up now and then, I’m a girl, it’s in my DNA. But I like it because it’s a novelty for me, I only dress up if I’m going to a wedding or I’ve got some time to kill. Most days I don’t even bother putting make up on – simply because I can’t be bothered, I’d rather have some extra time in bed.

Truth is, I still feel like that little girl rummaging through my mum’s (minimal) make up stash most of the time. My favourite was this lipstick my mum used to have that came in a box that was covered with soft material and had flowers all over it. When you opened it, it had the tiniest mirror and the pink lipstick my mum never wore. Until one day that is, when she gave me the lipstick to play with – half the lipstick went all over my doll’s face and I regretted it instantly. Not only had I ruined my doll’s face (lipstick doesn’t wash off that well it seems), I’d broken the lipstick too.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I treat makeup the same way I do nice clothes – like they’re luxury items I’m only allowed to use on special occasions. It’s expensive trying to keep up with the trendy world and being the first to show off. Instead I like to wear really old jumpers I’ve had since uni – not to be ‘cool’ – but because it’s still wearable. I like to wear ‘out of season’ clothes – not because I mean to, but because I wear what I want and it’s comfortable.

So I think it’s safe to say, I failed terribly at being a fashion blogger. I’ll just leave it to the experts and admire from afar, like, very afar from now on.

My feeble attempt at taking a mirror selfie…dirty socks on floor are not part of it…

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