Photos: Yelim Lee
As my mom’s Jamaican friend used to say, “sometimes you’ve just got to keep it real.” In my case, I feel as if a direct, from the heart ramble has been long overdue.
This blog started with mixed feelings. On one hand, I was dying to style looks and stretch my own potential, but on the other, I was completely terrified. I’ve always been the awkward kid who would either run away from a camera, or make a stupid face. I never really felt “pretty” , was far too occupied with how my Barbies looked and felt (yes — really), and I spent most of my time eating and drawing.
When I put down the Barbies and picked up the computer, I discovered fashion blogs (Jay Strut, Fashion Toast etc). The whole blogger world fascinated me — could I actually be like them? Could I have that much confidence?
The answer to these questions used to always be “no.” Funny thing is, I was oblivious to my own fear. Thankfully, something changed last summer. I stopped caring. All of these excuses of why I shouldn’t write a blog used to flood my brain. As a perfectionist, I always want everything to be just so. If all of my “ducks are in a row” I’m happy. But life doesn’t work that way, does it. At least for longer than a day.
When writing a blog, a spelling error here and there happens. Maybe I dislike a certain outfit. But overtime, I’ve learned to accept those errors. What I find harder to accept, however, is the personal aspect.
Seeing myself as a stylist first and foremost, I’ve been styling my mom and my Barbies since I could form sentences. I would collage obsessively, draw for hours , style my online characters on Stardoll and The Sims (90s kids — remember?), and even sew clothes. I used to take my friends shopping and pull them clothes. I used to lay out outfits for my mother on her closet floor, later informing her that those were her “looks of the week.”
I think this desire to style things, to create things, was always directed towards other people. When the spotlight turned to myself, I subconsciously panicked. I enjoy talking about styling, colours and the latest runway shows, but I’ve been far too scared to talk about myself.
But just like poetry, I think a certain “look”, if you want to call it that, can often speak for itself. What can’t be spoken for, is me. And that scares me to no end. How do I know if I’m being too revealing? Should I include less? Should I include more? Is the word count on this post too long (is it — tell me in the comments)?
Just like the photography aspect of my blog, conquering the fear of the personal is going to take some time. Consider this your forewarning. I might get TMI, but just know that I consider you — yes, you — a friend. I don’t care if you randomly stumbled across my blog on Google, or are under the false assumption that I dislike you (I have serious resting bitch face), just know that I am grateful for you. I am grateful that you spend a fraction of your time on earth reading my words.
As I decide to open up more to you guys, I hope that this newfound “friendship” will go two ways. I’m freakishly fascinated with the lives of others, and would be honoured for your perspective (good or bad). Feel free to link me your blog and I’ll check it out. As Jojo would say, “I Wanna Get To Know You.”
Comment about yourself, how / why you started your blog, and one random fact about you.
My random fact? In school, my favourite classes were French and Art. Some things never change.
*Normal posts will be coming back next week — just with a new flair.