image via pinterest
When I started this blog, I had no intention of letting it dwindle down to outfit photos and “Look at my new ____” commentary. I apologize if it has become a little like this lately…it’s hard because sometimes I am just too busy.
So today, let’s talk a little more I have a few announcements to start with. First, as some of you may know, I’m the Fashion News Editor over at Chictopia. There’s an opportunity for a few editors to go with Chictopia to Mercedes Ben Fashion Week every time it rolls around, and I was delighted to be selected among a few other editors. Thank you so much to Chictopia and Everybody is Ugly. I can wait to meet my fellow editors Amy, Syl, Sam, and Whitney. Here’s the original post announcing who is going. I signed on to Chictopia with the hopes of amping up my resume, so going to MBFW is a definite added plus (and a surprise).
Working at Chictopia has also given me some unforeseen exposure, which leads to my next announcement that I’ll be contributing to the Trend Journal UK in addition. Lots of writing happening over here!
Now that that’s said and done, I feel like I ought to write a little about the topic of my most recent post on Chictopia – age. I turned 27 this year and for some reason, it feels really different from turning 26. I’m squarely in my late 20s now, and there’s nowhere to go but up – the next big number is 30, and as crazy as this sounds, for some reason I thought I’d never get there. I’m not saying I want to die or anything, I just mean that as a kid I spent a lot of time imaging myself as a teenager, and as a teenager I spent a lot of time imagining myself in my early 20s. I never really imagined 30, possibly because I simply don’t ever want to be 30. I don’t want to age – I want to love creepers and say awesome forever and ever, without anyone telling me to act my age. But you can’t stop the wheels of time.
And I know from experience that once you end up in the latter half of your 20s, you have to start thinking about what kind of adult you want to be, and then you start to get annoyed, because you never really thought about what you wanted to be – you just were. I think that’s because being outlandish, or rude, or wearing wacky clothing is considered a symptom of youth, but the idea is that once you get to where I am, you have it figured out. I don’t think I’ll ever have it figured out, and I don’t ever want to not be myself or wear what I want because it doesn’t seem appropriate for my age. I’m going to continue doing what I am doing, liking what I am liking, and wearing what I am wearing – but now these will be conscious decisions about the adult I want to be. It’s hard not to stop and ask myself “Is this too young for me?” but I promise I will never answer with a “Yes.”
So consider this a letter, so to speak, about what it feels like to be on the other side and still love who you are and your fashion. Madeline from Jean Greige apparently just turned 26 and wrote a great post on a similar topic. She really got me thinking about what I want to accomplish in the next three years. I, like her, want to write, but I want to write things beyond this post and my posts with Chictopia. I want to write a novel, and that’s been a dream of mine for many years. I even have an idea of what it will be about, and I saw the title and cover in a dream several years ago (really). I just need to sit down and do it.
I also just want read more. I remember that when I had my college personal statement looked over, the person who reviewed it told me I was a good writer. I was beaming with joy, of course, and while it took me a long time to figure out what I wanted to do in college, I have always enjoyed words. Like my eye for photography, I feel like I’ve learned so much of what I know about writing from reading. As a child I simply gobbled books up, but I have lost that in recent years and it pains me when I have to scratch my head as I search for my next word while I am writing. I’m reading one of my favorite books, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, right now. I eat my lunch at my desk and read it in my car, which is spiffy these days as it is warm and filled with sun.
Lastly, I promise to never stop taking photos. And I want my photos and writing to always seem personal – as if I am talking to you. As if it were meant for you to find this. Because I want to move you.
I promise to live my life in a manner that makes me look back at it and think, “I fucking lived,” instead of being filled with regrets about what I didn’t do because I was scared. Insofar, I don’t think I’m disappointing myself. I hope path is full of flair, and I sincerely hope yours is too.
I realize this post has gotten kind of long. I want to keep talking to you, but I think I’ll stop and save it for another day so you can rest your eyes, assuming you read this far, anyway.