Seriously. What the hell am I doing here? I mean, what makes me relevant?
Many of you may not know this, but I ran a blog called Operation Indigo. I'm not even sure what it was about. All I knew was that I was going to make a change. I went to a womens even and stalked down the first Lady of California (at the time) Maria Shriver. I was one of thirty girls picked in a national search by Discovery Girls magazine, recognized as role models, where I met one of my best friends. I was on TV!!! and yet, that blog only had seven followers. SEVEN.
But then I got bored. I am a bit of an attention hoarder, and this blog wasn't getting anything. I needed to find something else I was good at. Something I enjoyed. Something that would be fun. I read an article somewhere about Tavi. (Don't these things always come back around to her?) and thought " Oh, now THERES something I could do!" I've always had great style, or so I'd been told. I'd wanted to be a model my whole life. I dressed up as TYRA for career day in the fourth grade. So I thought this would be easy. I never even thought it through. I just DID. I sat down that day and created this blog, and wrote my infamous first post. The rest is, as they say, LAST SEASON.
There's a point to all this, promise.
Here it is: There are aproximatly 50 bajillion other fashion bloggers out there, ranging from the age of 10 to about 159. Each one thinks that their blog is better than everyone elses.Well, I don't, that's true. I've found a ship load of other blogs that are better than mine, but that's not the point. We all want to believe that one day, we'll hit it big. We'll be Tavi, or Rumi, or Kristen. We'll be the one that sits next to Anna Wintour at Chanel, or Franca Sozzani at Missoni. Thats why day after day, personal style bloggers who really wish they could just put on jeans and a blouse and get on with their day, root through their closet to find an outfit you haven't seen yet. That's why runway bloggers dredge up picture after picture of of Style.com. That's why I spend hours trying to write something worthy of you reading it.
We all want to be the one that stands out.
But when someone asked me "What makes you different from the 50 bajillion?", all I could think of was, "They've got their act together.". I'm not personal style, I'm not runway, I'm RANDOM. When I was writing Operation Indigo, which is still up, by the way, I knew what I was doing. I was changing the world. A little bit. I was one of a kind. Now, I'm like a grey Louboutin in a row of black ones. I stand out, but not as much as a, say, NEON ORANGE one. You look at the grey one and go, "oh, that's pretty", but look at the orange one and say "I've been looking for YOU.". And that's the reality. I am a grey Louboutin.
Or maybe not. Maybe I'm a white one. A dye-able, white Loub. Somebody grab some RIT. I'm about to paint this place neon PINK. (Which we all know is better than orange anyway)
Only one in a million become Tavi.
Or maybe 2 in a million.
Because then there's space for me.
ps. In case you didn't understand that, I am trying to figure out what makes me relevant. Any ideas?