As a warning, this post is going to be all text; I just wanted to put out there the story behind me finding my passion. So if you skip the post, due to the fact there are no images or interviews available, that's fine, but if you continue to read on, I'm endlessly grateful.
Ever since I was a child I was interested in clothes; rummaging in the dressing up box, draping my mothers’ clothes on my tiny frame and prancing about to The Spice Girls with red lipstick on and a huge smile on my face. But I don't really have the best story. I was someone who couldn't be bothered- ever. I gave up swimming and started eating. I didn't get fat, no, but I was what you would call a curvy size 12 at the age of 15. I decided against fashion for myself but still loved styling others, I became best friends with my leggings, joggers and jumpers, and I wore no makeup and did nothing with my hair. I hated myself, and hated showing others what I was. My vice is bread, always has been and always will be, that made me bloated all the time, because I gorged and binged on bread and butter. I grew tired of shopping and getting changed and unchanged, walking around highroads and shopping centres being unable to find a single item of 'fashionable' clothing that fitted and suited me properly. Make no mistake about it, I was better off than others, I wasn't fat, but being stuck in a rut and feeling fat inside can do a lot of damage too. Nothing did fit me and nothing suited me. I had a womanly figure and still do, what high street shop like Topshop caters for a teenager with big bust, a big bum and a tiny waist? If you find one, let me know, I'm still looking. I apologise mum if you read this, but I was a bitch to go shopping with, constantly going on about how fat I was and how nothing ever suited me. Now I know why mum likes to shop alone!
One day, after coming home from school I stopped at the newsagents at the bottom of my road. I bought 'Look' magazine and a Kit Kat chunky, (another vice) and went home. I was reading Look, my weekly bible, when the corner of a page caught my eye. It was about a young American blogger who was taking the blogging scene by storm with her outrageous clothes and highly feminist views. That girl was Tavi.
I googled her blog and spend the rest of the night reading every single entry Tavi ever wrote, from her first post to her most recent. My eyes hurt but I carried on, she was intriguing, something about her sarcasm and wit blew me away. Yes, her sense of style was incredible too, but her writing style and the content in her posts that wasn't full of air, grabbed me by the feet, stood me up, and shook me. Telling me I needed to find out more. I googled her again, this time her full name, and read various articles written about or with her. She was captivating. I felt perverted, adoring an almost teenager. But then I realised it didn't matter about age. She had passion and it inspired me.
A few months later, I stumbled upon Frassy, another blogger. Again I spent the evening pouring over her posts from beginning to end, front to back and side to side, I clicked all the links and visited every site she recommended. She too was captivating.
I pondered and wondered and thought about and slept on it and turned the idea over in my head. I wanted to do it, but I didn't quite know why? I still hadn't worked out what had hit me. It was a pointing finger, pointing directly to me, and I realised. They just didn't care.
They didn't care about what other people thought about them, about what they wore, about what they said and it was addictive. I wanted to have that affect on people.
I signed up to Blogger, created account and got nowhere in six months. But I'm getting there now.
I'm still the person who thinks she's fat, I've come to like my body, I don't love it and I am the first to admit that. There are days when I hate my body, and go back to my old ways and wear my trusty joggers, but now; I try. I don't care anymore, I shop with my best friends and I look at things they don't like, I disagree with them over what’s in fashion. I don't do 'fashion' or 'trends' anymore, I do 'style'. I'm not perfect, no one is, and I'm still learning. I still am a bitch to shop with, because I've yet to find a shop that caters to my shape, but I make things work, I've found shapes and textures I love, fabrics and patterns I hate. I don't doubt my ability to dress well, but I don't feed it, I never criticise others, because they could be struggling with their body like I was. Instead I find something to compliment them on, whether it's their makeup that day, or a ring they're wearing or the bag they've got slung over their shoulder.
I wanted to change my whole self, change how I looked, how I felt literally and mentally, I wanted to get a job and start spending money on clothes I actually liked to wear. I wanted to think about how I could style certain items of clothing not what my next meal would be.
I wondered about how I could improve my blog, I didn't want to be just another number to the increasingly huge amount of fashion bloggers out there, I want to make a difference, get noticed and be fresh! The outfit posts weren't working because I had no camera, no job, and no money for decent clothes. So I decided on interviews, along with outfit posts when I get the time to do them. I interview bloggers who have influenced me and have affected me somehow or maybe just inspire. But I enjoy it and I hope my readers do too!
I shop now, and everything I see, I think of ways to make it work. I enjoy shopping and even though I still may terror over changing and unchanging, I experience it with arms open, head first. I discovered vintage, charity shops and markets, and have found the shapes from then suit me far better than what Topshop or Primark have to offer.
I still love food, there are days I still hate my body and I don't have a job but I'm learning.
I've found my foot in fashion.