True Confessions of an Imperfect Fashionista
When I was thinking of names for this blog, I considered "The Imperfect Fashionista." I thought I wanted to be a fashion blogger, but with a twist. All the fashion blogs I visited seemed to have one thing in common, all the posts were perfect. Perfect outfits, luxurious vacations, hot boyfriends, all smiles, walking down a cobblestone street. I thought that I could portray a different perspective, life that was a little less than perfect- outfits that were thrown together last minutes, day trips, the highs and lows of dating, etc. But the process of writing the blog (as opposed to thinking about the blog) has led me down a different path. I find that I enjoy writing stories, thoughts, and ideas more than crafting photo heavy posts on clothing and the like.
However I still like the idea of being the imperfect fashionista. It is the idea of imperfection that I'm really drawn to, especially since it feels like social media is inundated with photos of the glamorous life. I have to constantly remind myself that social media is curated, that it only shows a sliver of actual life. I do wish that people were more real on social media, that they showed their imperfections at least a little bit more. That is why I like to share stories about my life, about my process through therapy, dating, etc. We are all in the struggle together, even if not everyone is openly sharing that side of life.
Do you have any hidden struggles, worries, concerns? Feel free to share with me! I don't profess to have answers, but it can definitely help to open up about fears. My recent worries have included how to make more money, if I'll find a worth partner, and battling the desire to be anti-social. Oh, and roaches. Unfortunately, I'm dealing with a roach infestation in my apartment. The apartment underneath me is undergoing construction and seems to have stirred up quite a few pests. It is totally embarrassing and gross and a hassle, but I guess that's life... sometimes imperfect.
Photo by: Elizabeth Lies