I’ve always been rather fascinated by ‘style bloggers’ (not fascinated enough to ever follow a style blog, mind. But fascinated nonetheless). What really interests me are two things: first, how do you end up with a perception of your wardrobe that’s so totally at odds with how most of us see ours? Because, let’s face it, the vast majority of us think our own clothes are shit. And yes, we might have chosen them, but that doesn’t mean anything. We’re crap at this sort of thing.
The second thing is, how is being a style blogger remotely sustainable? How can you ‘rock’ a different look day after day, even if you’re using the whole “accessories totally transform an outfit” fib? I mean, if I were a style blogger, you’d notice straight away that I’m wearing the same jumper I wore yesterday. It’s fine; I’ve sniffed the underarms and everything. And my pants and tights are clean on. But still, you can’t tell that from a photo alone. If you were checking my site on a daily basis, you’d just think “wow! that woman may take some style risks with the whole 2010 retro vibe, but if you ask me, she’s just a little bit, well, unsavoury”.
The latest thing in style blogging is, apparently, “school-run” blogging, whereby mothers give an update on what they’ve worn to drop off their kids. Personally I find the specificity of this a bit weird. Do these women keep these outfits on for the rest of the day? Are they only ever seen first thing, when they’re saying goodbye to their offspring? And if so, rather than blogging away, shouldn’t they be reading some Marilyn French and breaking the chains of domesticity? Perhaps leaving the house to do other things every now and then? Just sayin’ (or maybe the “what I wore to Tesco’s” and “my post office catwalk” blogs are still a work in progress).
Whether or not it’s the tip of the iceberg, I find this whole phenomenon pretty damn depressing. According to the Daily Mail (always a bad way to start a sentence):
The new online fashion gurus — often stay-at-home mothers — draw their inspiration instead from the High Street and friends, blogging their thoughts when the children are at school or in bed. Their blogs feature tops that are on-trend, washable and affordable, heels in which you can push a Bugaboo and jeans that won’t reveal an unbecoming eyeful of underwear when you crawl around the floor at playgroup.
Give me strength! If I could afford a) a Bugaboo and b) to be a stay-at-home mother, I’d probably still go out to work and buy designer clothes instead. Only kidding. I haven’t a clue what I’d do (run for the hills?). But please, in the meantime – there’s realistic and realistic. And none of this sounds like, um, the realistic one of the two realistics which I just proposed.
So there I am, the scummer at the gates. The woman who looks a prat at work and now, it appears, a prat outside of work as well. Just how many sodding uniforms does a woman now need? Can I not just have one of those pink housecoats like my gran used to wear and keep that on for everything? No? And while to some style bloggers a top for £50 apparently engages with the “harsh economic realities” of being a mum, it seems a bit pricey to me. My imaginary, never-going-to-happen style blog would just have just one link: Ebay, Ebay, Ebay. Ebay’s fucking brill for clothes. Mind you, sometimes when you get them in the post, they pong a bit. Evidently the former owners don’t always sniff the underarms like I do.