I try ever so hard to fit in. I study, I read, I watch, observe and take notes.
I've been watching you, fashionista bloggers of my 'hood.
OK - you're young, in your twenties with a bod and complexion unsullied by life. Your shots are artfully staged against backdrops of significant architectural gravitas, utilising tilt-shift and vignetting to signify Serious (Art).
Can you really walk in those heels?
And what's with the little girly pigeon-toed stance? Rickets?
How do you afford your Stuff? Is thrift a dirty word?
You're just Far Too Young (and I say this most kindly).
Take a peek at the real real fashion bloggers - you know, the ladies who have some life behind them (they're the over-forty crowd - yes, older than thirty) and know a thing or two about dressing themselves to avoid the clone wars. They understand their bodies and can pull together an assemblage which screams, i am an individual not a victim ... unlike you, poor child.
Of course you look great in anything on trend - you have pert but flat boobs, no arse and haven't yet experienced laughter lines or thought deeply about whether it actually suits you. Fashion is built for you with the figure of a 15-year-old (boy). It's not for women.
One day, you'll know what I'm talking about.
And then there'll be some other knock-kneed kid posing online who'll annoy you simply because they're fashionable and you never in a million years will fit that definition.
And then you'll discover real (personal) style.
And yes, women over forty should wear red lipstick.
... and mini skirts.
Collage made using photogrid.
