Some nights I sit in front of a blank text box and wonder how on earth I write a regular fashion blog. It's a task often more tedious than rewarding, especially going into our fourth year of near-daily posts. I wrote once about blogger ennui; but by day this inches closer to blogger burnout. Ploughing your life and personal interests for what might be riveting to others is tiring business, especially when you suspect your life really is interesting to no one but yourself (if that).
But of course, if that were true, we wouldn't have a regular readership that spans larger than two people (the number, sadly, is likely not much higher, but it still is slightly). We wouldn't have Facebook. Instagram wouldn't have been the fastest-growing app of last year (a fact I pretty much made up but suspect is true). For some reason, everybody else's life is endlessly interesting to us. Why I click on sites to see what strangers wore in the last week is really beyond me. Is it the inspiration? Is it the voyeurism? Is it a way of measuring up my life against someone else's? Why are we such nosy bastards?
I don't really know. But this is my roundabout way of reintroducing the long-forgotten outfit post to this blog. Some relics from Instagram history, which shouldn't be interesting to anyone... but maybe for some reason they are. My style is so inconsistent sometimes that I wish I could trash my whole closet and restart it from scratch, better curated and more directional, or maybe cohesive is the word. But I know it would hurt too much.