Lately, I've been thinking of upping and deleting this blog or maybe leaving it to spiral into the darkness of the world wide web abyss. I've realized also that I sound like a broken record, with posts usually going in this sequence - apologies for not blogging, I'm fat and lazy, let's buy clothes that fit and I'm tired of shopping.
Blogging feels empty a lot of times, even more frivolous than web surfing. I started to blog mostly because I felt passionately about buying ethical, well-made clothing and I loathed the fact that my indulgence was contributing in some tangential way to climate change, human rights abuses and all the things wrong in the world; things that have played out in frightening reality over the last few months and that have been discussed eloquently in quite a few blogs. I sometimes want to hit people over the head for their ignorance on current affairs and for continuing irresponsible habits. But the truth is that people have different priorities, income and tastes. We all agree that ethically-made clothing is expensive and terribly difficult to obtain and not everyone has the time or money or willpower to seek out these things. In fact, like eating organic food or buying artisanal cheeses or single-origin coffee, ethical-clothing is a luxury that a lot of us want but can't justify.
I've grown rather apathetic and exhausted just looking at blogs and magazines that seem to continually push a certain alternate reality - one where it seems that you can make printed art and pressed flowers all day and still afford vintage Boro rugs, Eames chairs and a closet full of APC. I mean, most days I get up, work until I look like a disaster at 3pm and continuing plowing on with a jug of coffee in my belly, and I mean literally a 33.8oz Stelton jug full of intensely over-caffeinated coffee (I also have a theory that's how the Zombie Apocalypse will start). I run errands, do chores, feed one hungry dog and one overworked husband, and by the end of the day, when all the good lighting that bloggers go on and on about is gone, I just want to sleep, play Candy Crush or watch a movie - sometimes all three at once. Despite all that, I make pocket change and leech off of my husband. Life is already exhausting and unfulfilling, I really don't need looking at blogs and magazines to make me feel worse about myself.
Sure, I still want to buy nice clothes because my self-confidence is inextricably and embarrassingly linked to how good I look. But growing older has made me realized that some days, I'm too tired to care. There's so many more things to think about or to spend my money on e.g. traveling, buying a house, building a chicken coop, donating to spineless Democrats, etc., etc. Most days, I just want to feel warm, be comfortable and not have to worry about scuffing my shoes or setting my bag down in mud. I want to be able to go from field work to lunch to a walk with my dog to cleaning the yard without having to change or to use protective leather spray. Do you really think a pair of clippity-clop Dicker boots and hernia-inducing skinny jeans is going to help me achieve that seamlessly? I've taken to looking like a mountain-climbing lumberjack, wearing an endless rotation of the same 5 pieces that don't make me feel bloated. In fact, I wear these 5 pieces so often, I'm thinking of stocking up on multiples of them. The rest of the clothes that I have apparently so carefully "curated", lie unfolded and unironed in a giant pile in the back of the closet. I've garnered so much expensive, unused crap over the years that I get violently nauseated just looking at it. And that, dear readers, is not something that I want to blog about.
I know what you are all thinking - all I ever do is whine and moan and be utterly immature. Blogs aren't real! Just live vicariously through them! Magazines are aspirational! Nobody wants to read about your whining! We need better gun control laws! (see what I did there)? In all serious-ness though, I know these things. My point is that I sometimes feel as if I am personal failure when it comes to blogging - I don't have a purpose or a goal, sometimes I rant about conscious emption, other times I go on and on about shoes and clothing and wishlists and spending more money. As I've come more and more into figuring out exactly what I am trying achieve in my personal style, blogging has become more mundane and disappointing, bordering on futile. There are so many great blogs out there that post erudite discussions on the sustainability and ethics of fashion more eloquently than I can (Empty Emptor and The Nife in L'Air come to mind), other blogs do a better job of pointing you to the latest deals or the latest trends or the latest five-points to looking French. All of which leads to my blog being simultaneously unimportant and banal - the only thing that seems to keep it going is my perpetual rage and existentialism and a polite audience of loyal readers.
I spend most of my time these days dreaming about houses, cooking a lot (as evidenced by my Instagram) and working my arse off to get the hell out of grad school. I don't know if that's part of growing older or if that's just the siren bells of giving up and resigning to a suburban life, but the ennui stemming from style blogging is one that's been simmering for a while. I think that as I start realizing the tremendous responsibilities that adulthood brings, clothing and all the preposterously self-indulgent things in life seem so trivial. And maybe it's the sense of maturity and the process of maturing is what will finally lead one towards actual responsible consumerism.