Sometimes when I introduce myself to a new person I hesitate when asked “what I do.” Often it’s easiest just to say “I’m a fashion blogger” and call it a day. But I am clearly not a fashion blogger. Unless you mean an old school fashion blogger, of the type who posted outfits in her mirror and cut her head off (hehe). Then, yes, maybe I am. But even back then, we were not called “fashion bloggers”. We mostly posted on message boards, and some of us had our own websites, which were not blogs at that time (around 2003-4), they were “online magazines.” We posted outfits, and talked about shopping and style, just for fun.
I don’t even like to use the term “blogger” – what is that anyway? I’m a writer. Of a blog.
I might also be an entrepreneur, a consignment store owner? But that feels much too grown-up, and like it should be reserved for the people who know what they’re doing, not for me, a person who flys by the seat of her pants, and sometimes has no idea how she keeps things together.
I am a wearer-of-things. A lover of clothes. (I truly love clothes). I like to wear things, different things, interesting things, and then talk about those things; what I’m wearing, where I’m wearing it, and why I’m wearing it. I find it all endlessly fascinating. And I love to write about it.
At the end of the day does it matter what I call myself? Of course not. I don’t need to define myself, and I don’t want others to define me either. I abhor being in “a box.” And I especially dislike that others would put me in a box.
Haha. I just realized while I was writing this that all my life I’ve actually trying to fit myself in one. A box. If you’ve been reading for any length of time, you’ve probably sensed that I try, off and on, to define my style a certain way, define ME a certain way, and tend to really search and agonize over that very thing – WHY DON’T I FIT IN A BOX? – while at the same time NOT fitting into any box, accidentally and on purpose. I eventually discover that I don’t naturally fit into any box, and that I don’t really WANT to either.
There is a tension there, because I obviously haven’t quite come to terms with the fact that I don’t have a box. I don’t OWN it yet. A small part of me desperately wants to fit in (I was plagued with this all through school). That part of me wants to be defined as something, and know what the world expects of me based on that definition.
I also think that I perceive life to be “easier” in some way for people who “ARE” something definitive: mothers, doctors, students, even part of a religious group, etc, and know where they fit in.
I am just Grechen. Which is wonderful, I love Grechen 🙂
I know I’ll be able to own my nothingness eventually, and full IDGAF will take over, but for now, I’m still living with the struggle periodically.
And what does all this have to do with what I’m wearing?
Nothing really, except that as I’ve mentioned before, I stick out like a sore thumb here in the Dallas suburbs, and some days I feel it more acutely than others…