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Remember Carrie Bradshaw in one of the early seasons of SATC and how sad she was when Big married younger, taller, more beautiful, more successful girl from high society, Natasha? How desperate and inadequate she felt?
Until she received THAT letter. It was a thank you note and Natasha misspelled you’re/ your in the context. She called her friend Miranda and proclaimed: ‘The woman is an idiot!’ and life got better.
That’s how I sometimes feel when I’m going through several fashion bloggers’ Instagram feeds.
I was really picky while choosing who I follow on social media. I don’t want my feed to be so full I might miss important posts from my real life friends.
So there were no reality stars, no clones with long fake nails, super long blond extensions and all wearing the same bag (like the Gucci Marmont- I can’t tell you how sick I am of that bag right now, it’s everywhere !!!!)
No former local models turned fashion bloggers who we all know work as escorts in the world’s capitals.
I chose to follow some of the first wave of fashion bloggers whose feeds I found interesting. There were super skinny, super beautiful, super healthy, super polished women – with a few gay men thrown into the selection – with gorgeous boyfriends, rich parents, designer apartments, luxurious cars, traveling the world first class, attending fashion weeks and wearing haute couture. They were an inspiration, style-wise, of course.
I’m well aware I have no discipline for being a blogger. (Or being super healthy). I’m not going to lie. It was hard. Jealousy was strong. I wanted to be one of them, I wanted to wear those clothes. And use those 500$ face creams….
I’m not sure what came first, the realization that most of the clothes and cosmetics were sent to them for free and they were paid thousands to promote them, or that most of them don’t really have a personal style, they just put on what’s sent to them and cash it in.
There are endless selfies, photos of sideboob and almost pornographic make out sessions with the new bae. Not much fashion, just blatant self promotion. Isn’t that right, @chiaraferragni ?
What I call now ‘my Carrie Bradshaw moment’ was Snapchat Stories, followed by Instagram Stories. Suddenly everyone’s belief was that they had to share every single thought, drive, visit and meal. Everything. All the time. What used to be a well thought out process of putting on make up and clothes, styling the hair and taking your husband, friend or hired photographer out to shoot some photos for the latest blog post, became a line up of endless short movies about nothing. Often narrated with bad accents (I know my accent is ‘Russian,’ but I can’t stand hearing bad English in an Italian or German accent with a screechy voice) and failing to be funny interesting or cool.
Quoting my other favorite TV character, Dr. Gregory House, MD:
“People are idiots!”
I have nothing against my real life and internet friends sharing fractions of their life while they walk the dog or climb that beautiful mountain or get a new haircut or find a new neighborhood ice cream shop or visit that tropical island. I like those.
But strangers who turned out to be annoying blabbering idiots? Who make me feel second hand embarrassed for them? No thank you.
Unfollow. Unfollow. Unfollow!
Music festivals. Finding a perfect cross body festival bag and a pair of Hunter rain boots. Arctic Monkeys. Alex T. Bunnies on Instagram. Modern art. Gray Malin photography. Hemsworths. Anything and Everything Comic-Con. Snow.