You know when you’re fresh out of college, starting a new entry-level job, and you’re just so overwhelmed with free time that you decide to start a fashion blog? Yeah, me neither, but my newsfeed is inundated with every girl I know posting her two cents about which restaurants she’s frequenting and which outfits she snagged on a budget off Topshop. And somehow, somewhere along the way, someone gave her the false encouragement that her amateur opinion was valid enough to consider herself a “tastemaker” deserving of her own website.
This girl probably majored in marketing (with a minor in textile design or something), had the cutest rush outfits, and was always told by her friends that she looked “adorbs.” Which, she probably did, but that’s neither here nor there. Now, for the last three years, these thoughts have materialized and she’s having fever dreams imagining her blog joining the likes of Garance Dore, Man Repeller, and Olivia fuckin’ Palermo.
“You know what? My gay friend James has a really nice camera and I bet he’d take photos of me on the street in my outfits,” she thinks to herself. “I’ll talk to Rach about a blogging platform too. She’s, like, so into that whole tech-y world that it’s crazy. I already have some potential names for it.”
This is where it gets awesome. Pretty much every one of these fashionistas follows the same formula to crushing their dot-blogspot domain name: (Foodie-Ism) + & + (Fashion Staple or Designer) = The Most Adorable Blog Name Known To Man. Here, I just came up with like fifty: Meringue & Manolos, Calories & Cardigans, Benedicts & Bandeaus, Crabcakes & Cavalli, Sauvignon & Strapless. It’s a foolproof method and I haven’t trademarked any of those yet so have at ’em.
And thus the vicious cycle begins. She begins with a post that says, “I finally took the plunge and started a blog” followed by a generic and abstract shot of Paris and/or Chanel sunglasses. The next weekend, she takes her style to the street for the premier photoshoot of the much anticipated Caviar & Corduroy unveiling where she seamlessly matches her fall color palette with the freshly fallen foliage.
Week Two? We’re talking floppy hats and a raincoat that’s versatile enough for the office and the tailgate. The weather isn’t cooperating as much as it did Week One, so have James’s photos come out better? Sure, but this is just the second post. They’ll surely get better.
Week Three trickles in, but, chronologically, it’s more along the lines of Week Four or Five because her parents visited the weekend before so she was overwhelmed with brunches and errands. It’s tough, but the site is still in it’s infancy so three posts in four weeks is totally acceptable…right?
But then we enter the dark period. “Did she give up?” her thirteen loyal followers/friends from high school/college roommates ask. “This was so short-lived and had so much potential. I really thought she had found her niche.”
Another week passes. Still nothing.
Then there’s a shining beacon of hope: a Tuesday post beginning with, “I know, I know. I haven’t been posting much lately because of my hectic schedule, but I finally have more time to dedicate to Caviar & Corduroy.” Unfortunately, we all know that if “ifs” and “buts” were beer and nuts, we’d have ourselves a heck of a party. But, this isn’t a heck of a party. It’s a long-forgotten and neglected fashion blog that’s making us all feel bad for you for even starting.
Fast forward three months after that initial first post that says, “I finally took the plunge and started a blog” and you’ll find her final post that feels empty, forced, and acts as the final signifier that she truly wasn’t mean to work for Vogue like she once dreamt.
“I’ve always considered myself more of a foodie anyway,” she reluctantly tells herself over a glass of pinot and an episode of The Mindy Project. And the cycle continues..
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