I know most people don’t actually read blogs, at least not fashion blogs, simply because a picture is worth a 1000 words. Not true. Because half the times the stuff written alongside the pics isn’t worth reading. (Sure hope any bells aren’t going off right now …)
I have to admit I too don’t read most of the blogs I follow. I read only a hand full because I feel like I’ve gotten to know the person and I genuinely want to know what’s going on in their lives or what they are thinking about. There’re also a few blogs I read because the girls are so painfully gorgeous and have such impeccable style that I have to read what they write to feel better when I find a grammatical error or a spelling mistake. Something like Carrie in Sex in the City when she got a thank-you letter from Big’s wife, who spelled there as their. I know – it’s petty, pitiful and pathetic all wrapped into one.
So why do I feel the need to drone on, even though it might all be in vain? Because I hate doing stuff just because it seems the norm. And I love to drone. BUT … It was brought to my attention by a person you all know or at least “know” (her name is in the header) that I too should post an outfit pic from time to time since this is or aspires to be a fashion blog among other things. But how am I supposed to justify posting pics of myself?? “You’re smart, you’ll figure something out,” said miss Header.
Of course, there’s another hurdle: I’m the mayor, the president and the head cheerleader of self-criticisms. “Give me an S, give me an E, give me an L …” Those cheering girlies are some needy chicks, just gimme, gimme, gimme, aren’t they?? So as the president of self-criticism, it is my duty to dissect the very soul of … Well, everything. Greece might have given us the concept of an atom and some 19 centuries later people realized that there’s also a neutron, a proton and an electron, but to call those the smallest indivisible particles? Please. I can see more with my naked eye and I assure you that there’s more to dissect and especially more to criticize.
Regardless of my hesitations, I decided to obey the words coming from above, which brings me to today’s post. I somehow wanted to make the pics relevant in case anyone does read the words. This’ll probably be the only time I’ll successfully do so – guess I’m not that smart after all. Sob.
Back to Numbers
An analytical mind might argue that numbers do count. If you ask me, it really depends on the number.
I can’t deny the importance of some numbers – for example, the number on your paycheque that’s worthy of a hardworking human being. The number on your paycheque, period. The percentage on your exam. The number on your grocery bill. Your credit card PIN number, which you always forget, when you’re standing at the pay desk and there’s 7 people in line behind you. The number of body parts – you can do well without a finger or even more than one, but if you get the number of kidneys wrong by 2, that’s a completely different story. The number of recent sexual partners when you find out that you have an STD – it’s better to call just 3 people and tell them, than to call 56.
So ok, some numbers are important, I’ll give you that. But nobody can convince me that the number of singles you paid for your car matters. Or the number of designer shoes in your closet. Or the number, which appears on the scale when you step on it. Or the number of friends you have, digital or analogue. Or the number of years you have been pounding the soil of this globe, be it 16 or 56. Some things are just more real than a number. Besides, no science is exact, not even when it involves a whole bunch of numbers. Just ask Einstein.
Pics taken by the awesome Veronica. Tnx, V!
Blazer: C&A//jersey top: Newyorker (men)//jeans: Bershka//shoes: Deichmann//bag: eBay//sunglasses: H&M
Have a look at this. This guy is hilarious. When I saw the clip I thought why the hell do I still make references to a TV series, which stopped airing 8 years ago?! “She’s such a Samantha!”