Impatiences Makes Perfect

Hurr we go. Le blog is being created, but like every journey I embark on, waiting is not an option. Not only does everyone in the world need to know about fashion through this shattered glass, but I need to write it RIGHT NOW. Day after day the thoughts pop in my mind, and day after day I itch at the moment to post a perfect script on an imaginary page... blogging in the air stinks a big one. 

So it has come to this. 45 minutes of blog construction on an never complete page. Did you know there are a million changes one makes to a "Simple Template" page? And in the midst of this all I laugh, because it is everything my life consist of. Constant construction. Constant chaos. Constant fur.

Okay, the fur doesn't fit. But this is the epitome of the blog I am bringing to you, or perhaps to no one but myself. At a recent SXSW panel I had the opportunity to hear the great Man Repeller speak. I do not call her by name because she is a godly blogger, not a person. Kidding, she is a person, but I came to know her as the Man Repeller so that she shall stay.

But at this said panel I learned some things. I learned that blogging has taken over the fashion world. And with eager eyes researched the many a bloggetts (made up word). I then learned there are, for the most part, two kinds of bloggers. The girls who are born into a high profile family and grew up with a gold spoon and Dior booties. And the kind who want everything for less. They have all the tricks and know the best spots to get deals. They are what my grandma deems the shoppers who know how.

Then there is me. The closest to gold I came was getting the food off the floor before the dog, and looking at a sale rack is equivalent to looking at a math problem. I don't get it. Like the best of ideas, it hit me! All I have to do is write about that girl. The one who knows the definition of starving for clothes. Not that "Oh I didn't eat a whole bagel only half so I can get those shoes," but actually not eating for weeks to own a little piece of Marc Jacobs' pie. Yet life takes it's piece too, when I have to show up to Neiman Marcus in a 1992 Pontiac Grand AM because the Jeep is being worked on and my dad just can't seem to part with "The family's only dependable car."

They tell me it is better than walking, but my Tory Burch flats don't agree.

Yes. That is my life. I am a girl of class, in a world of clash. To many this wont matter, but I'm not one to hush it when no one is listening. I will strive to be a new kind of blogger. I am the chic in shambles.