Thoughts on Blogging

Tenby, South Wales

I’ve been absent here. Not that anyone would notice the lack of posts on a website that I set up and subsequently neglected. I don’t even think I’ve shared the link anywhere. Nevertheless, there is one person who has noticed that absence, and it’s me.

I’d ruminated on the idea of an online space for a long time. Having started to dip my pen back into the ink of writing - both metaphorically and literally - the idea of creating a blog to share my ramblings felt like a coming home of sorts. Throughout my early twenties I dedicated myself to my fashion blog. hosted on blogspot, it was a stream of consciousness of anything and everything I found sartorially inspiring. I’d spend my evenings poured over my printer, scanning the latest editorial from vogue onto my laptop, before uploading to photobucket, and then my blog. Then writing something witty about how much I wanted a pair of Prada shoes even though they cost more than my monthly (or even quarterly) income.

I did it because I loved it. It didn’t matter if one person read it, or one hundred (I’m not sure it was ever one hundred.) And, I did it without fear.

Back in my early blogging days, the expectation wasn’t to monetise or have a career, it was true hobby. Granted, it was one that helped me secure some fashion internships, and also a ‘highly commended’ certificate in the 2012 Cosmopolitan blog awards, but they were icing on the cake rather than the end goal.

Since then, Blogging has grown to cover more than just your own website; it’s Twitter/X, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok. Even Vine, for a time. The Bloggers of 2012 are now Influencers, some of whom seem more passionate about sharing for the possibility of making a fortune, rather than the genuine love of what they’re doing.

I don’t want that, but there was something about coming back to the online space, 12 years on, that made me feel that I should want it.

‘Should’ is ‘Could’ with shame attached.*

Today, reading over my old blog, with it’s open letters to designers that were never read, and it’s wish lists of items I could still never afford, has made me realise something - I’ve been scared to post because I don’t know what I offer in a space that is so over saturated. Why would people care what I post? Who am I to think that my words deserve to be online? This is maybe getting a bit deep, but it’s true.

Re-reading the posts from my early twenties, however, made me realise something: It. Doesn’t. Matter. The whole point of this website was to share the things I love, unapologetically. To be a bit cringe and show how I was finding my ‘Water to Bloom’. Somehow I lost that, but I think I’ve got it back. I stopped Blogging because life took over, and now, I know how to balance both.

It doesn't matter if one person reads this, or one hundred. Arranging inspiration into posts and putting my fingerprints to the pads on the keyboard is enough.

Plus, there’s one thing that is different about this blog compared to the millions of others out there: Me.

*I read this somewhere but have lost my note on who originally said/wrote it - it wasn’t me!