I finally feel I can explain the reasons behind my recent hiatus from blogging. A few things coincided at once a few weeks ago, and it lead to my needing a break from here, and from other things, to fully digest what was going on inside my head. This is why I've been missing.
One; the reality check that was London Fashion Week. After my initial feelings of excitement at receiving a coveted press pass for LFW began to dissolve, I was left with a nagging suspicion - that it was going to be a huge disappointment. With the constant stream of magazines, photographs, tweets, instagram pictures, and more, it's easy to be seduced by what looks like the very glamorous world of fashion - the beautiful people, carrying beautiful designer handbags, who are driven around in beautiful cities, in beautiful cars. The reality, I discovered, even before I walked under the gates to Somerset House, was quite different. Especially if you aren't a "someone".
However, when I arrived, it was with a good heart. I was eager to take whatever I could from the experience, to talk to as many people as possible, and hopefully use whatever contacts I made to help further what I had planned to be a career in fashion, thanks, in part, to the success and enjoyment I have earned from writing this blog.
I won't go into why LFW was so disappointing, because frankly, it's taken me this long to feel I could even face logging into my blog. But let's just say my hopes of feeling like I was part of something at LFW, of being thrown together with a group of interesting people, all with a similar interest, were quickly thwarted. What I saw were people looking sideways at one an other, all wondering where the party was, or worse still, people who believed they were the party. My friend Felix asked me (jokingly?!), "Couldn't you pose hard enough?" That pretty much sums up the gates of Somerset House to me.
This all lead to some serious doubts and considerations as to whether a future in fashion would be a healthy path for me to take (a question I'm still asking myself, but, like the sneaky suspicion I felt weeks before even attending LFW, my gut is telling me otherwise.) I left day 2 feeling hugely depressed about the fashion world, and suddenly, I couldn't face reading any blogs or magazines. Why? I could no longer see the soul in what I was doing.
I'm determined to find a way to keep my blog alive, as it has always been very enjoyable for the most part. However, I want to make sure I channel a little more sincerity into this place, and not just become another fashion blogger contributing to the endless supply of consumerism and mindless posts about what they have bought/want to buy/regrets buying etc, etc, etc. I stopped and asked myself a difficult question I had been avoiding: What does any of this all really mean? Yes, I like to have nice things, but experiences, places, and most of all, people, are the key to my happiness.
The realisation that my interest in fashion and blogging, weren't really feeding my soul, thankfully, coincided with the discovery of something very rewarding and challenging. I have a new hobby - aviation! Okay, maybe that sounded a little dramatic - borderline cheesy, but it's true, I'm learning to fly.
There is nothing like it. I've only had a handful of lessons, but it is truly intoxicating. Being up there, it's a huge tangle of emotions - excitement, fear, pride, nerves. It's as much an experience for your body, as well as your mind - sensory overload.
20 years ago, my father lived on the edge of a little airfield, and he and my mother both learnt to fly. It was a place I always heard a lot about growing up, but we ended up moving away when I was a baby, and continued hopping about from place to place all through my childhood.
A few months ago my parents took a trip back to this place they had once called home, and discovered that, in fact, not much had changed - people were still there, and very happy to see their old friends. These are people who remember me as a baby, so I don't really remember them as such, but feel like I already know them, thanks to the stories my parents told me and my sister, more often than not, on the long drive to our next temporary home. Discovering this place was like coming home - a feeling I had never experienced, and always yearned for.
I hope this explains my lack of updates. You see, over the last few weeks, I've had my head in the clouds, quite literally at times.
This is me starting a new chapter. A positive one, and hopefully, a more meaningful one.