I have a confession to make. Both before and after my last week's post on style blogging and style narratives I have spent a good amount of time browsing through blogs and style websites that I don't normally follow. I do that every once in a while, to get a feel of what type of world exists beyond my own blog and the blogs that I read actively. I do it to reaffirm my own commitment to spending less, thrifting, and writing about clothes in a way that makes me feel good about my own style and spending. In a sense, I look at "the other side" of style blogging to recognize what my own blogging is about. There are times when the end result is a harmonious sigh of relief, an awareness that I am in a good place, and then there are times, like last week, when the whole concept of style blogging feels overwhelming and meaningless. I think this is a good thing. As you all know by now, I have the tendency to complicate simple things by engaging in excessive thinking and over-analysis, and in order to shake that system that inhabits my brain, it is good for me to tap into my gut feelings at times, even if the end results look a little ugly. With your help, my dear readers, I always reach at-least-momentary clarity and enlightenment about why I have a blog in the first place. Milla's comment last week echoed the reasons behind my blogging beautifully: that at the heart of my style blogging is the need to belong, to meet people who understand why I make the types of style choices I do, the need to share my love for beautiful things that make me happy with like-minded people.
Since I started blogging, my personal style narrative has gone from general frustration to a happier place and back to occasional moment of frustration, from pale pastels and girly vintage-y clothes to studs, faux-leather leggings and superficial fashion, to circle skirts, and now, to flared jeans and dreamcatcher earrings. It is not just that the clothes have changed. It is at the heart of all narratives to move forward, to hit highs and lows, to make some sense of (or simply portray) our choices, and to show those choices to others the best we can.
This means, then, that all narratives matter, despite how fictional they might be. Like Cynthia wrote in her comment, "any time a deliberately self-reflective person sits down to construct some kind of narrative about themselves, it becomes like art and not quite like reality." All narratives are fictional, to some extent, because fiction is in their nature. And there is nothing wrong with that. They still provide us a way to understand the human experience, or in the case of style blogging, the experience of being a woman in postmodern times attracted to beautiful things, and surrounded by a culture that encourages, to use Jesse.anne.o's brilliant term, "consumption unexamined".