Today I happened to stumble across a blog which seems to have been around for a long time, and been making a big deal for a long time. Comments are approaching triple figures (I think my record has been 12!). After flicking through the blog archives for a looong time - yes, I will go to incredible lengths to avoid revision - I even found several mentions in magazines such as Teen Vogue.
Jane of Sea of Shoes is a female blogger who writes about style and is the same age as me. I am still a little shocked that I only came across the blog now.
I suppose our similarities do end there. She has an entire wall of heels; I have one pair of heels which cost £15 in the Office sale and are rarely worn. Her wardrobe is a mixture of insanely expensive designer gear and vintage; I could count on my hands the number of 'labels' and vintage in my wardrobe. She's skinny, rich, blonde, American... so no surprise that I was unaware of her presence, since I do tend to stick to the higher-level writing of all you lovely bloggers who may actually be reading this post!
OK, enough. You may have noticed a slight unpleasant whiff of the envy which drenched every word in the previous paragraph. Yes, I will freely admit that my initial reaction to Jane's undeniably fabulous wardrobe was jealousy, followed by that reaction which human beings tend to produce when showing their jealousy would not be suitable: disapproval. 'Does she know how much those heels will damage her?' and 'she doesn't seem to have any friends but her shoes!' and 'she's so spoilt!!!!' are all examples of the poisonous thoughts which may drift through an envious reader's mind.
I am sure that there is plenty of judging that could be done about me. I like to think that it comes from jealousy. And in my dislike of judging and jealousy, I will have to do my best to merely admire Jane's blog and admit that she does indeed have a wonderful eye for stunning outfits. Most importantly, it's brilliant escapism.
One thing I didn't mention is the human's other response to realising that they are jealous. We also enjoy finding aspects of our lives which are infinitely better than this otherwise superlative person. And I can safely say that I have found mine. For five days a week, Jane has to wear a school uniform (I hadn't realised these existed in America; I assume she probably goes to a more traditional private school) and can only showcase her fine apparel at the weekends. I, on the other hand, am now free to step out in my slobby style seven days a week - that's what I was referring to in my first bullet point in yesterday's post - because I now no longer have to wear a uniform ever, ever again.