Time isn't real, but you are

Time isn’t real. It’s like my own personal existential crisis laced mantra but recently it’s begun to feel painfully true. You’d think I’d be used to that feeling by now; after all, mine (and maybe your) sense of time and space has been warped beyond comprehension since March 2020. And yet, the fact I was in a hotel bar just a few days ago clinking in yet another new year still managed to jut me in the ribs as a champagne flavoured shock. 

Why? I can never quite put my finger on it. It’s not as if the past 365 days have flitted by without memory or meaning. So much has happened and yet I’m pulled in by the same kind of sadness

I feel on my birthday; it’s warm, hopeful, it’s nostalgic and bittersweet. The overwhelming tidal wave

of another year gone by quickly replaced by another as if it had been there all along. A relentlessness that’s both full of what could have been but also of promise. *Sigh*

It’s supposed to be a shining symbolic beacon, newness and reinvention. Thankfully, most of the ‘new year, new me’ rhetoric has fizzled out, but the remnants still very much linger in various shapes or forms, which isn’t in of itself a bad thing. My skepticism towards this drive for change has similarly waned over the years, but I’m still a stickler for needing the reason behind it. In other words, not changing because we’ve completed another trip around the sun, but because we want to. 

And what about the changes we’ve collected without even realising it? The ones we didn’t need diet plans or resolutions for. While the places we find ourselves in on 1 January may feel painfully the same, we are not. We’ve been heartbroken, we’ve been head over heels, we’ve discovered parts of ourselves we’re trying to understand and come to terms with. Even if time isn’t real, the way we have become different people - not better or worse - is a poignant reminder that we very much are. 

Happy 2023, I hope you’re keeping well and staying safe - I promise my next post will be more upbeat, maybe.

Photos by the incredible PortraitsByRita 

xxx

You don't have to be the cool girl

 

I've always wanted to be the cool girl. You know exactly the girl I'm talking about too - your mind conjures up that particular brand of effortless-easy-breezy-Effie-Stonem-doesn’t-give-a-shit chic. She can put together the perfect all black outfit, complete with smoked out midnight liner and a milkless espresso to match, but in a way that makes it look like she doesn't care. Like she rolled out of bed from a party the night before and somehow looks the perfect mix of careless yet put together. An effortless contradiction. In other words, she doesn’t exist.

I think my first desire to be the cool girl was at school (i.e. the breeding ground for all of our past trauma, but dear reader, that's another blog post for another time). I remember every hint of explicit femininity being demonised; from owning a glittery pink pencil case to shedding a single tear on the school playground because you tripped and ripped open your knee. Anything vaguely linked to teenage girlhood was seen as a weakness and a flaw. As far as I knew, boys didn't want girls who expressed how they felt, boys wanted girls who didn't outwardly seem to exhibit any emotion at all. And back then all my self-worth lay with, you’ve guessed it, male validation, so naturally, I rose to the challenge. Unlike the ‘not like other girls’ girl, the aim of the cool girl is not to be desired. It is almost the opposite in fact, not caring if she desired at all, and why would she? She's got to focus on making sure her hair looks just tousled enough to look like she didn't spend two and a half hours on it.

Of course, experimenting with different aesthetics is pretty harmless, and something we all dove into during successive pandemics. But it becomes more of an issue when parts of a particular character seep deeper than surface level, namely when you're locking away crucial parts of who you are for so long that you can no longer find the key. Or even worse, you forget there was ever a door.

From the point I realised I was interested in boys (a dark time), I've thought - or at least I've told myself - that I wasn't dependent on having relationships. That somehow wanting a connection with someone else was a weakness, and that they were something I could easily take or leave. Rather than seeking anything out, I'd often find myself in the position of becoming friends with someone I really liked, before either getting out as quickly as possible or reluctantly entering into something I didn't really want to, because (and this is painful to type), I was straying from being the cool girl. In either case of course, I was doomed to fail. I was clinging so tightly onto being this version of something I thought was right - namely easygoing, distant, the opposite of 'needy' - that it made me lose sight of what I really wanted. Of course, this hard exterior often faltered, namely in the form of Tumblr poetry saturated with my inner-most feelings (and pretty poor metaphors). But also in my breakups. While throughout the relationship itself I’d manage to give a pretty convincing performance of being the ‘one who cares less’, when it reached its inevitable end, the emotions would sweep me off my feet like a tidal wave. Suddenly it would hit me how much I fucking cared about this other person and how much losing what we had was going to hurt. The cool girl was nowhere to be seen.

Even now, even with all the hindsight and self awareness, this longing to be someone I think I should be is still very much there. I’m still scared of caring too much, of being too much, of immersing myself fully. I give people parts of myself, but never everything, and that’s ok of course. We all have worlds inside of us that noone may ever know anything about. But it’s something that has swelled to the surface recently, being at a point in my life where I’m having to make proper grown up decisions about things. I’ve convinced myself I don’t want to do things despite holding myself back so tightly I wouldn’t actually know if I did. The longing to be the cool girl has morphed into something else; more than lived in liner and refusing to message first on msn, it’s an entrenched fear of wanting to get too involved in anything. Why? I guess there’s a million reasons, but most vividly, is the fear it’s going to go wrong. That I’ll have cared so much, when it does go wrong, it’ll hurt.

And that’s what I’m just now beginning to come to terms with. That being hurt is part of being human. That feelings are messy and spill out over the sides. That emotion isn’t a weakness. That things can and do go wrong. But maybe it's not that they're wrong, maybe they’re just not what you expected them to be.

Unfortunately this isn’t one of those posts that can be neatly enveloped and sealed with witty conclusion. But if it is something you can relate to, I hope it makes you feel a little less alone. I’m sending you all love during these stranger than strange times (though that word barely seems to touch the sides anymore) and stay safe. 

Georgia xxx

Main character energy

Whether you're taking selfies in a public toilet, re-watching the US version of the Office or swanning around Stockport pretending to be Cruella Deville, just a little reminder that you're always the main character in your own life. Here's to making that plot twist a good'n. Happy Saturday ❤

Photos by the incredible Livia Lazar

2021: Remembering the good

Hi, how are you?

As is traditional for me, it’s been a while. 

There’s no particular reason, and I’m fine, truly I am, but I feel like I’m on autopilot. As I have felt for most of this year to be honest. 

I say this at the conclusion of every year as it passes, but seriously where has this year gone??

Cynically chatting about 2020 and the bleak reality of a lockdown Christmas with

my friends could have happened yesterday. And yet here we are, 365 days later. 

Of course, amidst the grey days, there have been moments of brilliance too. Moments where I’ve really appreciated life and how thankful I am for every aspect of it. Seeing people irl for the first time in a long time, or ever. Going back to the cinema. Listening to a new album from start to finish. Trying to pronounce wines I can’t pronounce. Walking without purpose. Getting on a train and inevitably losing my ticket. Speaking to strangers. Feeling things again like nothing had changed. 

Anyway, I wanted to write something before the year is out, basically as a reminder of these sparkly joyous little things. Because looking at them altogether, they actually amount to quite a big thing. 

I hope you have a wonderful festive season and New Year. Here’s to those moments of happiness; there’s plenty more to come. 

Lots of love, Georgia xxx

These photos are by the wonderful Martin J Sylvester on a much warmer Manchester day. Go and check him out on Instagram. 

 

FYI, You're so much more than what you look like

 

My own self image has always been a bit of a strange topic for me. How I see myself has been a bit of a rollercoaster throughout the years, and whilst the steep drops and loop-the-loops are now few and far between, that doesn’t mean I’m not faced with a sharp turn every now and then. Especially when faced with my own reflection more than I’d like.

I’m not talking about the hall of mirrors (don’t worry, that theme park metaphor died in the last paragraph), but rather, being at home more than we usually would be. Eighteen months or so in fact, give or take. The quick glance at yourself in the hallway mirror on the way out has grown into the peering at your thumbnail in the corner of every Google hangout to make sure you still look engaged after two hours. The insta pressure to make sure your pals know you’re having a good time 24/7. The scrolling, scrolling and more scrolling before checking your front camera and feeling sad that you don’t have a chance in hell of ever looking like that girl you don’t even know. Told you it was a rollercoaster.

I’ve been told to stop worrying about what I look like, to stop thinking about what others think, and to stop letting my insecurities about my appearance get in the way. Because oh boy, do those insecurities get in the way. And the funny thing is, you and I know they’re not even real. Not really. The only thing giving them life and allowing them to breathe are the big corporations which continue to capitalise off of them. Lips too thin? Plump them. Eye bags too big? Conceal them. Skin not smooth, radiant or youthful enough? You’re going to need at least five different creams. That’ll be £782 please. Imagine if we just stopped buying things the patriarchy told us to buy because we simply don’t need them? Anarchy. 

And yet, even though I know all of this, I still feel that incredible pressure to conform. To fit in. To look a certain way. And sure, a lot of that I do for myself - make up, clothes, hair, skin care etc. - but there is a part of me which does wonder, is it really for me? Or is it just my own internalised male gaze?  I could literally write a whole book on this; the theory that even when we’re alone,  everything we do is subconsciously just to serve the male point of view. A harrowing and depressing thought, but an intriguing one none the less. (For the record, when I’m dressing up at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon to make a Halloween outfit reel, I’m pretty sure that is for me and me alone. No man, or woman tbh, wants to see me in yet another £5 eBay wig.) 

So where do we go from here? Whilst I don’t think there’s really a clear cut and dry answer, I do think awareness is a good starting point. Simply being more conscious of the reasons why you’re doing things and being safely assured in the knowledge that the sole purpose of you and your body extends far beyond what you look like. You’re so, so much more than that. 

It’s been a while since I wrote a proper blog post so please excuse the above tangential ramble (let’s be honest, what’s new?) I’m interested in talking more personally about a couple of things around this topic, body image etc, but always end up chickening out. Do people want to read that kind of thing? If anything, I guess it would be a cheap alternative to therapy for me. 

Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well, keeping safe and staying sane. Sending love xxx

Fields of gold

Hi, hello. Happy Saturday. Just checking in to see how you are. 

I don’t know about you, but at the moment I sort of feel like I’m drifting between one thing and the next. Things still feel up in the air. Time seems to be rushing by and I’m struggling to grasp it. How on earth it will soon be October I do not know. I feel like New Year’s was last week. 

Thankfully over the past couple of days I’ve been able to escape and spend some time in one of my favourite places. You know that overwhelming wave of familiarity and comfort you feel when you make a return trip somewhere you know and love? That, a lot. It served as a much needed reminder that things are still there, just as we left them.  

Anyway, here are some thoughtful photos from simpler times with the lovely Lewis Baker. I hope you’re doing OK and I promise I won’t leave it so long next time. Love, Georgia.  

To trend or not to trend?

 Hello, happy Sunday. 

I seem to have made a habit of starting blog posts with ‘it’s been a while…’ and here we are again. I don’t know about you, but life seems to be going simultaneously fast and slow these days - how we are in July (??!) is something that baffles me on a daily basis. Along with political decision making, rich people going into space and the England boys making it to the final of the Euros (It’s coming home lads!). 

Anyway, my constant confusion aside, I have sought a lot of solace over the past few months experimenting, namely through the medium of clothes. If this blog hasn’t already made it clear to you, clothes have always been something I’ve got a lot of enjoyment from. That might seem bizarre to type out loud, but as someone that loves to flit between aesthetics and has her mood boosted by a quick #ootd change, using clothes to become something totally different has always been a source of joy for me. Also less messy than dyeing my own hair. 

I’ve also been reflecting on my sources of inspiration, and how they’ve changed fashion-wise over the years. Anyone who was on Tumblr in the 2000s - 2010s will recall the onslaught of content we were fed; amidst memes and Lana Del Rey lyrics, ombre galaxy sweatshirts and Jeffrey Campbell litas were the talk of my dashboard. Honorable mention for disco pants. 

As Instagram and more recently, Tik Tok have quickly become the social media platforms of choice for fashion inspiration, it’s been interesting to watch trends emerge and fizzle out, often just as fast. That coveted item that was all over your feed one minute becomes old news the next. So what’s driving this constant clothing conveyor belt? Beyond being deeply flawed in a multitude of ways, fast fashion companies are adding fuel to the fire of over consumption and shortening the life cycles of trends that they create. The ones that show up on your news feed again and again and again and again. Just bought that new graphic mini dress? That’s so five minutes ago. Here’s an ad for this one instead. 

So what’s my point here you ask? Apart from being pissed at fast fashion companies that can’t pay their workers a fair wage, I guess this is just a little nudge to look beyond the trends. OK, believe me as someone who is v. partial to a trend or two, I know how tricky this can be, but once you start finding inspiration from sources other than the explore page, it can become a heck of a lot easier. Depop/Ebay/Vinted are a great place to start. Plus without the pressure of keeping up with the literal Kardashians, you begin to find a freedom in putting what you actually want to wear on your body. And after all, what could be better than that? 

Anyway, talking of putting what you want to wear on your body, I’ve included some of my recent ~summery~ looks below - which is your fave?

Shirt - Depop, originally River Island

Skirt - Depop, originally Motel Rocks

Shoes - Asos

Bag - Ebay

Shirt - Depop, originally Vogue

Bralet - Depop, originally Boohoo

Jeans - Primark

Shoes - Lilley’s 

Bag - Xmas gift

Blazer - Depop

Top - Depop, originally Boohoo

Jeans - Depop, originally Primark

Shoes - Asos

Bag  - Ebay

Top - Depop, originally Zara

Trousers - Depop, originally Topshop

Shoes - Asos

Bag - Ebay

Shirt - Depop, originally Boohoo

Bodysuit - Depop, originally Missguided

Jeans - Primark

Shoes - Lilley’s

Bag - Xmas gift

Shirt - Ebay, originally H&M

Bralet - Depop, originally Boohoo

Trousers - Depop, originally Pretty Little Thing

Shoes - Asos

Bag - Ebay

Blazer - Depop, originally Topshop

Shorts - Depop, originally Asos

Shoes - Asos

Bag - Ebay

Blazer - H&M

Jeans - Depop, originally Primark

Shoes - Asos

Bag - Ebay

Shirt - Depop, originally Boohoo

Jeans - Depop, originally Primark

Shoes - Asos

Bag - Xmas gift