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

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

Self isolating without feeling isolated

Well. This is, weird?

 I currently feel like I'm living in a parallel universe, a video game, or an episode of Black Mirror - one which I haven't watched until the end just yet.  It's a stranger than strange time which few of us have experienced anything remotely similar to before, and that makes it that so much more confusing to deal with.

I have to admit that self-isolation isn't something that's totally out of comfort zone. From the outside looking in, I would say I'm a fairly introverted person who is more than happy to binge Netflix and a bottle of wine. When plans are cancelled, I silently rejoice.  However, what I had never really realised before - until about a week ago - is just how much I rely on those small moments of human interaction to get me through the day.

A little bit of back story. So for the last year or so, I have been working in London whilst living solo. In a nutshell, it's been great - I get to enjoy the buzz of working centrally in a big city whilst having the luxury of peace and quiet at the end of each day. I can't put into words how grateful I am to be able to live by myself - as you're probably aware, real estate is somewhat at a premium in the capital. Or anywhere for that matter. Anyway, given the current circumstances, three weeks ago our office was instructed to work from home. Which, at first, I thought 'OK cool'. I can avoid a crowded commute, I don't have to pay over £5 for a mediocre sandwich, I can have an extra hour asleep.

One week goes by and suddenly, I realise, all may not be as rosy as I first thought.  My daily routine was slipping. The peace and quiet had become overwhelming. I felt my work self and actual self had begun to merge (I was dreaming about emails.) I tried to push on but every day looking in the mirror was like staring at a slightly more unravelled version of myself. One that the morning trips to Sainsbury's (god bless those veteran sales assistants), could not seek to cure. Rumours of a London lockdown prompted my colleagues - who are all living with flatmates or family - to encourage me to head back up North. 

So after a bit of deliberation and a bout of confused packing, I made my way to an eerily quiet Euston station and hopped on the 11.07 train back up north. And all in all, so far so good.  Whilst my family maybe wouldn't be my first choice of flatmates, they're still pretty high up on the list. Plus, the dogs. I mean need I say more?

For me, the most difficult thing with this situation is the 'not knowing.' The uncertainty and the unpredictability. The need to know everything and the desperation to know nothing. Feeling a total lack of control over the structure of my day-to-day life, and having a lot of time to be inside my own head without distraction - two things I have actually really struggled with. Of course, I recognise I am in a HUGE position of privilege - being able to work from home without the threat of my job being lost. Having a roof over my head and a landlord who wouldn't threaten to evict me if I needed to defer paying rent. But that loss of control is something that so many of us seem to be experiencing, and if nothing else, is the root of that washing machine type feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

So what can we do to overcome it? Whilst there is of course no 'one quick fix' to coping with something like this, there are steps we can take to adapt to this temporary way of life. The first being exactly that; remembering that this is temporary. We will come out the other side and it will be great.

Take time to take care of yourself, and see it as an opportunity to focus on you, without feeling that creeping guilt of not being productive. It's completely fine to just read a book you want to read, bake a cake for one, or just sit and do absolutely nothing.  So many of us are in the same boat.

Finally, I would say that if you can, keep in contact with those around you, and not just via text. It's crazy how much of a difference hearing someone's voice can actually make, and whilst I would usually 100% be a text > call girl any day of the week, now is the time to mix things up. 

Talking about mixing things up, it looks like I've gone a bit wild and written a fairly lengthy blog post. Are people still reading blogs? Anyway, if not, I've certainly found it therapeutic.

Given that I do have slightly more time on my hands than usual, I was thinking about going back to my roots and sharing my outfit posts on here. If you are interested, my latest looks are over on my Lookbook page.  I guess it's the perfect time to experiment with my wardrobe and dig out some long forgotten bits -  it's weird how much you miss dressing up and getting ready to go out when you no longer have the option to do so.

However, as you will have heard a million times already, staying home is the best thing to do for now, just as much as not hoarding all of the cereal/soup/toilet paper. Wash your hands, look after each other and stay safe.

You can find the latest guidance about protecting yourself by visiting the World Health Organisation website.

You can read an informative and interactive article about the importance of self-isolation on the Washington Post. 

Photos are by the fab @kymagination_

x

Remembering to look after yourself

 OK, so it really shouldn't take #WorldMentalHealthDay to prompt me to write a post about mental health but here we are.

This is something which is particularly difficult to write about, for most people I imagine, as it's something that so many of us keep close to our chest. Whilst now, *thankfully*, it is gradually being spoken about more on a general level, it's still rare to hear about the individual experiences of people who have struggled, or who are still struggling. And that is the key; being aware that those struggles are not black and white. There is no set start and end time. Even where there are periods of miraculously impossible happiness, that darkness has a tendency to wait in the wings, ready to eclipse the light. 

Darkness is how I describe these periods, predominantly because it's an easy way of encompassing an impossibly complex feeling, which I would never, ever be able to describe. Like wading through treacle and being stuck in a long forgotten memory, like being underwater and forgetting how to swim, like remembering part of a dream and for some reason, you can't quite open your eyes.  Maybe it's  even more of a shadow, drifting in and out of focus, completely dependent on the time of day, the year and the weather. In short, impossible to predict. 

I don't think sharing all of my own struggles is something that I'm quite ready to do just yet. This is  mainly because I haven't quite faced up to them myself, which is, in of itself, part of the problem. With every passing storm comes an overwhelming sense of guilt. What have I got to feel sad about?

This is why we need to talk about it. Mental health is something that applies to everyone. It's like muscle health or bone health or fingernail health; just because it's not visible, doesn't mean it should take a back seat. If it's not something that's taken care of, the effects can be incredibly damaging, harmful, and very, very visible. 

Whilst I'm prone to self-deprecation and use humour as a handy defence mechanism, it's important to acknowledge the times when you're less than okay. It's easy to worry about those around you, but remember to look after yourself too.

Photos by the wonderful ed2too