Adventures As A Fashion Blogger.

I tried being a fashion blogger once.

I know, right? I met up with my friend Sam who is a photographer after white girling and being all, “hi can you shoot me I have some amazing collabs but I hate having my photo taken and I don’t know what I’m doing but won’t be offended if you just tell me what to do and just take these pictures because the idea of having to do this also makes me want to curl up and die in a corner?” or something equally as dramatic.

I felt like Dorothy and desperately wished for a Toto as I realized (tapping my leopard flats to no avail) that I was not in Kansas anymore. Being the psycho I am, I really enjoy being behind the lens because it gives me control… which I much prefer over attention. But I needed to figure out how to break my bitch face (in the good way) before some actual fashion collabs so I thought to myself… Betch, it’s time to put your big girl shoes on and get shit done.

We picked Pioneer Square because it has vibes and I’m about those. Also, there are cobblestone streets which I didn’t factor into my styling, being the expert model I was and all. I had no idea how much work it takes to look like you’re standing effortlessly in a photo, but here I am! I’d be staring through your soul if not for my sunnies. I’m smirking in fear and cautiously perched, probably about to complain about how impossible it is to balance in these shoes. Fuck this shit, fuck that look, fuck it all, let’s just go shopping.

Vintage is a good look for me. I think I feel sublime happiness… I hope it’s not sporadic.

This seat is for fashion bloggers only. You can’t sit with me.

What, like being a photographer is hard?

Let’s pretend to look at clothes in the way I think will make the clothes I’m already wearing look the best. K. This is exhausting. Let’s go to Starsucks.