HASHTAG NO CATEGORY
A rainy February half term has come and gone - is there any other kind? Whilst having a virtual coffee with a friend during the week, we reminded each other of what now feels like a fictitious account of where we were that same week last year - enjoying a long-anticipated treat of a spa day in a New Forest hotel. What a strange concept such things now seem. There we were beside an indoor pool on a cold February day, aware of what was going on and of the slow creep toward the rest of the world, yet clueless of the magnitude of what was to follow. A shining example of how, in certain circumstances, ignorance is truly bliss.
I floundered with little purpose this school holiday - I already felt disconnected before the holiday came around and so was under no illusion about how half term might pan out. My creative mind is all over the place - barely present and unable to settle into any one thing - so I was glad of a reason for taking time out. The break seemed to be the green light my brain had been waiting for to go off on some decidedly frivolous tangents given the times in which we find ourselves. But I went with it – especially as there hasn’t been much room for frivolity of late.
Almost a year into this pandemic shit show and my permanently agitated state of mind still unsettles me - although I’m doing better at realising this is perfectly understandable given the circumstances. Thoughts and creative ideas run amok in my head but the impetus to do anything with them is somewhat lacking. Perhaps, as my mum used to say, it’ll all come out in the wash - perhaps I’ll just wait for spring and see what transpires.
The rampaging thoughts have included an overwhelming urge to write about style again - going so far as to entertain the idea of setting up a new style section on the blog. This led to hours of arsing about with camera and tripod in an attempt to shoot in good light in front of a plain-ish backdrop. I put the sudden reignited interest down to being sick to the back teeth of the nowhere-to-go yoga pants/jeans rotation. And that was as far as it got. Then there was the deep hashtag dive into the Scandi rustic, soft minimal homes of Instagram and Pinterest. After days spent scrolling and pinning - amid which I began to gather ideas for the now two-year overdue bedroom overhaul that might take place later this year - my thoughts went off on a whole other tangent.
I do like how Instagram allows us to explore a myriad of lifestyle preferences, niched content and specific communities, all prefixed with a #. Despite my ongoing niggles and deliberate amounts of time spent away from the App, I still recognise the phenomenal amount of inspiration, connection and pleasant distraction it’s capable of providing. I also recognise my ever-present need to express a midlife identity and to honour the ingrained habit of applying a label to myself. Perhaps this is because my content no longer fits neatly into a box as it once did – I got so used to being called a style blogger that it sometimes feels odd to no longer be associated with the term. Now I flit from hashtag to hashtag at will, enjoying all the curated cliches in abundance.
Let’s start with the simple living ideology – the wholesome, slow life has become an understandably easy concept to get on board with in this maddest of worlds. I relate heavily to it having spent much more time out in nature since the onset of March 2020 - last summer’s barefoot on the beach existence had me feeling freer and lighter than I’ve felt in years. Give me hashtags that proffer whitewashed stone cottages, peaceful landscapes, meditative coffee breaks and artfully angled baked goods on a rustic kitchen worktop and I’m there. So much so that after scrolling past numerous floured hands and artisan coffee shop aprons during this year of enforced slowdown, I had the misplaced thought that I too might channel my inner domestic goddess and bake a batch of ultimate slow living symbolism… cinnamon rolls. Then I read a recipe… and decided I’ll wait until I can take myself off to a coffee shop again and just buy one.
Juxtaposed with Dreamy Woman In Floaty Dress World is an insane yearning to get dressed up and go out for dinner. Remember that? I find myself wanting to don a pair of fugly, chunky as hell boots, a radically shaped dress a la Diane Keaton and stomp purposefully off to a restaurant. Meaning that I inadvertently end up on the hashtag doorstep of the city dwelling, style mavens who, despite the fact we’ve been locked away for most of the year, are still pulling off the coolest of effortless stances in the coolest of effortless outfits. Both of which probably take considerable effort.
From time to time, I find myself mildly obsessed with these formulaic sartorial gurus and wonder what life is like, BTS for them – are they as cool as they look or is it all wildly contrived? You might be familiar with the formula I’m referring to. It mainly consists of wearing oversized, relaxed tailored suits, adopting editorial poses, possibly in an underground carpark or against the backdrop of an industrial looking wall. I’m guessing all this is taking place whilst en route to do the weekly supermarket shop because, right now, where else would they be going? Scandinavian brands generally make up the majority of their wardrobes (with good reason), and there’s usually a marginally disinterested, slightly off-camera gaze
When sharing my own outfits on Instagram, I too have tried painfully hard to pull off this vibe but feel my end results are generally more floopy than on fleek. Also, if I pull any other expression than a smile, I just end up with a bad case of Resting Bitch face. Maybe it’s what Maybelline used to say - you do actually have to be born with it. I fully admit to having a somewhat odd relationship with this level of cool vibe. I love the style and much of the clothing I wear myself but find the overall mood somewhat intimidating – why I wonder, is that? Is my perception skewed towards thinking if you don’t smile for the camera, you won’t be approachable in real life? Do I feel that you’re part of a cool gang but I’m not cool enough to be in it? Gosh… all that from an outfit post.
Of course, all of this is really just a lot of navel gazing nonsense, which I think we can blame on the monotonous slog of this third lockdown. The hashtags I look forward to the most are the post-Covid hashtags - the ones that will depict us all going about daily life again with not a virus-related care in the world. The uber cool attired, floaty dress wearing, sourdough baking, Scandi interior loving alike will no doubt be hash tagging the crap out of that one. And so will I.
