The Biggest Fashion Blogger Clichés and how to Avoid Them

In the lull between Christmas and New Year, I thought it would be fun to take a light-hearted look at my blogging genre and some of the stereotypes that come with the territory. If you're a blogger then you'll probably recognise a lot of these, either within your own blog or from the ones you've got bookmarked for regular reading. 

 He was so determined to nail the vintage look that he went Elizabethan.

[Image my own, taken  at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival].

Of course, you could be running a perfectly successful site by following this list to the letter, but I'm not saying that these points have to be flaws: they're just trends within the blogosphere that I can't help but notice. 

Those fashion blogger clichés in full...

• You own Jeffrey Campbell Litas and can't stop telling everyone how great they are, in the hope that the PR department will spot you and send you another pair. THEY WILL NOTICE, DAMMIT.
• You have ombre-dyed hair but would never have considered this until it was fashionable.
• You go by a more original-sounding version of your name, such as 'Tigerlily' (you were born Tracey) or 'Nebulissima' (you were born Nicola).
• You regularly mention your boyfriend in your blog posts and occasionally dress him up for outfit posts, which he loathes.
• You regularly mention your dog/cat in your blog posts and occasionally dress him up for outfit posts, which he loathes.
• You practically blackmail people into becoming a follower of your blog/Instagram/Hello Cotton/Lookbook.nu account and you have a recurring dream of reaching 1,000 Twitter followers, which is surely a premonition, right?
• You begin your post with the immortal words: 'Hiya, girlies!'
• You greet commenting blog visitors as 'babe' or 'hun'.
• Your really imaginative fashion icon is Kate Moss or Alexa Chung.
• When you put up an outfit post it will consist of approximately 20 photos taken from slightly different angles, including classic poses such as Mildly Aghast, I Have No Idea There's A Camera Present and the Too Close For Comfort. (We all do it, so don't pretend you haven't too).
• You take grainy pouting photos of yourself in changing rooms, holding up your iPhone 5 so that we can all be clear about the make and model.
• When you take close-up photos for your blog, you have no idea how to use the Macro function. Wait, there's a Macro function?
• Your regular posts include Wednesday Wishlists and Instagram grids documenting the minutiae of your day.
• You leave insightful comments on other blogs such as 'FOLLOW ME! I'LL FOLLOW BACK! ENTER MY GIVEAWAY TO WIN A TAMPON! GREAT POST, HUN!'. If you call me 'hun' again then I will go all Attila on your ass.
• You never credit image sources and will sometimes post whole series of photos (such as those from major fashion events or product launches) with little or no commentary.
• You have a whole section of the blog dedicated to attracting PR attention, but the email address you use is something akin to ilovecutefluffykittiesxxx@hotmail.com.
• When dealing with companies or press, you add three kisses at the end of all correspondence.
• You nominate 10 fellow bloggers for an award that you've never heard of, with a daft name such as the Sweet Sugar Bubblegum Blogging Gals Lovefest, which must be passed along in a chain letter style, with the person who ends the chain burning in hell (or Primark).
• You dream of being invited to super cool all night raves in East London warehouses with posh people who call themselves DJs and smoke roll-ups.
• The main reason you began blogging was to try and get free clothes.

 You are so edgy that your hair is actually made of diamantes. 

This bloke is apparently an art installation... 

[Image my own, taken at London Fashion Week S/S13].

How to avoid the pitfalls and stereotypes

• If you don't want to compose a Wednesday Wishlist then don't bother. The world will not end, honest. Your followers can, and will, shop without you.
• Find out what your personal style is about. Step away from the role models and the routine of stalking your favourite high-profile bloggers and actually discover what you want to wear.
• A picture tells a thousand words, or so they say, but repetitive photos are really not the answer. It's quality, not quantity, and we don't need to see the same pose in the same outfit but with a 360 degree view. You have a mirror for that.
• Don't post for the sake of posting - if you don't have anything original to say then don't panic. It can wait.
• When you do post, say something different, and always credit your image sources. If someone nicked your content and passed it off as their own then you'd want to know about it, so treat others with the same courtesy.
• If you're marketing yourself as a blogger then remember to be professional, not casual. Get yourself a non-cheesy email address and use it; respond to outreach from businesses in the same way that you'd respond to a job vacancy, i.e. no kisses, full sentences and proving your worth. Oh, and ditch any embarrassing fashion aliases (you heard me, Tigerlily). 

Happy blogging and may your posts be non-duplicate in 2013!

If you have a favourite blogger who avoids the pitfalls then feel free to share their URL below.

Crisis Clothing

I'm experiencing a problem which hasn't significantly reared its ugly head in nearly ten years; one of my peers is stealing my style. The last time this happened was in school, and my eclectic multi-layered t-shirts and baggy brightly coloured cords became the ultimate items for one of my closest friends. It was supposed to feel flattering but it just felt disappointing, and that's still my reaction now. The difference is, we're not at school any more; this decade's look-thief is someone who is normally quite content to do her own thing, yet recently she's been absorbing my hair colour, hair style, clothing ensembles and other such small and seemingly insignificant details. It's frustrating when I spend ages trying to express myself through what I wear or how I present myself, and then suddenly there she is, expressing me through her own body (if that makes any sense). It's truly maddening. I don't feel I can say anything because we haven't spoken properly in a while - that's right, this modern version of imitation is conducted by her checking on my Facebook photos and 'liking' them. It's a sad day when the technology that unites you with your friends also makes you want to slap them.

We are not all one size. We do not come from moulds.

After lusting over leather dresses for weeks on end, I finally took the plunge and headed to the changing rooms of Bershka to try one for size. Many people have been sceptical about leather dresses, seeing them as a step too far in the leather trend and verging on overkill. I was determined to prove them wrong and team mine with minimalist pieces and make that dress the ultimate statement. However, I fell at the first hurdle when I put this one on: it was clingy in all the wrong places and strangely baggy at the neckline and back. Being synthetic, it was also boiling hot within 2 minutes of being zipped up, and I could feel myself panicking about leaving the dress dripping with sweat and running make-up in an effort to extract myself from it (luckily it was quite easy to remove). The dress I tried on was a size Large, although I can honestly say that it wasn't made for a woman with hips or a chest and it tried desperately to skim over both these features with little success. I do expect to be a bigger size in a Spanish retail chain, because traditionally they seem to cater for smaller, more birdlike women - it's just one of those things. But I don't expect to find the 'L' labelled dress like a sausage skin, whether it's in faux leather or cotton. I should be able to move my legs and not feel my circulation being cut off.
Undeterred, I found a simple but edgy jumper on my second look in the store - it was khaki with elbow patches and I knew it was going to end up in my wardrobe. But, after browsing through a pile of at least ten jumpers, I was dismayed to find that every single one was a size 'Small'. I returned a week later with fresh optimism, only to find the same problem. I won't lie; I already felt a little insecure about expecting to buy a Large, or indeed Extra Large, but seeing row upon row of garments in 'Small' around the store, I didn't find myself excited about the jumper any more. I'd expect to see a full size range catered for in the high street, especially when the size 'Small' equates to a 6-8, because it's hardly appealing to a diverse range of customers. I love the fresh and interesting designs available in Bershka, but this has left me reluctant to visit regularly if they are quite happy to place a size 12 customer in a 'Large' category and consistently not stock anything beyond 'Small'. I will never have a size 6-8 figure, even with a severe breast reduction, and I don't want to feel as though it's wrong to be a size 12. The leather dress was just the catalyst for me in realising that some retailers in Britain target a scarily exclusive size market.