Reaching 10K On Instagram- Party Time Or Anti Climax?

I don't set myself many goals in life (call me unambitious if you like), but the one thing I've had in my head to achieve these last few months is reaching that Magic Number- 10,000 followers on Instagram. Whilst I appreciate I'm not exactly 'bettering' myself (or anyone else) in pursuing such a shallow, futile and pointless aim; every blogger out there will know how important hitting that particular target is. But what if it's not all it's cracked up to be? Time for one of those heated debate thingies.

The Torment Of 9999

So, there I was last Sunday thinking 'Could this be the day?'. My follower count was edging up and when I skimmed through things at 10am I was on 9996. 'Of course I'll do it, no probs', I told myself and went off for Mummy's Day lunch with da fam. The urge to check on my account was great but I resisted until 2pm. I then logged in and saw I had 7 new followers. 'Yasssss, I'm sure I've done it, I must've done it!', I thought, mentally buying some Gucci loafers by way of a celebration. But no, #pitythefule, I was on 9999. Nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety fucking nine. Is there a worse possible number in the whole universe? And so it went on, up and down like a ho's knickers all the rest of the day. To say I wasn't exactly racing to the finish line would be an understatement. 

The Power Of 10

But then it happened. However, because of the precariousness of dipping back down again I didn't dare be pleased. I just couldn't. A sweet boy called Jack congratulated me, and I thanked him, but I knew I was on the edge of a tall building and could fall off at any second. 

Finally It Has Happened To Me

I only ever joined Instagram for one reason- coz my beautiful friend Mrs Mission Style said I should. I remember sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at my iPad over Christmas 2013 telling myself to join. I had a false start that time when I thought I couldn't handle the stress of 'putting myself out there'. And I panicked when I thought I'd published a picture of my knee as my cherry-popper and promptly deleted my account. Four months later though, I bit the bullet. And Holy Social Media it's been difficult. I don't think a week has gone by where I didn't wanna quit. But as I lay in bed that Sunday evening, trying to watch both 'An Officer And A Gentleman' and 'Something's Gotta Give' at the same time- (I means srsly- how can a girl choose between those two?) I let myself finally say it out loud- 'I've got 10k'.

What Now?

So, is it nirvana? Have I reached The Promised Land? Well, yes and no. The buzz of it definitely hasn't worn off. But to say my 'IG life' is easier now would be a lie. I expected a rush of followers, but it hasn't happened. The struggle is still ever-so-real. It seems like followers are even more unlikely to stay following. (I stayed on 10, 015 for two days FYI). In my head I'd wanted to do an innovotive 'thanks for 10k' post (as I've been so inspired by lots I'd seen in the past whizzing through my feed), and these pictures were what I came up with. I think the moment for them has passed on IG so they've landed here. (God those M&Ms smelled so good). I said to myself once I got to 10k I'd chill a bit. Try and sign up to Snapchat, try and sell some stuff on Depop, and maybe just take a day off here and there from IG so I could actually Do.Some.Other.Stuff. Hasn't happened so far....I wonder if it will?

M&Ms- Waitrose (lol)//Severed Hand- The Local Art Shop

My Weird Week On Instagram

Despite having been on Instagram for nearly two years now, I still have no freaking clue how the place actually works. Whilst I've finally figured out to edit my captions (Yay! Fat Fingers Be Gone!), I still don't understand how hashtagless pictures ever get seen. Or why certain Dutch girls think it's okay to follow and unfollow you four times in as many months (babe, I've clocked you, srsly just piss off ). The struggle has been #long and #real to get any kind of momentum going for my lil' old account, but last week, outta nowhere things finally seemed to be starting to happen.

The Power Of The Pink Bag

First up, I posted a pic of my beloved Acne carrier bag. This thing seems to basically act as #gramnip for IGers. I'd like to say I don't know why- but it is an object of desire and it is a thing of beauty- so we don't need to really linger too long as to why peeps go cray for it. But 800 likes cray? It seemed insanely disproportionate to me, but the followers also came along with the likes- so I wasn't gonna argue.

Smug Face

And then the followers- shockingly- kept coming. Ain't gonna lie, on a regular IG day I'll maybe get 10 followers at best, and probably lose 5 along the way. I realise these numbers are embarrassingly impoverished and that even Danielle Bernstein's dog gets more love than that. Way more love. But strange things were afoot. I was getting 40, 50 even- gasp- 60 followers a day. So, although I'm an atheist I kept thanking God periodically just so he knew how grateful I was. This quite amazing deluge happened errryday for four whole days.

The Crash

And then reality bit back. I think it was a pic of some Converse that started my downward spiral- which is weird coz Chucks tend to do okay in my experience. It even got a 'good' amount of likes. But no, the haemorrhage had started and my stress returned to accompany it. Why had I gotten some momentum? And why had it fallen away again? Like I said, IG is utterly unfathomable to me. Even what happened next couldn't stem the flow.

Topshop Girl In A Topshop World

So, on Friday evening I threw on a snap of me sitting on the floor in a Fila sweatshirt and some frayed jeans. (I say threw- my "effortless" photo took two hours of blood sweat and tears). Coz I don't shoot outside anymore and coz my face is a bit like Quasimodo's on a good day this is how picture-taking now rolls for me: I have to spend large amounts of daylight hours sitting on my arse, with my camera balanced on a Nike box, running back into frame (once I've triggered the self-timer and dangled an object in front of the lens for it to focus on), trying desperately to keep my head out of shot whilst attempting to look thin, cool, relaxed and a bit like 'Oh me? Just sitting here casually on the floor again'. I was reticent to put the final 'masterpiece' on IG because, well, I basically feel like that about every pic I take for there. So I crossed myself (the more atheist I feel the more religious I act, go figure) about 18 times and waited for it to bomb. I normally log off once I've shared a piccie as I can't bear to see how unpopular I am, which I duly did. But for some reason I logged on again about 15 minutes later and saw that I had a tag. OMG- could it be ASOS? (About a year ago I got one single solitary like from them and it got me- wait for this- 300 followers). But no, it wasn't them. It was something that I don't think most bloggers ever even dare dream of- it was- drumroll- an RG from Topshop.

The Party Was Short, But Funny

At first I was like, WTF. Then I was like, "LIFE MADE!!!!!". I once read that a regram from ASOS gets you approximately 1000 followers, so I calculated that Topshop having 6 million followers (and ASOS having 3 million) should, in theory, have garnered me more than that. My maths is shit, but the hope was very real. Once again I logged off with a spring in my step and a sunny disposition so rare that my family were suspicious. I knew it though. Only me, with my impeccable Reverse Midas Touch could fuck this up. Who gets a shout-out to 6 million people and "only" gets 250 followers? (For that was my tally). This chica, that's who. I'd like to think that it was the Granny shoes what did it. Most of the girls commenting under my pic seemed to be utterly repulsed by them, and kept calling them 'cabin shoes', and doing Crying-Laughing Emojis. So I can only assume Toppers has a helluva lot of air hostesses following their account. But actually I don't mind a bit that those girls hated them, in fact, I quite enjoyed that aspect of the whole thing. And before you characterise me as some ungrateful ho' who needs to stop number-crunching and chill the fuck out and get things into perspective a bit more (hearin' you btw), I was actually beyond buzzed that someone at Toppers HQ liked what I'm doing. That is deffo more important than putting on shit-loads of followers. To the point that I'd actually like it carved on my gravestone. ("Here Lies Belle, She Was Once Regrammed By Topshop You Know"). But still it niggles. And so does the girl who posts the dullest cycle of "Quote/Food/Converse/Selfie/Quote/Food/Converse/Selfie" on her IG- in some kind of never-ending mouse-wheel nightmare, but has now got 11k. Or that the girl who posts once a week (if that) is the new owner of a Triangl (yes, I'm still going on about that). Or that Auld Muddy Face just breathes in and gets 5k likes per pic. It niggles like hell. And it ain't going away. I'll leave you with Gore Vidal. "Every time one of my friends succeeds, something inside me dies". Amen bro. Amen.

Shoes- Topshop//Jeans- Topshop//Jumper- Zara

Instagram Outtakes 2015

Most of my Instagrams never get shared. I either get cold feet, or I just don't think they're all that. (I know, I know- 'What the fuck is she discarding if her IG is full of the ones she's pleased with?!', you're thinking. To which I can only say- 'hearin' you, feelin' you'). This has been the year where I've had constant storage issues with my phone, so it's really quite 'lucky' that I've even got these few dribs n drabs to show. (I've basically had to hit delete more times a day than The Daily Mail has declared that someone is putting on 'a leggy display'). So let's have a quick chinwag about these ones that never made the grade.

Soho Disco

Looking at this shot now, it's not striking me as particularly rubbish. At the time I maybe thought it was just a touch too minimal (say whattt?!) and a bit like 'here's my bag, innit good?' I dunno, I just thought it needed another element.

Boyfriends Are Overrated

This tee struck a bit of a chord, what with me being the most undateable girl in the history of humankind, so I spent shit loads of time in H&M trying to get a good picture of it. I did actually post a cropped, close-up version in the end, but it tanked. Then it struck me it was probably very arrogant of me to go around declaring such things in a 'plastered-across-my-chest' kinda way and that the top was actually aimed at girls with boyfriends. Maybe. And I looked fat.

Tea And Sympathy

I took this snap with the idea of tagging 'CoffeenClothes' and trying to get a regram. (Yes!! I am that cynical/tactical/dreadful!!). Then I realised tea isn't coffee, nor does it look like coffee. And that boyfriend jeans deffo did not go with those snakey H&M mules, and also that the pic was pretty poor quality. Next.

Ballin'

I fell in love with this baseball dress in And Other Stories. I hadn't seen anything else like it anywhere else, and I also thought that it might, just might, make an IG. But when I went to put it on I couldn't actually do the buttons up (hence why my grey sports bra top is showing). It had one of those placket thingies and it was just super-fiddly. Plus, it was hot and the queue of people waiting to get into the changing room was epic,  and in the end I took this one frame then gave up and went to get a smoothie from The Good Life Eatery.

Mr Blue Sky

Remember that one, random, amazingly hot Saturday in September? It was 30 degrees and I was hanging out with my sis on the balcony of her new flat. We just had the nicest time- chatting and bitching- and just generally doing what sisters do. I reallllly wanted to post this shot but in the end I didn't have the balls. I actually like a priddy sky pic or a lush sunset, but bailing seemed like the best option at the time.

Les Culottes

I loved these Topshop denim culottes which made an appearance in the sale at only fifteen quid. Sold! But coz I don't have a decent mirror at home I hung around for ages trying to get a good snap of them to throw onto IG. Whilst I was there making a tit of myself, Faye Ripley the actress, and her daughter wandered into the next changing room and I was utterly distracted ear-wigging on their whole conversation. This one never made it coz again I thought it was a) a touch boring and b) I looked fat.

Cos You Like It

I found myself in Cos one Saturday for a bit of a try-on, as you do. For the fashion-blogger, an Instagram of you in the Cos changing-room is an absolute rite-of-passage. Again, I spent forever in there, sitting down, standing-up, flinging my hair hither and thither, all to no avail. I literally cannot do good selfies and I should probably give up.

Heart Eyes, As Per

I bought these Adidas Racer Lites primarily because I fancied the bloke who served me. He was mixed-race, covered in tattoos and didn't seem utterly repulsed when he asked me what I was doing that evening and I said I was going to see 1D at the O2. Even if he was pretending, props to him for that. I actually really love these sneaks but they are deffo a 'summer trainer' (being all fabriquey and perforated as they are), and they actually went in the sale on at least half a dozen websites the week after I purchased. Gun Emoji. Anyroad. I took a couple of frames of them for IG, and one flatlay worked quite well so I went with that. (It didn't bomb, just so you have full disclosure). This pic was a close runner-up though. And if anyone has any clue who the hot Brummie bloke is who works at Size on Carnaby Street let me know :)

How Real Is Your Instagram?

Ever since EssenaGate, a veritable deluge of articles analysing the 'faux reality' of Instagram have sprung up- not only in the big ole' blogosphere- but in 'trad' media too. As ever, I'm late to the party. But I wanted to weigh in with a few thoughts, nonetheless. So here goes. 

What You See Isn't What You Get

The pictures you see here are ones I took myself. I haven't posted them on IG yet, but I might do. (I try not to 'double-up' too much on images as it can get a bit Boris Boreoff). You're probably thinking- 'Hang on, has she gone and got an Acne Raya now? Lucky bitch. She probably bought it with that PPI money she doesn't stop banging on about'. But wait. Oh no, she hasn't bought a Raya. She actually just flatlayed her year old H&M cardi and artfully arranged the Acne label off her Skin 5s on top of it. Sound that faux klaxon. Loud. Your brain and the image were telling you one thing, but the 'reality' wasn't real. (Unless you're massively adept at spotting a Raya at fifty paces, in which case, props to you). Is it morally dubious to try and suggest that something from H&M has all the caché and luxeyness of something way more expensive from Acne? Probably. But it sure as hell makes the image more......lookable. And it certainly gives it- shall we say- a lot more Instagram leverage. *NB I did actually post a version of this pic on IG yesterday- and guess what?- it smashed it out the park. Which goes to prove.....summat or other).

I Grammed It My Way

So, how real is my Insta? Well, on the Essena Faux Scale, I'd say it's about a 9. (10 being as faux as you can go). Do I sit around cross-legged all day on a piece of white card wearing trainers? Nope. Do I artfully grab at black coffee placed at the perfect angle on a marble table-top? Nope. Do I stand in the street, pidgeon-toed, staring endlessly at the watch on my overly-tanned wrist? No, I do not. So, why why why am I actually doing this shit? Am I trying to make priddy pictures? I sure am. But to what end? Essena earned hundreds of dollars off each of her grams. Do I earn a single penny? No, sadly I don't. Do I ever even get sent anything to promo? Nope, not that either. Every day I hope beyond hope that a nice brand- you know- the ones that everyone else get sent stuff from- will hit me up. But they never do. I've kind of accepted it now. (She said). Some girls are like the Pied Piperesses of IG. I'm deffo not one of them. Keep working, keep hacking away, and maybe something 'good' will happen, I tell myself. And if this is all getting a bit woe is me- apologies. I can only really admire Essena all the more for walking away from the money-making machine she had going on.

Rinstragram v Finstagram

So, if it sounds like I'm about to 'do' an Essena and flounce off- you're spot on. I cannot tell you how sick I am of the backaches, the fake-tanning, the desperate scrabble to create more storage on my phone, the stress of hitting my target to gram twice a day, every day. The hope as I tag that maybe, just maybe, this time I'll get an RG. The pathetic game I play to try and hit 100 likes in twenty minutes. (Still my aim, still haven't reached it). The bitterness and jealously that eats me up everytime I see another rival peer getting a lovely gift from a lovely brand, or thousands of likes for another tagless pic. I never even used to think I was that ugly until I got on IG- but I now I know my face repulses people- and makes them unfollow- I'm assured of that fact. Quite frankly, I don't like what I've become. I'm not naturally someone who has a chip on their shoulder, or is jell of all and sundry, but I'm fast going down that road. To that end- yes I wanna quit. But I also know that the one day off I've taken in a whole year of gramming (after the Paris attacks, coz to me it didn't feel right to post) made me miss IG terribly. Even.After.One.Fucking.Day. (#theaddictionisreal) Perversely, I also wanna start another account- a 'rinstagram'- to post the reality of my life. The mundanity of it in all its glory. (For me- 'Fakestagram' sums up my current gram, and 'Realstagram' would be my new reality- although I appreciate I may have that arse about face). Not an original idea obvs, but it might be a way to help me reset and stop chasing my tail and hating on everything. We'll see.

How's IG treating you lately? Lemmie know xx PS Soz if this a downer

Cardigan- H&M//Watch- ASOS

Instagram Irritations

As usual, pretty much everything on Instagram is annoying the beeejeeezus out of me, so I thought I'd compile a lovely list of my grievances to really give vent to my fury and hopefully cleanse my rather irritated soul.

Change Is A Good Thing

Er, no it freaking isn't. Who ever said change is good needs a cold shower and a head wobble. I'm referring (of course?) to IG's new and "improved" direct messaging. I used to love DMing. I'd be pinging pictures and pithy asides (ahem) back and forth all day to my main chicas, happily slagging off everyone in the whole wide gramo'sphere. But my preferred method of bitching has been cruelly taken from me. Basically, I have an iPhone 4S and an iPad Mini 2- so far- so first world. Neither allow me now to see my DMs for various techie reasons that I won't bore you with. So, I got in the queue at Apple where a bloke in a beanie told me I needed to back up, sync, load, reboot, go to Rymans, install the Apple app on my phone for an appointment (I made him try to do it- epic fail) and generally become the kind of person who doesn't need to get in the queue at the Apple shop. If I understood the first thing about technology I wouldn't be here, in this bastard queue, when I could be in Zara. Since QueueGate, I now can't use IG at all on my phone any more, it's hit storage and I'm not due an upgrade until next May. Fucking May. Pissed off? Just a teeny weeny bit.

Now You're Just Somebody That I Used To Know

With increasing frequency I'm getting girls who I once counted as 'buddies', not liking my pictures and then unfollowing me. Of course, being Mrs Loyal (first name Naive) it never occurs to me that these things are gonna happen. So I cheerfully carry on liking their pics and throwing out gushing compliments like Muggy McMugsville, when they've discarded my sorry ass some time back. Great.

Happy Fucking Birthday

Get on this: I'd been following and liking the pics of a very cool girl for some time when she finally noticed me. (Who, me? Fucking hell, this whole thing is like sitting on the 'Singles Bench' in Grease waiting for some boy to take pity on you and ask for a dance). Yes! Woo! She liked my pic! Emboldened by the positivity she was showering upon me I decided to wish her happy birthday. I thought nothing more of it until she posted her next picture. For some reason I decided to look back at her birthday snap only to find she'd said thank you to every other freaking arsehole person who sent her birthday wishes....except me. And I mean everyone. 

The Hulk

Some people on IG are just annoying aren't they? You can't put your finger on quite why, but they are. For a while I'd been getting what I consider to be 'passive aggressive' comments off one particular girl. I'd held my keyboard thus far, figuring I didn't really wanna get into a big aul' ding-dong on there unless absolutely necessary. But when she had another dig recently I couldn't let it pass. I thought about what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it (only fools rush in). Anddddd......she apologized and I think felt suitably embarrassed. (I played the illness card. Not proud. But I am ill and I can't fucking see very well, so there you go). I could've torn strips off her, but I've a feeling I might need to save that one for another day. (Dot, dot, dot) *Not in the Mamma Mia sense
Rumi Has It
Do you follow Rumi Neely? You probably do as she has way over half a million "Insta Disciples". Increasingly she seems to enjoy courting controversy, or at very least, sparking debates about her weight. 'Stop thin shaming', 'She may be happy with her figure', 'Please eat something', and so it goes on, endlessly. I know I know, I can unfollow if I don't wanna see it. But actually, I do wanna see her weird, contorted, pseudo-sexual poses, and I do definitely wanna see The Fighting Followers trying to make sense of it all. I guess I'm doing the Instagram version of driving slowly past a car crash. But then again, that is basically what  IG is about, so I'm not losing sleep. 

What's been bugging you recently on IG? Lemmie know xx
PS Wow- look at my camera roll shot- so full of beautiful, fleeting, meaningful moments forever captured. On no, it's just full of self-obsessed shit for Instagram

Sunnies- Céline//Notebook- Bloggers Planner//Cup- Design Letters

6 Things You Shouldn't Do On Instagram

Spamalot

The temptation is real. You've got five realllly great pictures and you wanna post them all at once. The world needs to know this very minute how great your new shoes are/how yummy your avo toast looks/how unfiltered that sunset is. But wait. Hold yer horses. Less is more. Pace yourself. For me, five pictures a day is lot to be posting (even if you space them out)- although some girls post that amount (and more) and seem like very happy bunnies. Quality over quantity applies to lots of things in life, and this is probably one.

Getting Away With It

Speaking of quality posts, it's also a good policy to not post pics that are out of focus/darker than the night/distasteful. I actually have great fun reporting to Instagram all the pictures I think are inappropriate.* If you ever go on the #changingroomselfie tag you'll know what I'm saying. *Yes, I am that bastard. And yes I have no life.

Piggy Backing Ain't Cool

Do you really wanna be one of those girls who writes under an ASOS picture- 'Hi, new fashion blogger here it would mean a lot if you could look at my account!!'. No, thought not.

Playing Those Mind Games

As we all know, there is a lot of shitty low-down behaviour on IG. Not least being the arseholes who follow you, then moments later unfollow you in a petulant Prince George-having-a-tantrum-type-of-way. Actually, Prince G is a bit pure to be dragging into the murky world of Instagram, so let's just say these fuckers are childish. And no-one wants to be a childish fucker, do they? 

Human Behaviour

I'm sure you've seen it- hell- you have may unwittingly done it- I'm talking about 'forgetting' everyone on IG is real. Yes! Real life human-beings with feelings! To that end, don't start having a conversation with your mate (no matter how inocuous) on a "big-timer"'s page, chit-chatting away as if they don't exist. It's their freaking account...they can seeeee you. And especially don't get into it if you're gonna bitch. Once upon a gram, two Danish people (one boy, one girl) decided to have a little chinwag under a picture of mine. Were they saying nice things? They most certainly were not. But after a bit of Google Translating, they were gone.

Repeat After Me

Some girls on IG are comment crazy. They have to say morning to everyone, night to everyone and comment on every last little thing in between. Overkill much? You betcha. Now I don't wanna piss on anyone's chips here- some beautiful lil' friendships form on the Gram, and one of the greatest joys of the place is communication with girls across the globe. (Well, it is for me). It's just that effusive, over-bearing, insincere balls that seems so unnecessary. 'Morning babe, you look stunning today!!' Especially if you said it the night before, and the morning before that. I've even seen people say a Starbucks cup is "stunning". Erm, hello? 

The Conclusion

Etiquette counts, unless of course you don't give a fuck about such things. Just you carry on posting twenty pics a day, saying to your mate 'I can't believe how thin she is!' under a very thin girl's snap and promo-ing yourself on every feed you can. But don't come crying to me when you get 10k!!!!

What behaviour do you think is best to avoid on IG (if any)? Hit me up, luv u, bye. 

Jeans- H&M//Slides- Birkenstock//Print- Sealoe

How To Raise Your Instagram Game

I'm very much on the record when it comes to my issues with Instagram. Posting on IG- for me- is about as pleasant as having a bikini wax. I do, however, enjoy "the creative process" (wank wank) and a few props and tricks have helped me get someway towards filling my feed with the pictures I want. Now, I'm deffo no expert and far from "successful" on there (whatever successful means), but I thought I'd try and share what I've learned thus far.

But First Coffee

Coffee is such a huge thing on IG I can actually smell the caffeine coming off my iPad. Which is all the more tormenting because I can't and don't drink the stuff. But.How.I.Wish.I.Freakin'.Did. So what is a frothy cup of the alluring liquid doing in this flatlay? It's a prop that's what. And one of the cheapest and easiest you'll find. *Of course you're probably normal and go out for coffee and drink it off of lovely marble-top tables but Muggy here doesn't. This cup smelt so so good when I was shooting this, I nearly undid six months of Anti-Inflammatory Diet Strictness in one big gulp. But I stayed strong.

Gaining My Marbles

So, because I don't go out for coffee on the regz (or indeed ever) nor do I have pots of dosh to buy this beaut I decided to fake the aforementioned table top too. And Wilko have come up with the perfect budget-friendly way of doing it. Of course you're supposed to carefully (read: avoiding air bubbles) cover some foamboard with this faux-print sticky back plastic, but I'm lazy and can't be arsed so I just roll that shit out when I need it. The shine sometimes gives the game away, but you can deal with that via some careful post production (hark at Wes Anderson's art director over here). And a marble background is hella handy for lots of different flatlays you may wanna share with the world, not just for cawfee.

Giving You Props

I also find that gathering together an array of accessories can enhance your IG no end. These include:- white card (also for your flatlays), vases, flowers (fake and real), magazines and framed graphic prints. *Obvious Claxon. I also recently bought a plain white sheet as nothing repulses me more than shoes on a bed. And coz it's very definitely a thing- to sit on your bed and take pictures of your feet that is- I needed to jump on that hype too. Plus, you can then move your sheet to the best light source- whereas that can be a teeny bit impractical when it comes to shifting your double divan. Of course, you may want to just use IG as Kevin Systrom and Mike Kreiger intended- for just throwing on your snaps and documenting your life in a fun and carefree kinda way. In which case ignore everything I've just said. Toodles. Catch you soon  x

Rings- Other Stories//Vase- Ikea//Marble Print Paper- Wilko

What Happened When I Saw A Massive Fight On Instagram

So, quick rewind to Monday. It was lunchtime so I thought I'd browse through my feed on IG, whilst stuffing some quinoa and spinach into my voluminous gob. (I say browse, it was more like a feverish attempt at trying to keep up with the bloody thing. Anyone else's IG get completely out of control on 'em? Swear to god, if I don't look at it for a few hours it becomes this monsterous beast of images that I need to get through. And how annoying is it when it times out? Apologies to anyone whose pics I normally like and I may have missed- now you know why). As I was manically scrolling, I stumbled upon some major beef. Huge. Massive. Eyes on stalks. The whole bit. It was a show-down between a fashion blogger (let's call her Miss 7K) and an Inspo'er (let's call her Miss 3k). Here's how it rolled:-

Girl v Girl

Miss 7K accused Miss 3K of 'stealing' her pictures without crediting them. Miss 7K also said (in a seriously angry and very sweary way) that Miss 3K was refusing to delete or do anything about 'owning up' to the fact that a picture on her account was 'stolen'. Miss 3K (whose bio deets clearly stated 'this is an inspo account none of the pictures are my own') carried on taking a lot of flak and defending her actions (rather weakly admittedly, but it appeared that English was not her first language). Miss 7K rallied her troops and before too long a plethora of 'supportive' IGers had reported Miss 3K's account. 

Theft v Inspiration

This whole sorry tale got me to thinking. What is right and what is wrong when it comes to 'using' pictures on-line? If you follow my IG you'll know I post a mix of inspos and my own pics. I love seeking out an image that hasn't been seen 'everywhere' and throwing it into the mix (although it is kinda depressing when that particular shot gets wayyy more likes than anything I've done myself). I always state my source, but more often than not my source is the murky world of Tumblr where images are routinely not credited. To take Miss 7K's theory to its most extreme, the whole of Tumblr should basically be shut down. There are shades of grey in all of this, and I found myself asking 'What would I feel if I were in that situation?' (God only knows it's distinctly unlikely anyone will ever wanna pinch one of my images but for the sake of this post let's make that leap of faith). And I could only conclude I wouldn't actually care much. Of course it's nice to get credited, but I don't think I'd be doing what Miss 7K did (which actually amounted to bullying). Another fashion blogger who waded into the whole thing- Miss 25k- commented 'people don't realise how much work goes into creating pictures'. And I thought (the cogs were really whirring and clicking on Monday), actually, people very well know how much work it takes to create a beautiful image and most of them don't have the time or the skillz to do it themselves so they 'resort' to 'theft'. 

The Conclusion

A bright spark once commented 'there are only five original ideas in the whole of human artistry, everything else is plagiarism'. And I'd go with that. (Soz copyright lawyers and Marvin Gaye's fam). There are many things to get pissed off about when it comes to blogging and gramming, but I try and take the Marcel Duchamp approach where poss. His glass work 'The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors' got smashed during transit going from one museum to another and he was very cool about the whole debaclé and said he didn't mind and that his art (once he'd glued it all back together) maybe even looked better all patched-up and with visible damage. His chilledness is my inspo. (And if inspo is theft then lock me up with Pharrell and Robin T. Actually, on second thoughts, make that just Pharrell).

PS By the way, both of these pics are my own, feel free to 'borrow'/'use'/'steal'/'pin'/'tumble'/'ignore' as you see fit. And hit me up with your thoughts on this whole issue too :) xx

How I Instagram

Instagramming is not- I have to confess- my fave thing to do in the world. In fact, it freaks me out. I struggle to just throw a few snaps on there, not be arsed how they're perceived (Read: How.Many.Sodding.Arsehole.Likes.They.Get) and and then piss off and do something less boring instead. (Hi Why Don't You Fans!). No, instead- I stress and I plan. (Which is very much a lifelong habit in regards to, well, just about everything). As a fashion blogger this stuff is i-m-p-o-r-t-a-n-t (appaz) coz we have to 

p-r-o-m-o-t-e. Endlessly. And I like my IG to look as pretty as poss. So- how do my lil' works of art (lolz) come into being? Here's how it goes:

Step 1- Get A Backache

For these shots (and lots like it) I lie down on very hard oak floor. A while back I bought a few pieces of white card from the art shop near me, and I generally use those now for all my 'laying back and thinking of England' snaps. I have to hope and pray the light is good when I find the time to L.B.A.T.O.E. Then I have to take a lorra lorra frames. Most are so shit it's, like, bare jokes bruv. Then I upload to my laptop and ask myself why I'm not Sincerely Jules.

Step 2- Get Editing

There's usually all sorts of stuff that needs to be done to make a picture grammable. You have to remember that your pic is out there in perpetuity (unless you delete of course) and someone may even- gasp- RG you. (You didn't know the Pope's a Prod did you?). So I use Facetune. I take out any bits of dirt and stray hairs that get on my lovely white cardboard (seriously, there are loads of these).

Step 3- Fine Tune

You're probably thinking this frame (above) looks wayyyy too light compared to first one. And for the purposes of blogging I'd have to agree. But on IG I like to try and have lots of light in my pics. (I actually really admire 'dark' accounts- yes- I realise how First World and ridiculous that sounds- but I'm starting to think I may wanna go over to the dark side). Anyway. For fine tuning I use Photo Toaster. I play with the exposure, the temperature, the contrast and the brightness until my frame is lighter than a feather.

Step 4- Filter Lyfe

Then it's back to Facetune for some filtering. My faves on there are Azure and Zaffire. I also like Afterlight as well and if I'm going black and white my most used option on there is Ash.

Step 5- Releasing Your Baby Into The Wild

As with all sorts of a stuff in life- timing is everything. I find I tend to get a better response towards the end of the working day so I try and aim to gram at about 5.30 or 6pm. I actually hate being tactical and having to try and 'optimize' (cringe) on there but if you wanna get noticed/get likes/get blog clicks/get follows/get popular/become the next Chiara Ferragni/run the world then you have to consider this type of balls.

Lemmie know how you gram, what your fave filters are and what are your fave kinda feeds. 

Catch you soon xx

Pants- Zara//Sneaks- Adidas

InstaYear

Instagram Intagram, how I love thee, let me count the ways. Ditto, how I hate thee. Let me count those too. To be honest, to be brutal, and to be fair, I haven't actually been on IG for a whole year yet, so this is technically an 'InstaEightMonths'. Annnnd, even more technically and brutally, these are actually, *GASP* unpublished IGs. Ones that dint make the cut. Why didn't they? Various reasons really.

Let Me Take A Selfie (Not)

1. Posting selfies freaks me out. And it would probably freak out those who had to look at my face too. And as you can see, I'm not cool. I just look like a fucking geek.

Me & Flatlays We Got Issues

2. Flatlays sometimes don't fit in the freaking IG square do they? Why I don't I get an app thingy that resizes everything so they fit in? Coz...er...I've forgotten my password. I put £20 of credit on my iPad, then went and forgot everything. Gun Emoji. 

Fat Feet

3. Feet can look rubbish can't they? Look at my swollen duck foot there not sliding into an Adilette. Bleugh.

Sock It To Me

4. Socks are great. But somehow every picture I took this year con sock and slide, or con sock and sneak looked toats (this is how my sis spells totes and I'm a convert) dumb. Again, a severe case of me trying to be cool and massively failing. 

Apple Problems

5. iPhones and iPads take rubbish kwality piccies don't they? Like, shit. I mean, I dunno about a 6 or a 6s or whatever they're called, but all I can get on mine is blur. Unless the sunlight is double bright. Which is rare in this here Blightly of ours. So I've got into the very time-consuming habit of taking my IGs with my Nikon. You're right. Life is too short.

Lace

6. Broderie Bombs. I like Broderie Anglais. Scratch that, I freaking love it. But when I posted this pic of me propping up a wall wearing this darling lace top, nobody dug on it. Sadface. So I deleted. Taylor Swiftly.

Boat Race

7. Oh yeah. There's my face again. Let's move on. 

So there we have it, a slightly abbreviated (unseen) InstaYear. How's your year been on IG? 

Tell all :) xx

7 Things Instagram Has Taught Me

I'm still a relative newbie on Instagram. It's been a baptism of fire, fo shizz. I have to confess I find it fascinating and horrifying in equal measure. (My pictures: horrifying, everyone else's: fascinating). Certain things seem to 'work' on there, and certain things don't. Let's have a heated debate about these very tingz. 

Face Versus Feet

My feet are slightly popular- my face- not so much. I've actually discussed this with my blogger buddy Mission Style (her IG is here), and she experiences the same thing. I guess if you're a supermodel the reverse is probably true. But for us mere mortals, the plates of meat seem to win, feet down. Which is, er, handy (or maybe feety) for those of us with a lorra lorra shoes.

Most People Will UnFollow You

Yes, they are all bastards. And why do spammers have endless pictures of realllly disgusting plates of food on their accounts? As with everything in life, competitiveness rules. Hate that.

You Have To Show The World Your Stuff

The hauls, the purchases, the new-ins, the same freaking shoes that everyone's got from Zara. This is the shit you gotta post. And you've gotta post it nicely, in a flatlay, with lots of light. Ain't nobody got time for a dark picture. 

Tagging Things Doesn't Help

Tapping for tags is a complete waste of time because people will still ask you where your stuff is from. Endlessly. Even when somebody has asked you where your skirt is from, and you've told them, someone else will then ask the very same question. Are their eyes sewn on? It's entirely possible.

Shouting Out Is A Thing, A Very Big Thing

Now call me old-fashioned, or just a completely contrary dick, but when someone tells me to do something, I generally do the exact opposite. I don't like being told what to do. Do you? So why the sweet baby Jesus does SFSing work? I have no freaking idea. But on Instagram- which has its very own ecosystem and everything- if someone says 'Follow this person, they're great!' loads of people do just that. Weird innit? And I'm very guilty as charged. The lure is strong. (Not to do the following thing, but to do the shout-out thing).

Nobody But Directioners Like One Direction

I'm a Directioner Til I Die. I ship everyone with everyone. And yep, I do realise the whole of the Tinternetz is full of 1D related shizzle (thankfully), so I'm grudgingly having to accept that fellow fashion bloggers mostly don't wanna see endless pictures of The Boy Styles. Or me in my endless selection of Harry t-shirts. But this is my blog, and I'll cry if I want to, so here he is from a while back. (Can't believe how short his hair is and how few scribbles he's got!)

Skinny And Pretty Wins Every Time

Life is not really that different from IG. If you're cool in real life, you'll be cool on there. If you're thin and pretty, you'll be thin and pretty on there. Sure, there's filters and all that shit, but the real you always shows through. You just leak out, whether you like it or not. I could post a piccie here of me trying to be thin and pretty, or an actual thin and pretty person to illustrate my point. But instead I'm going to show you my new Mansur Gavriel bag which I heart like a MOFO (I actually only managed to get my hands on one of these beauts because of Instagram....there I was idly browsing my feed....only to see the Man-Gav girls announce that their very own website had gone live selling yer actual bags not half an hour since. The rest is history). And just for larks, here's my newish pony slides which I also heart nearly as much as Calum 5SOS. What are your IG experiences thus far? Hit me up :) I'm pretty sure that in a year's time this post will look as quaint as a Motorola Flip Phone. If not sooner.

Blue Slides- Whistles//Grey Shopper- Zara//Striped Vest- Zara

Rings- H&M//Sunnies- Quay

Bucket Bag- Mansur Gavriel//Ponyhair Slides- Topshop