It’s no secret that I am a bit of a workaholic. My intention is to keep writing posts five days a week for as long as I can, but in truth I’m really not much of a talker so we’re just going to have to see what I pull out when I run out of recent events to write about. It will probably be film reviews, hope we’re all cool with that.
In real life I find talking too much really exhausting. After a long conversation I just have to breathe out and rest for a little while. Today I was watching RuPaul’s Drag Race in bed the contestants were asked what they would say to their childhood selves. This was a trend on YouTube for a while and honestly whenever this subject comes up I just cry immediately. I won’t go into a lot of detail about my life so far, but I always think that if I could say something to my younger self it would be “You’re weird girl. Run with it.”
I will always remember this fluffy blue feather jacket that my parents bought for me when I was really young, I think maybe 14. I remember vividly being in Zara and my parents saying to me “are you sure about this? You wont wear it.” It was over the top and reminded a little bit of the cookie monster and Cher from Clueless. I had every plan to wear it with a beaded choker, crop top and platform sandals. I wanted to go full Beverly Hills beauty. I bought it and wore it twice, to family parties only. I wish I’d worn it. I wish I’d worn it all the time. I wish I’d had the courage to be as weird as I wanted to. I wish I hadn’t given a shit like I don’t give one now.
If I’d just let myself be, I think I’d be a living artwork by now. Like Marina Abramovic. Or Minori. Instead I retreated into boring t-shirts and jeans and converse, a veritable dark ages. I absorbed myself in drawing the fantastical characters that came out of my imagination. I wrote intricate and detailed stories. I channelled all my creativity somehow, but I wish I’d just let it all run free.
I am constantly in two minds about fashion as a hobby. Being an immigrant to this country as a young child means that my family has worked for everything we have. No hand outs, no savings, all graft. Sometimes, to take all of that effort and put it into something that can often seem trivial like fashion makes me feel immensely guilty. I worry that I should be saving lives or working for charity. I don’t think I’ll ever shake that guilt, but hopefully I can help someone who needs it with my words, and so I keep on writing and this vicious dichotomy does too.
Last year my parents and I packed up three huge boxes of supplies for flood relief in Bosnia. I spent the whole evening writing on every item in Sharpie so that it could be identified as a relief item and hopefully not sold off by thieves. We bought cleaning supplies, towels, blankets, children’s toys, tinned food and toiletries. I was wrought with guilt. My face crumbled, all the features falling off like Picasso’s famous weeping woman. The next day my mother found me looking at one of my lolita dresses in tears.
“Why are you crying?” She said.
“I feel guilty.” I replied. “I feel guilty that this is how I live my life when there are people starving. I don’t know if I make the world a better place.”
My mother’s English isn’t perfect, and if anyone but me ever makes fun of that I will personally burn their house down, but she always knows exactly what to say. Paraphrasing, but she said, this is your life. You work hard for the things you own and you deserve them. When you’re done with this just sell it all and go wherever you need to go next. You have your youth, so enjoy it because some people don’t get that chance. I am absolved, sort of.
If creativity is how I’ve chosen to live my life then I just have to keep working at it harder than ever and hope it resonates with someone. I hope I can bring someone some joy with my awful, dry sense of humour, or some comfort by opening up about my dilemmas. Right now I am writing scripts so hard and fast that my fingers are on fire. I’m planning short films and YouTube videos. The craziest thing is that next month I’ll be part of a panel on Lolita fashion in Chester at Moe Moe Convention! Jayde messaged me recently just saying “by the way I’ve signed us up to run the Lolita 101 panel at a local con.” Rabbit in the headlights right here! We’re just writing the presentation and trying to do the best that we can. I’m used to giving presentations, that doesn’t scare me, I just never feel like I have the right to speak about any topic with any kind of authority.
I had never intended this entry to be so cutting and personal, to be honest. I wanted to tell you about how much hope I have for the coming months and how hard I plan to work and here I am in tears, all emotional about clothes. Typical me.