(Image removed…new one on its way soon!)
My location has never worried me but I have been forced to ask myself over the last few weeks if it disadvantages my blog. I chose to move out of London many years ago, as I didn’t feel it was a lifestyle I could maintain. I was constantly on the go, surrounded by others yet at the same time surprisingly lonely. These people were mainly anonymous, sporting the expressionless “don’t look at me or attempt to engage me in conversation” faces that Underground etiquette can often dictate. During London Fashion Week I asked the other 4 people on my late night train if they minded me changing my boots. They looked a little shocked and a young boy who was about 16 said to me, “That’s the first time that anyone’s ever spoken to me on the train ever.” I asked him if he’d been living in London long, to which he responded, “All my life.”

I digress. Over the last few weeks my inbox has been bombarded with press day invites none of which I have been able to attend. My real job hasn’t allowed me the time nor do I unfortunately have the funds to reach Londinium. So I again ask myself does this put my blog at a disadvantage? I can view all the look-books online, chat to al the necessary contacts via email, Twitter and Facebook and live it vicariously through the posts of my fellow bloggers. The vital part for me is still missing. There is still no substitute for the connection you make when you meet people and no replacement for the instinctive feel you get for a collection on viewing it in person.

So let’s consider the benefit my location allows me. The main luxury is perspective. I am out of the London fashion loop. Where I live people are stylish yet not dictated to by trends, nor are many trendsetters. Clothing is cool but not painfully so. The best way to describe it is, I always feel I am pushing the fashion envelope until I bypass Reading on the train! I then realise my efforts are quite mediocre! I am also able to choose and be selective about the events I attend. Make strange, crazy efforts to reach the capital for a few hours and then work on the train all the way home.

What I’d like to know the most are your thoughts. Are you a London based blogger? Does this offer you an insight into the industry that my distance doesn’t afford me? Do you think location makes no difference now that the Internet has created one global community? Am I paranoid to feel that people treat me differently as a blogger once they know I don’t live in the capital? Personally, I would change not one thing. My little blog began in my lounge and still gets written there most days. I love the fact that I can dip in and out of London life but just wish I had the funds to indulge in journeys more often and see the other bloggers and publicists that I feel have now become friends.

As the years have progressed, my hair has shrunk. It is now officially short. What I have found strange while rocking this shorter look is the reaction of other people. My Mum is verging on disgusted. For her, hair length is synonymous with femininity…mine therefore has gone. My hair has made me into her 14-year-old son (in her mind!) Like Samson, my feminine strength has disappeared with my locks. My father-in-law has had a similar reaction. He sees me on a slippery slope that will see me bald or with a shaved head within the next year! The “young” seem to love it. As they begin to feel comfortable in their looks they seem to exude a certain admiration for those willing to take a risk with their style. As they straighten their hair to within an inch of its life and wear jeggings with pride to fit in with the uniform of the day, anyone prepared to step outside of that box elicits a certain admiration.

Of course I get hair envy. As I brushed my niece’s heavenly locks yesterday and plaited and pruned her hair into many varied styles, I briefly considered a regrowth plan. But then my 10 minutes in the shower and 5 minutes drying time (with no straightening or curling requirement) quickly changed my mind. Who knows, I may look back at this period of my life with disdain. Heaven knows I feel that way about my basin cut of 1982 (I was but 4) and my blonde with black under colour of 2000..but so what! Hair always grows; I have sobbed after certain disaster cuts of old and TRIED to repeat this like a mantra! Trends and styles continue to change and once you release the comfort blanket that is your hair, you sometimes feel set free.

(Photo credits: Jak & Jil Blog, Facehunter and Vogue)