This editorial beautifully captures my present state of mind. And that being how I just don't feel like doing much of anything despite being inundated. I'm lethargic, a little under-inspired and a whole lot of overwhelmed. And maybe this listlessness pertains to my birthday which looms a few days away. Or maybe it's just Mercury in retrograde, causing havoc and doping me with some seriously lousy mojo.
I found these images over on The Poor Homme and fell in love with the photography. Something in them resonated with something deep within myself, something I was unable to describe. But as I began to read I was taken aback with the narration. The way this piece was intricately dissected, putting words down that I was unable to articulate myself.
There’s a wonderful fragility that runs through the work of photographer Lina Scheynius, and her latest shoot “Melancholia” with model Ruby Aldridge publicises both that and the effects of such despondency – The confinement to a room, the absence of natural light, the glazed eyes, the lie ins and most of all, solitude. It’s both intimate, yet slightly uncomfortable to be shown something that people refrain from talking about in reality.
That last line though. How we refrain from speaking of such things. How much rings true of today's society and in particular the online world. We are compelled to camouflage those shadows that uncontrollably linger about. We feel the need to obscure what darkens our days and all because they just doesn't filter well on Instagram. I'm kind of sick of this perpetual and fake perfection we strive to portray. That life comes only in shades of flawless white with no tones of grey or black. It doesn't and we can't photoshop them away in reality so why must we here? And I think this is why I've shied away from social media the last few weeks. I've chosen to focus on what is actually around me; the good and bad as opposed to absorbing myself in this farce. Oh how depressing it can be constantly bombarded with shiny new Gianvito Rossi's and Chanel's that are unrealistically out of ones budget! Am I right? Especially when you reach a point in life where you can no longer throw caution to the wind and choose fashion over practicalness. Life gets in the way, health deteriorates and other nuances take priority, as they always do, so why must we hide the bad in our lives? Why are we so ashamed to admit that things are not always impeccable? That life is not a picture perfect editorial? It's actually during those painful times when we need the most "likes". Not because we've brought that handbag the masses are coveting but when it's darkest before dawn, that is when we need the most support.
I'm on the precipice of getting older. And while I've noted favorite bloggers of mine openly and proudly sharing hitting their thirties while also being so wonderfully cheery and optimistic (I don't know they do it? Pray tell), I can't help but wince at the number twenty nine, feeling like it is the most horrible, ghastly thing ever. And with that number I feel like my time is up, that I am now far too old to pursue my passions. Worst still, if I haven't accomplished what I set out to do then I never will. There's also the extraordinary pressure to "settle down" and go through those mundane motions of getting married and having kids. Hell, I am in no way ready for that for a good decade or so and because of my age I feel like I have to make a choice and make it now. Career or Family? I don't think I've ever really been quite so honest or open to you all. I am generally a private person so wearing my heart on my sleeve like this and being so vulnerable is utterly scary. Especially in a world where we glorify perfection, strive for grandeur and the rainbows unicorns shit out of their asses.
|via the poor homme|