Evening. I’m currently sat on a train that is fast approaching London, following a trip back home to Liverpool for a short period. I’m nearly back in the capital but not quite yet – fields are continuing to occupy my window view at every possible angle, and sheer sunlight is capturing every speck of nature. The most obvious feeling of this train journey is its transition back to my London life, but it’s also a transition into my future, and the near events occurring in it. Most obviously – the final part of my life as a student.
Following on from a lengthy summer (125 days to be exact), the thought of embarking on another year of education triggers two thoughts either side of the scale: delight and dread. Delight for the reason that I have another year of delving into literature for my degree, and still have the ability to grasp onto the perks of youth. But dread for the reason that I’m a student again. Quite officially; in my Uni you have to re-enrol yourself online each September. Summer time is therefore a period during which you can either feel like you’re being thrown back into the past if you travel home, or thrown into the future if you choose to stay in the capital. I chose the latter option. Which, as a result, has lead me onto that second thought of dread upon returning.
It’s an odd feeling knowing that you’re once again starting a system you’ve been out of for four months, and since doing so have experienced an insight into complete independence. Independence does stand whilst you’re at University, but the events consuming my summer made me feel like I’d transitioned into adult life. My recent months involved interning at Dazed & Confused and British Vogue full time, freelance writing, shadowing the work of successful individuals, and at any break in-between, filling in the hours with my job. There was also the addition of spending ten days in Paris, half of which I was alone – an act that baffled most people I told bar one or two. But I couldn’t recommend doing it more. I never thought of it as a lonely thing, for Paris is a city where – if you’re a creative person – you need to spend time alone there to delve into every little aspect of its sublimity and art. That informs your perception on creation, and it did for me. Thinking about and studying things alone is what forms a personal voice on something. The result can be a blessing or a curse, but it’s nonetheless a voice.
And that idea is a basic requirement for anything one does if they’re creative. How you see somewhere, how you see something, how you see someone – you naturally filter these things into what you create – and for me, that’s writing. It’s rather fitting to the event that highlighted my summer: having a piece of mine published by British Vogue. I could write and write about how elated I felt when it happened – I was on cloud nine. But I’ll explain the piece briefly. I chose to write about fashion in ‘Blow-Up’ – a sixties cult classic film and, since the start of the year, a new favourite of mine. The reason it’s such a good film is because it highlights the entire point of being an artist: the search for meaning. The artist in the film is in the form of a photographer, who struggles to find the real meaning of his work, complicated following his apparent witness of a murder. But the film is inconclusive about the main events that go on. It’s stylised and shown through a lens of sophistication, but you never really know what’s real and what’s not. It’s infused with surreal touches that undermine the main crime and the reality surrounding it. And in that way, the film almost doesn’t seem fictional – for it’s the most accurate depiction of how artists perceive people and things in life. That’s why the creative industry appeals to me – there’s no concrete answer or opinion. You’re always trying to solidify your own.
I’ve been a lot more absent on this blog this summer than I intended to be. But I’ve been writing a lot and thinking about how I want to use this platform over the next year. People have certain stereotypes when it comes to fashion blogs, but I don’t feel like I fall into many of them. I don’t do sponsorship, I don’t limit my posts to simply showing my outfit. There’s nothing wrong with either – I just prefer to write about whatever is on my mind. But I suppose that’s the beauty of having a blog – if you’re not guided by what people expect and present things your way, you can create something pretty amazing. So I’m proud of what having this blog has made me accomplish in the past two years. It has transitioned thoughts and creativity from being just in my mind to being out there. I look forward to pulling my future thoughts together over the next year as I have that final transition in Uni and youth. But for now – enjoy the photos below! I just had 6 inches chopped off my hair so I’m now sat in the ‘not short but not long’ hairstyle club. Or, as I like to think: the Anna Karina club. And I do like it. Who knows – I may have even moved into the ‘bob’ club by the time I graduate! Anything can happen in a year.