Being a student with an addiction to spending is like being a
vegetarian with a craving for meat. Both equally incoherent and very
inconvenient.I write this from my Antarctic front
room, cold and hungry with 20p ASDA noodles (which I’m horrified to say were
11p last month) planned as my breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next few
weeks. How did you get in this situation you may ask? Addiction. Reckless,
unruly addiction. The answer of many a homeless person (which I basically am/on
my way to) and the cause of all evil. Kind of. Drink? Drugs? No. This is far
worse. I’m talking money. Cold, hard dosh and I can’t get enough of it.
Have you ever seen one of those American movies where they run down one of
those wooden things and jump in the lake? Well that's always been something
that I really want to do. Some dream of travelling the world or marrying Harry
Styles. My goal in life is to jump off a plank of wood into some cold, dirty
water. Ain't you proud Mumma?
The dream
The
belief that we take too many pictures may be an odd one to be held by a blogger
– particularly one whose posts have a picture to text ratio of about 9:1. But
then again, I also believe it unacceptable to eat beef (due to my love of cows)
despite eating all of its farmyard friends, so let’s presume from now on that
my thoughts are a mixture of oddness/hypocrisy.
My
trail of thought began on an innocent summers evening, where I had just
purchased my new ‘Cooler’ magazine. As I turned to the Editors letter, I was
hit with an array of questions. “How many selfies do you have on your phone? Or
Instagram? Are they really only there because you were desperate to take a
picture when there was nobody else around? Was it not just vanity?” Before I
knew it I was seeing words such as ‘narcissism’ and phrases such as ‘drowning
in a pool of self-love’ and our personalities disappearing ‘in a quest for
Instagram likes, Facebook comments and tumblr followers.’
What
was happening?! I don’t even take selfies!! But why did I feel like I was being
accused? Was I any less guilty because I used photos other people had taken of
me? Has my excuse of ‘it’s for my blog’ finally been revealed?
As I sat in a state of bewilderment, I began thinking about the reasons why we post ‘selfies’. Because really there’s only one. No-one posts a picture of themselves and hopes for it not to be liked: a close-up mugshot is just asking for attention. And it is, at the end of the day, vain – nobody gets a perfect shot first time. That’s gotta be a whole lot of self-lovin to sit and take a load of pictures of your face. And then just a bit more to think that all of your friends/followers want to see these photos too.
As I sat in a state of bewilderment, I began thinking about the reasons why we post ‘selfies’. Because really there’s only one. No-one posts a picture of themselves and hopes for it not to be liked: a close-up mugshot is just asking for attention. And it is, at the end of the day, vain – nobody gets a perfect shot first time. That’s gotta be a whole lot of self-lovin to sit and take a load of pictures of your face. And then just a bit more to think that all of your friends/followers want to see these photos too.
Suddenly I had an epiphany. I felt wiser, as though my 2 years of studying Philosophy had really paid off. Wasn’t it ironic, that by posing for pictures to show to everyone that we’re enjoying the moment, we’re actually missing out that moment? Last year at Wireless festival I spent so much time trying to get pictures of Rihanna that I may as well just have sat home on Google all night. And who really cares? Did I need 100 photos of Rihanna? No. And do I really want to see yet another picture of your face on my timeline? No probably not. And when I questioned my other friends they all generally agreed – selfies are sad, bad and attention seeking.
Alexa Chung once said East London was the most fashionable place for style-spotting, yet I always seem to stick with North London or rather Camden in particular. With the high street being disappointing for the last year (in my opinion), my friend and I decided to go off to Shoreditch in search of some vintage shops and one-off pieces in Brick Lane and Spitalfields Market.
Despite getting off to a slow start - where we searched for the market for over an hour before realising not only was it right next to the train station, but I actually pointed it out and said "that sign says Spitalfields Market" before going off in the other direction - we had a good day out and a surprisingly cheap day out as all I bought was a ring from the market for £2 (!) and of course, food.
