A few weeks ago (yes, this post is very late) I attended the very delightful 23 Paul Street for yet another evening of Scarlet magic. After being so kindly invited to their Blogger Social back in October, I immediately knew which official Scarlet Ladies event I wanted to drop in on first.
I remember the first time I walked up Paul Street in London, thinking ‘is everyone going to know that I’m about to walk into a gentlemen’s club?’ This time was no different. As rad as a place 23 is, it still felt incredibly risqué to be approaching the infamous house of tease, even if my intentions were innocent. Still, I was very excited to be swallowed up by the gorgeous interiors, and hearing some equally gorgeous women speak about very important matters.
In a sea of brilliant, talented, witty, funny women, I was drowning.
In my eyes, everyone had something that made them unique, and I had nothing.
I tried to emulate the styles of my social media crushes, to no avail. That style was reserved, already being done, hence why mine felt like a watered down version. Better to be a first-rate version on yourself than a second-rate version of someone else, and all that.
I have been so fixated on others and their uniqueness, that mine wasn’t shining through. Or it was, but I didn’t deem it good enough.
My gorgeous friend Liv wrote a very thought-provoking piece the other day (which you can read here, and give her a follow while you’re at it). She discussed a topic that I’ve seen floating around more and more often lately, in regards to the ‘blogging community’ and whether such a thing exists.