“The rules of capitalization are so unfair to words in the middle of a sentence.”
Margot Roth Spiegelman, Paper Towns
Last year, in my grandparent’s house in Galway, I finished my book. It is not unusual for me to finish books. It is not unusual for anyone to finish a book. What was unusual for me, however, was that I forgot to bring a second book. This meant I had nothing else to read but a myriad of my grandad’s crime novels (“too violent”), the books my sister had brought (“Give it back Ciara I was reading that!”), and any of the Sunday Times magazines lying around.
After reading a two-week-old Culture, I looked around and picked up a dated-by-a-month-and-a-half copy of Style. I bluffed my way through the makeup (“What’s that even meant to do..?”) and body image (“Oh okay my body’s a piece of fruit?”) before alighting on one particular section on Teen Fashion Bloggers. Mentioned were Dianna Agron, among others, and, vair vair importantly, Tavi Gevinson.
Now if you haven’t heard of Tavi before, I feel obliged to send you on to The Style Rookie, her early fashion blog, and her wonderful brainchild Rookie Mag. I’m not going to go into detail here, because this post is not about her, but what I will say is that she’s a wonderful and talented role model who inspires me all the time with her utter fabulosity, and I am basically a feminist because of her.
Another thing I have gained because of her is a sense of potential. There are lots of fun, interesting, creative things I can make, or write, or do with myself that I haven’t yet, and that I can do despite my age. I know that in the grand scheme of things, I am not old, even remotely, but it still chafes a bit to be treated like a child when I feel so much more than that. Maybe I’m not more than that; maybe I’m still just a child that got bigger, but I feel like I deserve a bit more respect than I get.
My recent dream of being a fashion blogger is not going to get people to take me more seriously. If anything, less so. Oh look another teenage girl trying to be an individual isn’t that unusual. (Note: I have no issues with teenage girls. I love teenage girls! They’re the best! And if a teenage girl wants to assert her individuality, good for her! I want to be her friend! We can watch Heathers and Clueless and Ghost World and do photo shoots and try on hats in charity shops together!) I want to wear weird clothes and enjoy myself and be taken at least a little seriously.
Is that so much to ask?