10 Things – Pro Bloggers vs Me
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You know those bloggers you see, the ones with their shit completely together? The photos they take are pristine, their outfits always on point and their eyebrows? Like a tiny makeup artist fairy has flown into their bedroom and spent all night crafting them to precision. I’m not one of those.
For the purpose of this list, bloggers who are the Queens of the bloggersphere do the things in pretty italics and the rest of us (probably just me) in regular old average text.
1. They schedule their posts months in advance. NAH night before, often on the bus (like this one) and normally bashed out before proofreading because who has time for spell check nowadays? My stop is in 2 minutes!
2. Their photos have the right amount of lighting, copper, Jo Malone candles and peonies. NAH dark, barely renovated house, crumpled bedsheets and Primark candles because life is expensive and I’m not buying crap just for photo backdrops.
3. They have lunch together at some Harrods event drinking out of diamond tea cups (I imagine). NAH pyjamas, bed and a Twitter chat where we discuss what ‘on FLEEK’ actually means.
4. They pose with gifted products like it’s David Beckham in FIT TEATOX undies. NAH the only brand who want me are a tyre manufacturer (true) so I’ll pose with the stuff I actually bought in New Look thanks.
5. Their Instagram grid looks like pages 32-33 of British Vogue. NAH pictures of pets, unironed tshirts and our legs on a sunlounger in BEEFA is where it’s at.
6. Their blog looks like pages 32-33 of British Vogue. NAH Blogger template, broken links but a whole load of good content sans 47573 adverts are de rigeur.
7. They have 50k+ followers. NAH less than 1k and most of them are girls I’ve met at events who feel obliged to follow me out of politeness and then have to keep up the awkward pretence that they actually read the garbage I spew.
8. The food in their Instagram pictures is haute cuisine. NAH. If I can’t Instagram my KFC then how are the people going to know Hot Rods are back? They’re not by the way. It makes me sad every day.
9. They go glamping at festivals. NAH it’s not a festival unless you’re lying on hard grass, with your rain cover blown off and wee in your wellies because you held it for so long and then had to go in a Chinese food container that disintegrated.*
10. They have the perfect life – waking up at noon, strolling to Liberty to take pics of the flowers and going to some important meeting with Topshop or Gleam. NAH we work 60 hours a week, take photos when it’s dark outside and can’t go to any events because that would mean sacking off work and we’re responsible professionals.
Who’d be a ‘big’ blogger eh? It sounds pretty exhausting. I’m alright here, in my civil service job and shit eyebrows.
*This maybe happened to me.
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