In those years, I would have done anything to become the goddess of “Tumblr Fashion.” For which I would spend the next decade taking the piss alone.
It was the era of the selfie with the Reflex, taken in my bedroom during the years of high school; the era of the feather tattoo by American Apparel; the era of hashtags.
It was 2010, I was wearing full skirts, polka dot tights, and faded crop tops.
I had managed to find a pair of Jeffrey Campbell Lita signed wedges, then sold out everywhere, and I always wore them even though they had sprained my ankle.
For $ 12, I bought a short pair of studded jeans online, while the local mall sold only hideous low-rise shorts.
In those years, I would have done anything to become the goddess of “Tumblr Fashion.”
Back of Tumblr aesthetic-
I desperately wanted to be consistent with that precise Tumblr aesthetic that I saw on the platform [born in 2007, ed.], For which I would spend the next decade taking the piss alone.
But now that this trend is back, thanks to Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly, Kravis, and the grungecore-mixed-Jess-of-New Girl vibes, I realized one thing: I may have been cringing, but at least I felt free.
In my small town in Tennessee, where even the opening of a new Cheesecake Factory was an event, I saw Tumblr as a glimpse into the world, away from suburban life.
I was staring at gifs of British series, reading One Direction fan fiction, and keeping up to date with the trends I saw on the Internet but were yet to arrive on my part.
My classmates admired my look, and I accepted the compliment, even knowing that I was rather behind in terms of style compared to the real and famous bloggers.
And it was they who actually inspired me in what would have been my most creative phase, in which I expressed myself most.
Back then, my friends and I often embarked on what we called “photographic adventures.”
We spent days running around the city and taking pictures of each other posing on park benches like Alexa Chung or on empty train tracks (yes, I know it’s illegal).
We posted these images, often accompanied by nonsense quotes (“I think of you with colors that don’t exist”), hoping to get a ton of likes and reblogs.
And even though I never became famous, I felt fulfilled, as if I could wear and create whatever I wanted, without criticism and without judgment.
Now, looking around, I observe these celebrity couples with their punk-allure accessories and semi-sheer dresses (and the inevitable public effusions), and I think I rarely felt like when I dressed like that.
Perhaps because I am now a full-fledged adult, with responsibilities and anxieties to manage, or perhaps because nowadays it is more difficult to find inspiration(no, Instagram isn’t the same, if you were wondering).
And I imagine I’m not the one who thinks so.
TikTok, the event of enormous cultural impact that was the second season of Euphoria, and designers are giving resonance to this trend because people want to wear those provocative and rebellious clothes à la Tumblr again (maybe but with fewer sweaters with kittens and plus Olivia Rodrigo-style out fit), and she wants to do it without being judged.
All of this made me want to access my old profile again.
But to my dismay, my account was blocked.
My photos. My reblogs. My “poetry.” All lost, vanished into thin air, held hostage by a now-defunct email address.
Some of the best – and most embarrassing – years of my life now float into the abyss of the Internet with no chance of recovery.
Ancient civilizations have lost the Great Library of Alexandria; I have lost my archive as a young, splendid, authentic embarrassment.
