05/11/2019 part 1
I created this blog back in 2010. Almost ten years have passed. I was young and I grew old. Blogspot became blogger (!?) and through the oceans, or just lets say the puddles, of time I am back here trying to figure our which was the URL I had chosen back in the time. was it myvanityaffair.blogspot.com?
was it yourvanityaffair.blahblahblah.com. I can't remember and to be honest, I can't be arsed anymore.
Back then the name of MY blog was really important to me. I spent days to figure out what it would be. At that time I was reading Thackeray's homonymous book, my vanity was as high as the ceilings of a neoclassic townhouse and vanity fair was already taken. But that was my vanity. And it wasn't a fair. It was an affair with myself. So I tried vanity affair. Taken. My vanity affair. Taken as well. and your vanity affair was born, for anybody vein enough out there, to relate.
The whole plan was for it to become a fashion blog. Ha. And not even one in English. (oops deja vu!!damn you Matrix glitching all the time). In another language which i will not reveal just yet, just to keep you at the edge of your seat regarding my nationality, as if you would care...yeap i was a lot more pessimistic back then). Or it felt charming to be.
I always enjoyed role playing, dressing up, as Cesar as Cleo, as the Goddess Athena, a Valkyrie, an explorer, a castaway, a vamp, a vampire, a witch, a 20s flapper, a 50's pinup; you name it, I wore it. In a country where dressing up on a weekday was frowned upon if not absurdly weird. What could one do? I loved big hats with veils and green glittery slippers regardless other people's opinion.
Maybe because reality was so boring, maybe because i was so vain? Maybe because acting was in my blood? Maybe due to my depression or my inescapable tendencies to escape from this world and step into another of mine?
I still don't know, I still have a difficulty gathering my elusive thoughts, as you can read. It is like herding cats...with wings...on wheels...( yep, you guessed right: this is an ode to the wizard of Oz, only disguised as I am behing those black and white stripes of letters).
Anyhow. If you are still reading, we are getting somewhere. Or not. And don't sweat it. Probably no one is reading this or ever will and that's the "glory of the beauty of" it. You just spit your words out there in that abysmal internet, and they are travelling lost and alone out there, between zeros and ones above and through the Cloud.
Yes, I am writing this post, (is it a blog?is it an article?? is it a plane???) earth to Yolanda earth to Yolanda. Rewind and Repeat...
Yes. I am writing this post for you dear reader and only you.
This is the reason it was called YOUR vanity affair. It is your secret affair. With me.
Me, yourself and I.
05/11/2019 part 2
Pink.
I still wear my pink glasses. companies societies people my, few, friends my shrink my mother my boss all of them want me to get rid of them. But Pink was always my favourite colour. The singer not as much. I loved pink panther since the age of three. I loved my patapoufa doll with its luscious pink hair at the age of five, i was wearing a pink outfit from top to bottom the first day I went to high school. Legally blonde could have been based on me minus the harvard part and plus plus all the bullying which i didn't know it had a name back then. ( i loved the movie by the way). I was obsessed with scarlet's johanson baby pink wig in lost in translation, hated the movie, but i was naive when it was released, come on don't judge!! There must have been a time were you thought that sofia coppola only got to make movies because of her father's name, and same on me because i should celebrate her as a female director in a sea of testosterone)
and as i saw today the colour i had chosen for my blog to be, was pink. Random? think twiceYolanda( and of course my name is not Yolanda, my father may have hated me but my godmother didn't.
YES. it doesn't make sense there is no goal, it is just thoughts spurt on aN electronic paper. usually i write when i am inspired, when i want to lash out somewhere, when i think that a have a revolutionary revelation going on my head. (In my head I said, don't expect any of these to make sense to you mere mortals... I am teasing ;), I just can't help it...
So why am I writing this day, today of all days on the Guy Fawkes night of all nights, after all those years?
Well i won't tell you just yet, I will keep you in your toes. And not because I am a sadist, maybe just a bit, but because all the mambo jumbo ABOVE served their purpose. by confessing through writing, my confusion which urged me to write in the first place, vanished.
writing is indeed cathartic maybe not to some, but to me definitely. and if I wasn't that knackered trust me i would tell you (not that i believe that you are still reading me as the main character believed that Sophie wasn't (reading him) in Sophie's world. Great book by the way despite the obvious lack of pink.
And since no one reads this You know what I ll do? I ll post it as it is, imperfect as I am, and i will proofread it tomorrow while telling you about my Guy Fawkes day's frustrations.
(invisible hugs and) kisses because I can and you don't care. xxxxx
p.s. long live the proofspelling thingies
p.s. 1 my perfectionism ushered me to read it at least once and one thing lead to the other. still it is imperfect just so you know.
