Any Press is Good Press--Right?

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Being a fashion blogger means that you have to have a bit of a thicker skin than most.  I mean, we are by no means celebrities or anything, but we do put ourselves out there on the internet for inspiration, scrutiny and otherwise.  This means that at any given time, nearly anyone from any corner of the world can see what we are wearing and hear what we say.  Crazy to think about. 

Another term that is well-known to the fashion blogger are "stats".  Some bloggers state that they do not like to keep track of their stats.  They don't care who looks at their page or how many times.  It's not about that for them.  Well, I am not about stats either.  I don't really get paid for my blogging, though, so my compensation, other than the occasional gifted item, is knowing that my blog is being read.   So, I check my stats frequently.  Mostly this is out of morbid curiosity.   On Friday, I noticed a crazy spike in my stats.  They call came from this source:

Yep.  Cosmo.  The Cosmo.  Clearly, it is not from the United States.  I believe it is from the Czech Republic or somewhere.  I started getting all excited, but confused.  There were no pictures and I couldn't find my blog name anywhere.  It was just in an open forum and everything was in Slovenian.  But then, I saw the only English words on the whole page: 

Huh.  Um.  This is not good.  But . . . where does my blog come in to play in all of this?  I scrolled down a little to find these two comments referencing my Valentine's Day outfit from my blog:

So what does this mean?  Well, being simultaneously curious and freaking out, I Google translated that shit to find out that the first comment translates to "any of these girls" and the second one made no sense to me, even translated.  All I got a gist of was that this person did not like my shirt, my neutral-"pants" and something about rags and youth.   

Now, clearly, I had been burnt.  And my pride was going through all the hurt feelers motions.  First, we had denial.  This had to be a mistake.  This isn't really happening.  Something must have gone wrong. 

Next stage was defensive bitchiness.  What the FUCK?!?!  Oh, sure.  These bitches are all up and through here talking shit when they probably don't even realize that I was dressing for a style challenge for a fucking holiday that they probably don't even have to celebrate!  And I don't even like Valentine's Day!  And where are these girls at?  All I see from their avatar is a picture of Kate Middleton.  You know this bitch probably doesn't even look like Kate Middleton!  Well FORGEEEEEET YOOOOOU!!!

When that was all over, I got rational.  I mean, really, who cares?  So there might be some people out there (who are not really bitches) that don't like my outfit.  So what?  And since when do I care?  I made a high school career out of purely wearing outfits solely to repulse people.  And, when it's all said and done, is this going to really effect me?  These girls are probably half way across the world from where I am.  They don't know me.  Will this effect my style?  No.  I still love clothes and my clothes and my outfits.  Granted, I don't like everything I wear all the time, but I consider most of my outfits a win. 

When it was all said and done, the shock and denial subsided, the anger widdled away and the realizations set in, I was left with nothing but facts.  And the facts are: this little stint-good, bad or indifferent-raised my stats by 1,000 in two days.  It could have brought me new readers, even if it's only to see how they don't want to dress.  As my sister said, my style spoke to someone.  It spoke to someone enough for them to get on the Cosmopolitan website and talk about it.  And, at the end of the day, I really did like my outfit that day and stand by my decision that it was perfect for Valentine's Day.  Eh, you can't win 'em all. 

So, I put on a total "me" look today, complete with Aquarius necklace (we are known rebels and "take that"-ers), and sprinted on over to my sister's house.  My niece Juli was there.  She was putting on a fashion show with my daughter and other two nieces, Anya and Emma.  She had been waiting for me to arrive because she wanted me to be the judge of their fashion show because "I am the best at clothes and stuff."  The winner would get a Dora the Explorer birthday pin.  I could not have been more honored.  This is the only audience that I need to please. 

So, that's that.  I thought about just letting this blow over, it's really not a big deal anyway.  But I just kept thinking about it for some reason and I thought that perhaps other bloggers could relate. And, I wanted to share my reality check with the non-bloggers.  It was kind of eye-opening really, though on a very small scale.

In other news, I wore my biggest, gaudiest, sparkliest ring in my possession to celebrate something very special.  Ladies, as we speak, I am watching the season premier of *drumroll* Jerseylicious!  Yay for having my girls back!

Other big news?  Today Kaden went on his first little date.  He took a girl to the movies.  (This one, if you're curious.)  It was the first time, I was told to just "drop him off at the door".  I didn't.  I followed him in, made sure he got the movie tickets and paid for the snacks.  Also, I took some secret "mom" pictures with my cel phone.  He had been doing chores all weekend to earn the money so that he could take her and so that she "wouldn't have to pay a penny."  Now that's my kind of style.   

Maybe some people don't think I have the same style as they do.  Maybe I could play it safe in jeans and tees.  No one says anything about tees and jeans.  Maybe I could stop blogging my outfits and throw up my hands.  But that's not me.  I'm not a play it safe girl and I certainly don't give up or give in.  I'm stubborn.  I'm independent.  I'm rebellious.  I'm an Aquarian.  And if nothing else, I raise kids with style.  Enough so that I was given V.I.P. status for judging fashion shows with some of the most beautiful ladies in the world.  I raise sons who appreciate the beauty of individual women inside and out enough to buy one popcorn, with his own money, and not eat any of it because he was too nervous that he would bump into her hand.  Now that's style.

Brown Leather Moto Jacket-Mossimo; Chambray Short Sleeve Top-Style & Co., thrifted; Pastel Pink Swing Skirt-Express, thrifted; Gray Tights-unknown; Gray Suede Platform Oxfords-Mossimo; Watch-Patrick's; Earrings-gifted; Ring-Department of Clothing