 |
| photo credit: Joshua Franzos |
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a world in possession of countless fashion bloggers, surely must be in want of just one more. However little known the feelings or views of such a saturated market, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of ambitious bloggers that inevitable fame and fortune are considered the rightful property of some one or other of their selves and daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "Have you heard what a single fashion blogger made in a year?"
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
"Do you not know who has made this vast fortune?" cried his wife impatiently.
"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
This was invitation enough.
"Why, my dear, you must know. Mrs. Long says that a mere fashion blogger has made 8 million this past annum."
"What is her name?"
"Ferragni."
"Is she married or single?"
"Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? How can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "How can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of them doing the same. They are lovely and stylish and have nothing better to do with their time! Oh, and their husbands can take their likenesses for their blogs...thus saving time,expense and what not."
Mr. Bennet returned his attention to the latest Ann Radcliffe novel but added, "What about Kitty and Mary?"
"Oh, I can't worry about getting husbands for Kitty and Mary! Netherfield is let to a family. There are no trifling husbands to be had for Kitty and Mary. No, blogs are the future!"
"If you say so, wife."
"Yes, Mr. Bennet, I shall write to our Jane, our Lydia, and our Lizzy at once. I must do it before Sir William and Lady Lucas urge their Charlotte to get a piece of this pie."
Mr. Bennet looked up again and frowned, "You are over scrupulous surely. If they are successful, they will be, though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."
"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others: and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good humored as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference."
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he, "they are all silly and only interested in shopping like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters. I think she shall make a very fine writer."
"Mr. Bennett, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You delight in vexing me."
"You mistake me my dear."
"Ah! you do not know what I suffer!"
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many stylish young women become bloggers."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve and caprice, that the experience of five and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand him. She was a woman of mean understanding and the business of her life was to get her five daughters either married or blogging.
A week later, two letters arrived by post at Pemberly, and were delivered to the lady of the house, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, while she took her morning tea. One letter from her dearest, dear, sweet papa and then one from mama.
Darcy looked up from his breakfast scone and asked his wife, "What news from Longbourn, my love? All good, I trust."
Elizabeth set her mama's letter down on the breakfast table and sighed, "It seems mama is set on Jane, Lydia and I starting fashion blogs. She thinks it will increase our society and our fortunes."
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy exchanged a shared look and sipped their respective cups of tea.
The light filtered in through large morning room windows, shewing the vast property and lands of Pemberly. It was very much in the throes of fall on the calendar, but the sun and the temperatures had remained quite clement.The hills rolled, the grass was green and the lake was filled with fat geese.
"What sayeth your papa?" asked Mr. Darcy, changing the subject to one he believed to be more agreeable.
"only that he never questions mama's sanity, only his own, and that for his sanity's sake, I should appease my mama on this one request, or he shall never have a moment's peace," replied Elizabeth.
Darcy smiled knowingly. Elizabeth did all she could to shield him from constant perceived mortification of her family, but some still leaked beyond the reach of his diminutive wife, and he was amused by it. Darcy glanced through the pages of Mrs. Bennet's hand and when he was quite through, folded them up neatly and placed them back on the silver tray.
"My business is stable at present. What say you? Shall we try this blog enterprise? You have a lovely hand at writing. I should think a great many people would like to read what you have to say on the matter of style."
"Is that so? Can you imagine Caroline Bingley reading my blog? Shall I name it, 'Petticoats Six Inches Deep in Mud'? or even perhaps, "an Abominable Sort of Conceited Independence?"
"Upon my word, what is keeping Georgiana this morning?" Darcy cried, pulling his pocketwatch from his waistcoat. He'd very much regret telling his wife what Caroline Bingley had once thought of her. That had been an admission in a most ungentlemanlike manner. He chided himself again.
Coincidentally, Georgiana Darcy flounced into the morning room and seated herself in the chivari nearest the window. Her flaxen curls glowed in the sun and bounced to a rest on her shoulders.
"I'm sorry I'm late to breakfast. What are we talking about?" she asked with a smile. Her white gown picked up the light of the sun and made her appear an angel.
"Your brother and I were discussing me starting a fashion blog."
"Oh, sister!" cried Georgiana, "You should! I would read it."
"But," censured Elizabeth with pursed lips,"do you consider me to be a beacon of style?"
"You certainly have your own personal style that living at Pemberly certainly hasn't altered," nodded Georgiana as she reached for a scone, "and I daresay a quick wit, that I would gobble up quicker than this breakfast pastry."
"You did not answer the question that was asked," noted Elizabeth,"twas very rude Georgiana, very rude indeed."
Elizabeth smiled wickedly at her sister in-law and Georgiana's laughter filled the morning room.
The conversation faltered while the steward procured a tea cup, a saucer and poured a fresh cup of hot tea from the silver pot for Miss Georgiana. Elizabeth cleared her throat uncomfortably, she was still not used to the level of decorum and servitude at Pemberley.
"Thank you, James," Elizabeth, Darcy and Georgiana expressed as if on queue.
The party waited a period while the steward walked away to resume their casual conversation.
"You are still prone to chusing those types of fabrics that appear to be, as you described, 'six inches deep in mud'" observed Darcy.
Elizabeth folded her arms and said, "It's called ombre, husband. And am I to understand that neither of you considers to me be current? Then, if so, why should I bother, when no one wants to see what I would chuse to offer? That is the half of it afterall, 'Affiliate Sales' and what."
"Nay, to current in the tradtional sense," Georgiana said as she stirred cream into her tea, "You are much too practical, timeless, and otherwordly for that."
"You are joking, I know you to be!" cried Elizabeth, "and you know I shall take the most difficult, mud-trodden route-as I always do."
"If you want happiness in blogging, perhaps you should just do what others before you have done and shew eagerness in glitter and cupcakes."
"You sounded very much like my friend Charlotte just then. And aye, but then the personal style blog would rather be more like a work of short fiction and I don't want to portray my self as one that is accomplished, when I know that I am not."
"I consider you to both to be among the most accomplished women of my aquaintance. And you, my dear Elizabeth, there is something bewitching about you. Body and soul. And if the general public can't recognize what I do, then, damn them," said Darcy.
"You love me because I'm impertinent and utterly ridiculous. That is all," apologized Elizabeth.
Georgiana, Elizabeth and Darcy each sipped their tea.
"Brother," asked Georgiana as she set her Imari tea cup and saucer down, "You are quite accomplished as well. Would you take Elizabeth's likeness for her blog, or would you hire a professional?"
"Have a mercenary stranger cast his eyes upon her fair decolletage? I should think not," Darcy replied with an unabashed gaze at his wife's bosom, "I've studied under the great masters in Europe. You can count on me to always let you know when your figure appears to best advantage."
"Shocking husband," Elizabeth's cheeks produced roses, but then she added, "then I suppose it's settled. I haven't a chance in Hades for success, but I'll do it anyway because I rather would like to wrap my head around my own sartorial dilemmas and this seems like a good, albeit very public forum for self discovery. Shall I write my mama and tell her at once?"
"Success is relative, Elizabeth," replied Darcy in all seriousness,"It's more important that you try and discover your true self than to pander. Those who pander never truly achieve eternal life."
"Eternal life through dress," Elizabeth laughed, "Hardly. I shall scarcely make ten pounds in affiliate sales in the course of a year. I know I shall. But, If I should ever achieve eternal life, it should be because I surround myself with the best sort of people that believe in me more than I dare to believe in myself."
"You are a classic Romantic heroine that dresses for literary imortality,"Darcy replied, pushing himself away from the breakfast table,"one can scarcely expect that to be appreciated now...But mark my words, you'll go down in books. Your headstrong ways will inspire the type of characters that want to withstand the test of time."
"Oh, husband," said Elizabeth with a devilish grin, "You are most amiable when you flatter my vanity."
Okay. The fan fiction is over. Now for the real questions. Colin Firth or Matthew MacFadyen? Jennifer Ehle or Keira Knightley? Discuss.
"Ferragni."
"Is she married or single?"
"Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! What a fine thing for our girls!"
"How so? How can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "How can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of them doing the same. They are lovely and stylish and have nothing better to do with their time! Oh, and their husbands can take their likenesses for their blogs...thus saving time,expense and what not."
Mr. Bennet returned his attention to the latest Ann Radcliffe novel but added, "What about Kitty and Mary?"
"Oh, I can't worry about getting husbands for Kitty and Mary! Netherfield is let to a family. There are no trifling husbands to be had for Kitty and Mary. No, blogs are the future!"
"If you say so, wife."
"Yes, Mr. Bennet, I shall write to our Jane, our Lydia, and our Lizzy at once. I must do it before Sir William and Lady Lucas urge their Charlotte to get a piece of this pie."
Mr. Bennet looked up again and frowned, "You are over scrupulous surely. If they are successful, they will be, though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."
"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others: and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good humored as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference."
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he, "they are all silly and only interested in shopping like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters. I think she shall make a very fine writer."
"Mr. Bennett, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You delight in vexing me."
"You mistake me my dear."
"Ah! you do not know what I suffer!"
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many stylish young women become bloggers."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve and caprice, that the experience of five and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand him. She was a woman of mean understanding and the business of her life was to get her five daughters either married or blogging.
 |
| photo credit: Joshua Franzos |
 |
| photo credit: Joshua Franzos |
 |
| photo credit: Joshua Franzos |
A week later, two letters arrived by post at Pemberly, and were delivered to the lady of the house, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, while she took her morning tea. One letter from her dearest, dear, sweet papa and then one from mama.
Darcy looked up from his breakfast scone and asked his wife, "What news from Longbourn, my love? All good, I trust."
Elizabeth set her mama's letter down on the breakfast table and sighed, "It seems mama is set on Jane, Lydia and I starting fashion blogs. She thinks it will increase our society and our fortunes."
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy exchanged a shared look and sipped their respective cups of tea.
The light filtered in through large morning room windows, shewing the vast property and lands of Pemberly. It was very much in the throes of fall on the calendar, but the sun and the temperatures had remained quite clement.The hills rolled, the grass was green and the lake was filled with fat geese.
"What sayeth your papa?" asked Mr. Darcy, changing the subject to one he believed to be more agreeable.
"only that he never questions mama's sanity, only his own, and that for his sanity's sake, I should appease my mama on this one request, or he shall never have a moment's peace," replied Elizabeth.
Darcy smiled knowingly. Elizabeth did all she could to shield him from constant perceived mortification of her family, but some still leaked beyond the reach of his diminutive wife, and he was amused by it. Darcy glanced through the pages of Mrs. Bennet's hand and when he was quite through, folded them up neatly and placed them back on the silver tray.
"My business is stable at present. What say you? Shall we try this blog enterprise? You have a lovely hand at writing. I should think a great many people would like to read what you have to say on the matter of style."
"Is that so? Can you imagine Caroline Bingley reading my blog? Shall I name it, 'Petticoats Six Inches Deep in Mud'? or even perhaps, "an Abominable Sort of Conceited Independence?"
"Upon my word, what is keeping Georgiana this morning?" Darcy cried, pulling his pocketwatch from his waistcoat. He'd very much regret telling his wife what Caroline Bingley had once thought of her. That had been an admission in a most ungentlemanlike manner. He chided himself again.
Coincidentally, Georgiana Darcy flounced into the morning room and seated herself in the chivari nearest the window. Her flaxen curls glowed in the sun and bounced to a rest on her shoulders.
"I'm sorry I'm late to breakfast. What are we talking about?" she asked with a smile. Her white gown picked up the light of the sun and made her appear an angel.
"Your brother and I were discussing me starting a fashion blog."
"Oh, sister!" cried Georgiana, "You should! I would read it."
"But," censured Elizabeth with pursed lips,"do you consider me to be a beacon of style?"
"You certainly have your own personal style that living at Pemberly certainly hasn't altered," nodded Georgiana as she reached for a scone, "and I daresay a quick wit, that I would gobble up quicker than this breakfast pastry."
"You did not answer the question that was asked," noted Elizabeth,"twas very rude Georgiana, very rude indeed."
Elizabeth smiled wickedly at her sister in-law and Georgiana's laughter filled the morning room.
The conversation faltered while the steward procured a tea cup, a saucer and poured a fresh cup of hot tea from the silver pot for Miss Georgiana. Elizabeth cleared her throat uncomfortably, she was still not used to the level of decorum and servitude at Pemberley.
"Thank you, James," Elizabeth, Darcy and Georgiana expressed as if on queue.
The party waited a period while the steward walked away to resume their casual conversation.
"You are still prone to chusing those types of fabrics that appear to be, as you described, 'six inches deep in mud'" observed Darcy.
Elizabeth folded her arms and said, "It's called ombre, husband. And am I to understand that neither of you considers to me be current? Then, if so, why should I bother, when no one wants to see what I would chuse to offer? That is the half of it afterall, 'Affiliate Sales' and what."
"Nay, to current in the tradtional sense," Georgiana said as she stirred cream into her tea, "You are much too practical, timeless, and otherwordly for that."
"You are joking, I know you to be!" cried Elizabeth, "and you know I shall take the most difficult, mud-trodden route-as I always do."
"If you want happiness in blogging, perhaps you should just do what others before you have done and shew eagerness in glitter and cupcakes."
"You sounded very much like my friend Charlotte just then. And aye, but then the personal style blog would rather be more like a work of short fiction and I don't want to portray my self as one that is accomplished, when I know that I am not."
"I consider you to both to be among the most accomplished women of my aquaintance. And you, my dear Elizabeth, there is something bewitching about you. Body and soul. And if the general public can't recognize what I do, then, damn them," said Darcy.
"You love me because I'm impertinent and utterly ridiculous. That is all," apologized Elizabeth.
Georgiana, Elizabeth and Darcy each sipped their tea.
"Brother," asked Georgiana as she set her Imari tea cup and saucer down, "You are quite accomplished as well. Would you take Elizabeth's likeness for her blog, or would you hire a professional?"
"Have a mercenary stranger cast his eyes upon her fair decolletage? I should think not," Darcy replied with an unabashed gaze at his wife's bosom, "I've studied under the great masters in Europe. You can count on me to always let you know when your figure appears to best advantage."
"Shocking husband," Elizabeth's cheeks produced roses, but then she added, "then I suppose it's settled. I haven't a chance in Hades for success, but I'll do it anyway because I rather would like to wrap my head around my own sartorial dilemmas and this seems like a good, albeit very public forum for self discovery. Shall I write my mama and tell her at once?"
"Success is relative, Elizabeth," replied Darcy in all seriousness,"It's more important that you try and discover your true self than to pander. Those who pander never truly achieve eternal life."
"Eternal life through dress," Elizabeth laughed, "Hardly. I shall scarcely make ten pounds in affiliate sales in the course of a year. I know I shall. But, If I should ever achieve eternal life, it should be because I surround myself with the best sort of people that believe in me more than I dare to believe in myself."
"You are a classic Romantic heroine that dresses for literary imortality,"Darcy replied, pushing himself away from the breakfast table,"one can scarcely expect that to be appreciated now...But mark my words, you'll go down in books. Your headstrong ways will inspire the type of characters that want to withstand the test of time."
"Oh, husband," said Elizabeth with a devilish grin, "You are most amiable when you flatter my vanity."
 |
| photo credit: Joshua Franzos |
 |
| photo credit: Joshua Franzos |
 |
| photo credit: Joshua Franzos |
Okay. The fan fiction is over. Now for the real questions. Colin Firth or Matthew MacFadyen? Jennifer Ehle or Keira Knightley? Discuss.
What I Wore:
Boots: Vintage English riding boots found on Ebay.
Socks: Urban Outfitters. Similar here.
Cardigan: Irelandseye. Purchased locally at the Irish Design Center
Blouse: Ekle. Purchase locally at Issue.
Dress: Felicity and Coco, here.
wow meryl. just wow. what an amazing sunday night read. this view of blogging speaks to my soul and why I started...
ReplyDelete"It's more important that you try and discover your true self than to pander. Those who pander never truly achieve eternal life." - love it. heading to my real life pinterest board immediately
Aww, shucks. Thanks Jessa! Much love<3
DeleteI loved reading that! I didn't know you were into creative writing and such a great way to shed your view on blogging :) - keep posting more.
ReplyDeletethestyleboro.com
Aileen, thank you! I live to creative write. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I feel no greater joy than when someone likes something I wrote.
Delete