Dear ‘street style’,

what a year it was!

How much we love that high lo of fashion is proportional to how much we want to be bloggers.

But what is it that we want from the life of a blogger? Dress like one, aspire to go to runways and stumble upon The Sartorialist on the way to?

What is it so desirable that drags us to follow, stalk and admire them as much as … Justin Timberlake?

If ‘Bloggers wear shit that everybody else admires them for’ is your answer, then let it be known, you float in the Olympus with the likes of Mira Duma, Anna Dello Russo and Rachel Zoe.

The Olympus of bloggers is populated by those who do it well as a 24-hour job. Even though it’s that secret that is not revealed, they are pampered and favorites. They become the elected by fashion houses for first row seats, VIP discounts and showers of gifts. Those who are ’famous for being famous’ (to say it with Suzy Menkes) and who love  live for posing outside fashion shows to draw attention and cause a frenzy.

If your answer is ‘I want to dress like a blogger’ then you are in the Kingdom, situated underneath Mount Olympus. Those are the ones who are not front row regulars, they live not where things go down, they are invited to local affaires, have random commercial gigs. They are royalty to their readers for their way of dressing. They have thousands of followers.

If your answer is ‘Bloggers wear shit that everybody else admires them for AND I can’t wait to read the next post and would love to write for her’ then I know you very well, because I am also one of you. There you have a limited niche of … us. Remaining with the royal game, we are the courtiers. 

We are the ones that have an extended, profound, detailed, solid knowledge about fashion as our pain quotidien. History, garments, lace, haberdashery, buttons, millineries, embroideries, bespoke, WWD and Jane Austen.

We have had our dose of years behind the scenes, have worked and met the most talented artisans and designers.

We recognize and appreciate at a glance if what’s coming down the runway is a collection or a jumble of vestments.

We are the ones that get shivers when visiting an exhibition or a museum’s retrospective like standing in front of the David in Piazza Signoria.

The ones who are able to admire an embroidery by reaching it close and touching it. The same that can’t stand when someone cannot discern an embroidered tulle from Leavers lace. 

We wake up earlier on Saturday morning when fashion week is in Milan and we need to look at the pictures of Bottega Veneta before the review comes out.

Yes we are opinionated, we don’t shut our mouths, we feel entitled to say what we think, especially when we are disappointed. We dress and speak bold whether we are grocery shopping or attending an event.

We wear silver shoes without thinking we are over dressed.

We eat, pray love fashion. We strive for innovation and, at the same time, we can’t stand when some basic rule (like no brown for men after 6 pm) gets disregarded. God forbid a designer is disrespectful or forgetful of the heritage of the house he’s been nominated creative director of. (There is only one Karl in the world).

We take fashion by the rules and if there’s one thing that drives us insane are any type of knock-offs.

We are not millionaires and we know it. But there is nothing more vulgar than pretending to have something and not having it. When we spot it, it hurts like a nail scratch on a black board. 

We are the ones that want everything around us beautiful and that will be our life. The ones that swear by anything that Diana Vreeland loved and said. The ones who dream of a Wallis Simpson closet and jewelry safe and listen to jazz.

The ones who dream of vacationing on a Riva with Tiffany blue leather interiors and that Mrs. Robinson’s leopard coat.

And, what about you? Are you one of us?