When I was 12, I was a gregarious nutcase - strung out from 12 moves (the parents didn't like to settle too long) in a few countries - one of those kids who is outgoing by nature and necessity. But I was tired. And anxious. I went to a private school in TO. It was a rough assimilation but eventually I fit in. It was a place for smart girls who cared about being smart and worked their asses off. Especially me because that was the only way I could stay afloat. Which only made me more tired.
Of course, my parents thought I was a genius! :-) My sister was the willowy, attractive high-achiever in the arts. She had difficulty taking tests, while I loved them. (I still love a good test. I get off on that sparky feeling that only comes from being tested and succeeding. I never know how I'm going to save myself but I seem to find a way, which thrills me and reinforces my awareness of resiliency...) But I was not good with failure.
So afeared was I of fucking up, let's just say it really took a toll. I was a creative child, a creative adolescent. I wanted to write (I know, I've mentioned this before in other posts...); I was afraid to write. Eventually I lost the urge to write. People would ask me why I'd stopped. "You were so talented" (my mother would say). I stopped because I'd never started. Burbling creativity was a touchstone for my (far more insistent) urge to repress.
Per usual, I have no idea how I've managed to natter on so incessantly when this post was not supposed to be about me.
It's supposed to be about a terrific 12-year old blogger I discovered a couple of months ago. Her name is Tavi and her blog is wryly entitled "Style Rookie". This girl is adorable, irrepressible and (from the looks of it) wise beyond her years. She manages to write entirely age-appropriately but with a sassy undertone that belies her age. She takes great photos of herself. Photos that reinforce my belief that style isn't learned. Or, at least, if it is - it's learned very, very young. And she's a veritable marketing machine. Can't tell you how this girl delights me. Such spirit, such exuberance, such confidence!
The amateur forecaster in me suggests you keep your eye on this one, because - take it from someone who's been reading vogue lo these 25 years - the future of fashion rests on the broadening shoulders of girls like her. Let's support them, shall we? Encourage them to strive. Offer up our experience as ballast. In failure and success, they're going to shape the world... Just like we do now. One post at a time.