You know what I think the biggest barrier to freelancing is? Other than a fear of the unknown, anxiety over meeting new people and the inability to predict when your next pay check will land in your account. These things are surmountable, you can learn to embrace the unknown and see it is as a gift rather than a curse when you're avoiding rush hour and not using up a day's holiday to wait at home for the Gas man [my day today]. No, it's the gargantuan effort it takes to be motivated. Actually, scrap that- to self motivate. Most people with an office base will have somewhere they need to be every day at a certain time, a particular routine that they will stick to most days and at least a handful of colleagues to complain about work to.
Not so if you're a freelancer. We have to seem happy, motivated, enthusiastic and indefatigable at all times- just in case a potential employer is in the vicinity, spots a peppier version of you and you lose out on the most lucrative contract of your life. Ok, that last part is highly unlikely but it's true that it's such a pressure to be bright, happy and willing to do just about anything that comes your way, and all with a smile on your face. I used to cheerfully say, "beggars can't be choosers!" when asked to do something where my first reaction was to run away. Now, I feel more philosophical about things [or maybe I'm growing some balls, as my dad helpfully put it]. I don't think you do have to do anything and everything or bend over backwards for other people- or just be grateful for the work you're given. No, all you have to do is put yourself out there and try.
So, with that in mind I [metaphorically] got off my behind and tried. I sent out emails to as many stylists as I could- some replied and a lot didn't, but that's ok because at least I'm making progress. I'm part of the way to discovering who, and what, I want to be in 5 years time and that's exciting, and scary!
Next time, something more uplifting- depending on how my interviews go. Fingers crossed!
Thursday, 20 August 2015
Wednesday, 19 August 2015
The curse of being 25
I turned 25 a couple of months ago- no big deal, right? What's one more year. Apparently, 25 is a big one. I have noted that it's the last point at which you can buy a 16-25 rail card, the exact moment you're no longer part of the much coveted 18-24 demographic and the age at which you are now too old to enter the Vogue Talent Contest. Either talent runs dry at 24 or Vogue presumes that a grown person of 25 should be equipped to make their own success by this stage in life. Now, the contest may not seem like a big deal to most, but I have entered this in the past and when I was unsuccessful I thought to myself, "there's always next year." Only now there isn't. 25, it seems, is the point of no return.
Helpfully, it's also the age at which my parents started making remarks about my employability in the fashion industry. I am an adult now, fully capable of paying for full price tube fare- no 30% discount needed. Which, for most of my peers is true but, sadly, for me is not. Of course, I haven't told them that. I remain defiant in the face of a quarter of a century on this planet, but deep down maybe I am worried too. I'm wondering when I should reassess what I'm doing, when I should start actually thinking about my [lack of] pension and where I'm going to live when it is beyond inappropriate to still be living with my mum..
I'm lucky in many ways, lucky to have been born and raised in London so I have a family home to always be able to return to- rent free, I may add- and fortunate that I met a lovely man who is willing to support me in any way I should need it. The only problem is that I don't want to need it. I want to channel serious Beyonce vibes and not have to worry that in old age, I will have a lot of shoes but no food in my fridge that isn't from the reduced section.
I want to still feel as if everything is possible, to believe that the next big thing for me is just around the corner- the same way I did when I was fresh out of University and the sky was the limit. I still feel that way, but occasionally I meet another freelancer who is younger, seemingly more successful and way more optimistic than me- and then I feel like the crypt-keeper.
For the record, what's the cut off point for getting a piercing? I laughed in the face of 25 and got my lucky number 13th ear piercing. My ears are becoming quite the work of art, and with about £300 worth of metal in them perhaps I can rest assured that I could always sell that to make some quick cash?!
Helpfully, it's also the age at which my parents started making remarks about my employability in the fashion industry. I am an adult now, fully capable of paying for full price tube fare- no 30% discount needed. Which, for most of my peers is true but, sadly, for me is not. Of course, I haven't told them that. I remain defiant in the face of a quarter of a century on this planet, but deep down maybe I am worried too. I'm wondering when I should reassess what I'm doing, when I should start actually thinking about my [lack of] pension and where I'm going to live when it is beyond inappropriate to still be living with my mum..
I'm lucky in many ways, lucky to have been born and raised in London so I have a family home to always be able to return to- rent free, I may add- and fortunate that I met a lovely man who is willing to support me in any way I should need it. The only problem is that I don't want to need it. I want to channel serious Beyonce vibes and not have to worry that in old age, I will have a lot of shoes but no food in my fridge that isn't from the reduced section.
I want to still feel as if everything is possible, to believe that the next big thing for me is just around the corner- the same way I did when I was fresh out of University and the sky was the limit. I still feel that way, but occasionally I meet another freelancer who is younger, seemingly more successful and way more optimistic than me- and then I feel like the crypt-keeper.
For the record, what's the cut off point for getting a piercing? I laughed in the face of 25 and got my lucky number 13th ear piercing. My ears are becoming quite the work of art, and with about £300 worth of metal in them perhaps I can rest assured that I could always sell that to make some quick cash?!
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