I’m changing the way I use social media, a bit. Subscribing to more folks on Instagram that do the kinds of things I want to do… but they are doing them at a level I know I’ll never invest the time to achieve.
For example, I’ve enjoyed sewing for most of my life. My paternal grandmother would give me scraps of curtains and I’d make costumes to turn myself into an elf or fairy. My mom taught me to applique a quilt block. From my early 20s, I’ve had my own machine. I’ve made plenty of terrible “real life” clothes, and some really nice ones. I made Halloween costumes with one of my nieces for five years running. I’ve made extravagant Halloween costumes for myself. I’m not a beginner, but I’m also not an expert.
I’ve long had a dream of making some historical clothes for myself, and as the season turns towards fall and I’m still housebound due to the pandemic, the project has begun to coalesce from theoretical to actionable. This has been accompanied by a dive into the Historical Costumer social media.
Now, normally, I don’t engage with much “aspirational”/influencer content. I use social media to follow people I actually know in real life. So being exposed to this whole historical clothing subculture has been a bit of a head trip for me. Here are all these women (I’m sure there are men and nonbinary folks working in the space, but so far I’ve overwhelmingly seen women) who are doing this on a level I cannot even dream of reaching! And not only are they crazy-good at what they do, they are all so pretty and thin with perfect skin!!
Not going to lie, it’s made me feel pretty insecure. I think of myself as a pretty solid seamstress, and also a history nerd. But next to these folks, I am an idiot monkey with a pair of scissors. I know there are years of hard work behind their success. I also know that I’ll never invest that level of energy. It makes me want to give up before I begin.
I’ve felt paralyzed by this imposter syndrom forever. I vividly remember my family decrying anyone who seemed too “try hard” at anything as a “poser”. My sister decided on her craft at approximately age ten and has invested in it since. I remember at sixteen, I was gifted a guitar and guitar lessons by my dad. I felt like it was ‘too late’ for me to learn guitar. I’d be a poser. All the “real” cool kids who played guitar already knew how to do it! I was, I cannot emphasize this enough, sixteen.
I am now 35. I still can’t play guitar, though I have done a few stints with apps/youtube videos in the past few years to try to remedy this. I wish I could go back to that sixteen year old self and tell her “It’s ok to try things. It’s ok to be bad at things. ” The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best time is today. (This blog is an exercise in doing things poorly rather than not at all!)
I try to extend that same compassion to myself now. Yes, my first attempts at making a version of an 18th century dress will be embarrassing. The process will be frustrating. It will, probably, not live up to what I have in my head. But also… if I never try, I never have the opportunity to get better. And while it may be a sloppy mess compared to someone who got their masters’ in historical textiles and does this professionally, my friends and family will still be really impressed. And, hopefully, I’ll have a thing I am delighted to wear.
But, to return to the original topic, I’m trying to find the lines in this exploration of others’ content, and not being discouraged by it. It seems like most studies about mental health and social media show that if you are using it to connect to people, it boosts mental health. If you are using it to compare yourself to people, it is detrimental.
So where are the lines there? I’m using Instagram more. I want to see Cool Stuff, so I want to follow people doing Cool Stuff. How do you consume that content without feeling inadequate? I know, I know, “Never compare your behind-the-scenes documentary with someone else’s highlight reel,” but that is something that I find hard to live in practice.
Notebook 