When I was in my junior year of high school I started panicking about picking a course to take up in college. I've always had crazy dreams as a kid. I started off wanting to be a fashion designer / singer but after realizing I had no talent for drawing, I decided I should just be an actress who gets to wear great clothes. When I found out about the existence of stylists, I dropped my acting dream like it was an optional Trigonometry class. I've always loved writing and I've gotten a lot of encouragement and affirmation over the years. It was early in high school that I got the idea of getting into fashion journalism and by my senior year I was dead set on pursuing it. I was 16 when I made the decision of going into Literature and then going to fashion school after graduating with a degree. Obviously, I haven't quite gotten to the graduating part, but I'm already doubting if I chose the right path. It's not because my passion for either writing or fashion has waned, because it certainly has not. I'm just very scared and very worried. I think it goes without saying that breaking into the fashion industry is tough (understatement of the year). I fear that I'm going to end up becoming a starving artist and I know far too well that what might seem cool in movies are usually pretty shitty in real life (I think I'll be more focused on making a can of sardines last for a whole day than planning a La Vie Boheme musical number on table top). It's pretty early on in my higher education plan and I think if I wanted to, I could still steer away from what could be either a trainwreck or the reason for me to live.
A year ago I was discussing writing with two of my friends, the smartest people my age that I've met, and they told me of how they would never want to write for a magazine, because they did not want to have to cater to the masees. I guess that's one of the things I'd have to deal with if I ever do become a writer. Let's say I start off in a Philippine fashion magazine. Can you imagine the compromise I'd have to do just so the public can "appreciate" my work? And isn't that just a writer's nightmare, to sell out? Plus the pay would be terrible. I'll write about thousand dollar ripped t-shirts and get paid a few hundred an article. Oh, the irony!
I still sometimes like to be idealistic. I imagine myself actually being able to do what I love my way. Maybe I'll get to be one of my heroes like Cathy Horyn or Suzy Menkes or Robin Givhan. But most likely, I'll end up teaching English at your local private school and asking myself why I continue to exist. Let's pray that I get lucky.
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