Things That Instagram Need To Change

Delayed Deletion
So, there you are, all set to post. You've got your killer shot, you've filtered the hell out of it, you've chosen fifteen excellent and highly pertinent tags and finally, then you can hit share. But. Oh. Bollocking. Hell. You hate the picture. It looks wrong. Too dark. Not cool enough. And you want it gone. Like, now. Does Instagram allow you to end your misery promptly and efficiently? Does it balls. No. You've deleted, but Someone Up There In Silcone Valley wants to prolong your agony. They like you to suffer the embarrassment of thousands of people seeing an in-limbo-not-likeable image just sitting there, mockingly, for what seems like hours. How difficult would it be for them to make deletion instant? Not very, I'd wager.
It is everywhere on IG. Absolutely fucking everywhere. Under every tag, even the most seemingly innocuous. And I do not want to see it. At all. Ever. Please someone take it away FFS. I can't imagine what it's doing to children's little brains. (Hashtag: Won'tSomebodyThinkOfTheChildren). And does it ever piss me off when I go on, say, the Adidas Originals tag and I see my sneakers next to a pair of Russian boobs. I imagine there's some sort of hit squad at IG HQ deleting porn as fast as it appears, but, basically, they're just not doing it quick enough. Increase your hit squad, pleeeeeze.
Blurred Lines
I've mentioned this before, and to a few gal-papls on IG as well, but it seriously grinds my gears. Essentially, you can have a perfectly sharp image that you've posted, only to then have it become catastrophically blurred. Sometimes after two minutes, sometimes after two hours, but eventually all images on Instagram seem to become hazy and rubbish. And I've got 16 million pixies in my camera! Why does this need to happen? I reckon it doesn't.
Hacked Off
Hacking seems to be happening increasingly on IG, particularly to 'big' accounts. Your usually once serene, minimalist fashion blogger all of a sudden starts randomly holding iPhone giveaway competitions, and often loads of followers seem to fall for it. Or they have a brand new whizz-bang emoji keyboard they want you to download. It must be awful for the girls trying to wrestle their accounts back from the hackers clutches. If that happened to me I wouldn't have a clue where to start. Again, please pretty please get on IG.
What irritates you about Instagram company policy? Lemmie know x 
PS Check out my MNZ Robertas!! Not really (obvs), they're just the Mango dupes, but aren't they sick? I must stop buying granny shoes (but I can't). PPS Thank-you to Look magazine who put my granny-shoed feet on Page 24 of last week's issue. Seeing them there was a very weird experience fo' shure.
Jeans- Topshop//Jumper- Zara//Shoes- Mango



Oh You Pretty Thing

I once asked my Dad whether he was a Mod or a Rocker in the 60s. He just laughed and replied "Both". They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and accordingly, I'm just as much of a style schitz as he ever was. I may like to think I'm a minimalist, a tomboy, a lover of all things pared-down and sparse. But am I really that Scandi? I have to confess to loving pretty things just as much. Soaring Gianvito Rossi heels, Dolce & Gabbana decorative maximalism and Prada colour-clashing all press my fashion-buttons. So, when bralettes started springing up all over Instagram I felt myself falling. I was searching hither and thither for one that was less than twenty quid (or thereabouts), when I stumbled upon Isabel Works. The style I went for is the highly seductive ''Fringed Bralette", which is so delicate it actually has a tie-back. And when I saw the packaging I was smitten too- it has utilitarianism and more than a hint of lavishness- all rolled into one. So, thank-you Isabel for fulfilling my style schizophrenia in one fell swoop, and thank-you Dad for making me a very confused version of you : ) Are you jumping on the bralette hype? Do you yo-yo sartorially on the regz like me? Tell all chicas x
Bralette- Isabel Works//Jumper- H&M



Why My Phone Has Changed My Life

For the last two years I've been locked into a bitch of a phone contract and the most horrifically appalling handset ever known to humankind- the iPhone4s. Not that I'm one to exaggerate or anything (lolz) but every day was like a techno-battle to get the little bugger to do anything useful at all. In no particular order it: drained down quicker than karma, hit storage approximately 10 days after I got it, froze on the regz (mostly when I had to make or take a crucial call) and basically annoyed the beejeezus out of me all the freakin' time. Now I know most "normal" people would prioritise buying a new phone over a new handbag, but there was no way I was splashing my PPI money on something useful :) As luck would have it my sister's boyfriend hooked me up and I'm now in the iPhone6 game. Yes, it fell off the back of a lorry, yes it's second-hand, but Holy Phoneballs am I happy. Let's look at all the lovely things I can now do:
Have Apps
Yes! Actual apps! The ones that everyone else has! I'm finally getting to see what VSCO is all about (although I heard that they've changed their grid-thingy so you can't preview your Gram, which was actually what I most psyched about jumping on).
Get A Cab
Back to apps again. I've got Uber now. Look at me, Little Miss Twenty First Century.
Take Photos
Lots of them! I'd actually forgotten what it's like to be able to take a pic anytime I want to. In fact, I've been become so used to having no storage that my skillz are #bare and I don't actually need 50 attempts to get something half-human. #justcallmeoneshotwonder
Not Have To Delete All My Mail
My 4s also got me into the deletion habit (probably not a bad one to have picked up as it goes) but I can let those spammy bits rest a while longer now.
Transfer Stuff Wirelessly
Ever since I got an Olympus Pen I've been desperate to get the accompanying app and send my little snaps over to my camera roll and save endless hours uploading. After a couple of false starts I've actually managed to make this happen. (For someone as un-techie as me, this is quite a thing).
Join Tinder
Just kidding. As if. That is the last thing I'mma do. I know what I like, and it's not on there (without me even ever having looked at it. Unless someone can tell me if they have rudeboys, ruffnecks and hoodrats on there at all, at all?).
Get A New Phone Case
The stars have deffo collided in the last week, as the lovely Emma from Richmond & Finch fortuitously contacted me and asked me if I had an iPhone6 in my life. Funnily enough, yes, yes I have. And before too long this beautiful case was also in my life and on my phone. It feels so nice- substantial, grippy- and it doesn't put my teeth on edge (like so many cases do). Plus, it looks well chic
So, in summary- yes- my iPhone6 is making my life way more pleasant than before. I actually feel quite liberated. Now all I need is a new laptop......x
Waffle Knit- Gap//Skinny Rib- Gap//Cup- Design Letters
*Watch- Klarf//*Phone Case- Richmond & Finch



Confessions Of A Shopaholic

For as long as I can remember I've been obsessed with handbags. My first ever grown-up purchase was a Prada square from Joseph. I still clearly recall the buzz of strutting into Condé Nast (where I was working at the time) carrying my new purchase, feeling like the cat's pyjamas. (And yes, The Devil Really Did Wear Prada. Trusstttttt. She liked a lot of Ralph Lauren too. Anyway). Fast forward to 2016 and sadly, bag purchasing now requires a lot more thought and lot less whim. Last year I treated myself to a Céline, and this year I've also ordered a mini-bucket from Mansur Gavriel (which won't arrive til February or March); so another new baby to add to my collection was the last thing on my mind when I was browsing Net-A-Porter a few days ago. But. There it was. In stock. An APC Demi-Lune. I've been chasing this beauté for quite some time and it's pretty much never available. When the Euro was a bit higher last summer I tried to buy one from France, but to no avail. So when I spied it I knew I had to act quick. And the very next day I happily found myself in the Half-Moon club. I'm as broke AF but I freakin' J'adore it. Are you weak like me? Feel free to confess all, you're amongst friends :)
Bag- A.P.C.



My Weird Week On Instagram

Despite having been on Instagram for nearly two years now, I still have no freaking clue how the place actually works. Whilst I've finally figured out to edit my captions (Yay! Fat Fingers Be Gone!), I still don't understand how hashtagless pictures ever get seen. Or why certain Dutch girls think it's okay to follow and unfollow you four times in as many months (babe, I've clocked you, srsly just piss off ). The struggle has been #long and #real to get any kind of momentum going for my lil' old account, but last week, outta nowhere things finally seemed to be starting to happen.
The Power Of The Pink Bag
First up, I posted a pic of my beloved Acne carrier bag. This thing seems to basically act as #gramnip for IGers. I'd like to say I don't know why- but it is an object of desire and it is a thing of beauty- so we don't need to really linger too long as to why peeps go cray for it. But 800 likes cray? It seemed insanely disproportionate to me, but the followers also came along with the likes- so I wasn't gonna argue.
Smug Face
And then the followers- shockingly- kept coming. Ain't gonna lie, on a regular IG day I'll maybe get 10 followers at best, and probably lose 5 along the way. I realise these numbers are embarrassingly impoverished and that even Danielle Bernstein's dog gets more love than that. Way more love. But strange things were afoot. I was getting 40, 50 even- gasp- 60 followers a day. So, although I'm an atheist I kept thanking God periodically just so he knew how grateful I was. This quite amazing deluge happened errryday for four whole days.
The Crash
And then reality bit back. I think it was a pic of some Converse that started my downward spiral- which is weird coz Chucks tend to do okay in my experience. It even got a 'good' amount of likes. But no, the haemorrhage had started and my stress returned to accompany it. Why had I gotten some momentum? And why had it fallen away again? Like I said, IG is utterly unfathomable to me. Even what happened next couldn't stem the flow.
Topshop Girl In A Topshop World
So, on Friday evening I threw on a snap of me sitting on the floor in a Fila sweatshirt and some frayed jeans. (I say threw- my "effortless" photo took two hours of blood sweat and tears). Coz I don't shoot outside anymore and coz my face is a bit like Quasimodo's on a good day this is how picture-taking now rolls for me: I have to spend large amounts of daylight hours sitting on my arse, with my camera balanced on a Nike box, running back into frame (once I've triggered the self-timer and dangled an object in front of the lens for it to focus on), trying desperately to keep my head out of shot whilst attempting to look thin, cool, relaxed and a bit like 'Oh me? Just sitting here casually on the floor again'. I was reticent to put the final 'masterpiece' on IG because, well, I basically feel like that about every pic I take for there. So I crossed myself (the more atheist I feel the more religious I act, go figure) about 18 times and waited for it to bomb. I normally log off once I've shared a piccie as I can't bear to see how unpopular I am, which I duly did. But for some reason I logged on again about 15 minutes later and saw that I had a tag. OMG- could it be ASOS? (About a year ago I got one single solitary like from them and it got me- wait for this- 300 followers). But no, it wasn't them. It was something that I don't think most bloggers ever even dare dream of- it was- drumroll- an RG from Topshop.
The Party Was Short, But Funny
At first I was like, WTF. Then I was like, "LIFE MADE!!!!!". I once read that a regram from ASOS gets you approximately 1000 followers, so I calculated that Topshop having 6 million followers (and ASOS having 3 million) should, in theory, have garnered me more than that. My maths is shit, but the hope was very real. Once again I logged off with a spring in my step and a sunny disposition so rare that my family were suspicious. I knew it though. Only me, with my impeccable Reverse Midas Touch could fuck this up. Who gets a shout-out to 6 million people and "only" gets 250 followers? (For that was my tally). This chica, that's who. I'd like to think that it was the Granny shoes what did it. Most of the girls commenting under my pic seemed to be utterly repulsed by them, and kept calling them 'cabin shoes', and doing Crying-Laughing Emojis. So I can only assume Toppers has a helluva lot of air hostesses following their account. But actually I don't mind a bit that those girls hated them, in fact, I quite enjoyed that aspect of the whole thing. And before you characterise me as some ungrateful ho' who needs to stop number-crunching and chill the fuck out and get things into perspective a bit more (hearin' you btw), I was actually beyond buzzed that someone at Toppers HQ liked what I'm doing. That is deffo more important than putting on shit-loads of followers. To the point that I'd actually like it carved on my gravestone. ("Here Lies Belle, She Was Once Regrammed By Topshop You Know"). But still it niggles. And so does the girl who posts the dullest cycle of "Quote/Food/Converse/Selfie/Quote/Food/Converse/Selfie" on her IG- in some kind of never-ending mouse-wheel nightmare, but has now got 11k. Or that the girl who posts once a week (if that) is the new owner of a Triangl (yes, I'm still going on about that). Or that Auld Muddy Face just breathes in and gets 5k likes per pic. It niggles like hell. And it ain't going away. I'll leave you with Gore Vidal. "Every time one of my friends succeeds, something inside me dies". Amen bro. Amen.
Shoes- Topshop//Jeans- Topshop//Jumper- Zara

© Honey Belle. All rights reserved.