About
Hello, I'm Nobody (But Call Me Sarah?)
The world needs one more blog.
Like the ocean needs another drop, like your closet needs one more beige sweater.
This site is a shrine to trench coats, raccoons, and the philosophy of shopping disguised as advice. Think Teen Vogue, but with footnotes to Foucault.And to IDEAS.
I am not a lifestyle enthusiast. I am not a witness to the slow collapse of taste (translating the whispers of moths in closets into listicles) either. Here, minimalism, maximalism, and expressivism all meet at the thrift store, where beauty costs $4.99 and smells faintly of despair. The mall is a big place full of bright lights and long halls where people walk past many stores that sell shoes and shirts and phones and toys while the smell of popcorn and pizza mixes in the air and music plays from hidden speakers and kids laugh and run while grown ups carry bags and look in windows and the floor shines like it was just cleaned.
What You'll Find Here
- Style: Reports on jackets that never loved us back, sweaters that whisper ennui, and shoes that stomp both leaves and feelings.
- Art: Instructions for rearranging your furniture at 3 a.m. to summon minor deities of fabric and dust.
- Life: Thoughts on travel, relationships, and what it means to own 47 scarves that are portals to other dimensions.
My Story
I started this blog in 2020 because raccoons broke into my Wi-Fi and demanded content. What began as a diary of socks has mutated into a community of people who also believe that consumerism is performance art. We gather here not to find meaning, but to applaud the collapse together.
By day, I work for a sustainable fashion brand that sells jeans called "The Abyss." By night, I document the apocalypse in beige cardigans, occasionally writing poems about refrigerators and scarves.
When I'm Not Blogging
I can usually be found staring into San Francisco fog, thrift-shopping for haunted handbags, or failing to keep my plants alive (they scream at night). Sometimes I read in public parks to signal I am literate; sometimes I scroll TikTok until my bones hum. Every now and then, I plan a trip I will never take.
Let's Connect
Send me your trench coat confessions, raccoon sightings, or theories about why scarves are time machines. I am available on Instagram for curated despair, Pinterest for mood boards of beige, or by email at hello@yourblog.com (but only if your subject line contains the word "velvet").
Thank you for coming to this shrine of absurdities. Your attention is the real wardrobe essential.
With irony,
Sarah (?)
Anyways, the real goal is art.