Over cocktails last week, Amanda, who works for Independent Fashion Bloggers, convinced Usha and me to volunteer at the IFB Conference. She didn't have to twist our arms too hard - did you see the lineup of panelists? Yesterday I arrived at Milk Studios by 7:30 AM with only the bare minimum of essentials in my (ancient) orange patent clutch. Because I'm not a fashion blogger, I didn't pressure myself to wear my most fabulous outfit or my highest heels. (Nothing to see here, just lil ol' me in Target jeans and a five dollar top!) Eleven hours on my feet later, my trusty leopard wedges - chosen for comfort - were no longer bearable.
From left to right: me, Usha, Taylor, and Crissie watching from the sidelines. Photo by Marielle Sales.
I met some wonderful fellow bloggers, but because I haven't yet embraced the day's oft-repeated mantra ("brand yourself!"), I didn't have a business card to exchange with them. (Perhaps I should finally take the plunge toward legitimizing this endeavor I embarked upon over two years ago?)
When I got home last night, I peeked at the day's tweets labeled with the #IFBcon hashtag and was struck by how many people wished they had been able to attend. It was a powerful reminder that I'm incredibly fortunate to live in my favorite city, a place where so many others dream of one day visiting.