Mr Fletche and I visited Cotswold Lavender Farm at the weekend, and we watched in amusement as visitors (and yes, they were mainly female) posed between the lavender bushes – lying down, sitting, standing, jumping – in carefully planned outfits to complement the light purple hues around them. Two girls pranced around in delicate lace dresses, before bundling up in raincoats (summer in England always necessitates bringing a pac-a-mac). One woman carefully removed her white jacket before replacing it with a red cardigan. And there were all sorts of floppy hats in abundance.
Me: “If we come back here next year, I’m going to wear a flowery dress, big floppy hat and frolic among the flowers”
Mr Fletche: “You don’t own a flowery dress. Or a big floppy hat. And I’ve definitely never see you frolic among the flowers before”
And this, dear readers, is why I will never be a true Instagram travel blogger. I just don’t have the right kit. Other than not owning a floppy hat or flowery dress, here are 10 others reasons I will never be an Instagram Influencer:
Picture Source: Pixabay
I have never done yoga in public. I certainly couldn’t pull off a convincing downwards dog in a bikini on a cliff overlooking an aquamarine sea
My nails are never perfectly manicured enough for that “holding up a gelato in front a famous landmark” shot. Or that “clinking glasses in a perfect setting” shot. Or that “holding a polaroid photo in front of the place that you actually are” shot.
I’m not good at wistfully looking off into the distance
That ruby red glass of wine on a balcony overlooking the Tuscan countryside? I’ve half drank it. Those perfect little canapes? Eaten them.
Those back of head shots always reveal that one wavy patch of hair that I can’t straighten without arms like Stretch Armstrong.
I have never had breakfast served on a silver tray, with an expensive bottle of champagne and a single red rose in a crystal vase. And my sheets are certainly not pristine white and uncreased after a night spent sleeping like a starfish and wrapping myself up in the duvet like a sausage roll.
I have never felt the urge to do a cartwheel. Not since I was about 8 years old, the last time my noodle arms would support my body weight.
Swimming pools are for swimming, or for hanging onto the edge with a mojito in easy reach. They are not for giant flamingo or unicorn lilos.
I have never paddled a kayak into the middle of a big lake. Or pitched a tent on the edge of a precipice. Or owned a battered but cute camper van. Or jumped off a cliff into the sea
I see no appeal in taking a photo of my feet. Not on a pretty tiled floor. Not on a beach. Not dangling from a hammock. Ditto my legs in a classic “hot dog legs” pose. Unless hot dogs are white and slightly pimply.
Picture Source: Pixabay
Which of these Instagram cliches drive you mad? And more to the point – which ones are you guilty of? Feel free to check out my Instagram Page here and call me out if I am acting like an Insta-Diva 🙂