Admiration is the daughter of ignorance.

She looks like the kind of person who would get a blister after vacuuming the  entire house.

If you don’t believe me, take a look at these photos.  My fingers are itching to run over the sweaters and I’m slowing growing more and more self-aware of how dinky my sweater collection — really it’s embarrassing considering the amount of snow that I’m exposed to in these blistery cold months.  Her boots are a painful reminder that my current leather boots are several years old, covered in more salt than an Auntie Anne’s pretzel, and are peeling away from the soles.  And I’m already drooling over that delectable cheese plate (and pomegranate seeds?! such a good pairing!) even though I’m still full from lunch.

Yet the fact remains that she lives in Rhode Island and was probably born into all that money. I am neither of those things. In fact, the only fair isle sweater I own is from Target (college budget, remember?).

In reality, she may actually be a bitter, stagnant person who’s self-validation comes from the amount of visitors on her fancy-schmancy blog. Or she may truly be a lovely person who happens to have all the money she needs to enjoy her travels and expand her love for Tory Burch. I’ve commented before that I have a tendency to get attached to bloggers simply because birds of a feather flock together — even though I know absolutely nothing about them.

I want parts of her life. Not everything, but maybe a sweater or two. I wouldn’t call it jealously or envy or bitterness about my own things. I like my own things! Those crusty leather boots have walked several miles with me and lasted my entire college career so far — my shoe size may not have changed but I did a lot of growing in those three years that I am proud of. The proper words would probably go something like this: I am inspired by her lifestyle and I admire her fashion sense.

And just to reiterate the fact that I’m trying to be realistic and realize that I won’t be able to afford any of this for a long time, we may be nothing alike at all (despite the secret wish I have to be friends with her).

But I can still give myself a blister after vacuuming the whole house. Close enough, right?

All photos were taken from and photo credits go to Sarah Vickers.