I “found” Erena on Instagram (@erenatepaa) by accident, but her reputation preceded her, and I knew who she was. Her hubby worked closely with friends of mine, and I’d flipped through the pages of one of those home magazines and seen her beautiful home and gorgeous baby bump.
Social media is a funny thing, and at times you feel like you’re peering into someone’s personal life with much more intensity than you should. Erena and Joe lost baby Penny at full term, and holy heck my heart broke for them.
Erena wrote about her grief – something that takes incredible courage, and the support that she received was heart-warming. She was a style queen before she became a mum and I watched via the squares as she slowly but surely found her feet again.
Then there came the announcement that had her Instafriends crying happy tears (it wasn’t just me, right?) and six months later there was baby Costa. See what I mean about being way too invested in someone else’s life?
I saw Erena for the first time in real life in October at the opening of Royal Laboratorie in Riverbank Lane. She’s got an aura that warms the room, she’s quietly beautiful, and shines with an internal strength that only some people will recognise.
I looked at her from the front, and from the side, and even (in a non-creepy way) from behind. She was wearing this killer jumpsuit and I had outfit envy. This is the part where I should say, “so we chatted, and we laughed, and we sipped our bubbles and ate our clean desserts and then we booked in a catch up”.
That didn’t happen. I was just the creepy, weird girl who watched her from afar and couldn’t find the guts to strike up a convo, then she was gone but there was no glass slipper…
The story doesn’t end there though, I stalked her on Insta and confessed that I’m a weirdo, and she was OK with it, and then she agreed to let me share one of her blog posts, because I love it! We all want to be more “stylish”, but I just never know where to start. This post gives you some really (really) simple tips, and I’m gonna let you all know that I went all out one day and cuffed my jeans AND rolled my sleeves. Hold. Me. Back.
Here’s to celebrating women out loud instead of creepily watching them from the shadows.