At the core of this difficulty lies the fact that I am blatantly indecisive which can be quite the issue when handed a domain with a blank slate. In saying so, you can imagine how dazed I was when I learned that there are thousands of WordPress templates and plug-ins. The Virgo in me had to get going.

The Process

Initially, I thought that having some experience in design and content creating could serve me well. (To lay down some context, I spent the first half of 2019 working as a junior communications officer.) Yet, I struggled to find my vision. In the past, though I had copious amounts of freedom to release the kind of content that I would be interested in engaging with, I still had guidelines to work within; fonts and colour schemes that I had to gravitate towards to comply with the brand’s aesthetic. But, what exactly was my aesthetic? Yes, I too am still in disbelief that these are the kind of questions that run through my mind these days. 

So, to prevent myself from being further overwhelmed by all of these choices that I had to make, I went back to the only place I thought fitting, the drawing board. Or the mood board, rather. 

Getting the Look

Although I didn’t exactly know what I wanted structurally for my blog, I knew what sorts of visuals that I was drawn to. As you can see from the images below, I kinda have a thing for earthy pastels.

In hindsight, what we’re working with now doesn’t exactly emanate what I had originally envisioned, but I can sleep easy.

When it came to deciding how the site would be navigated, after playing around with (too many) different columns, I finally decided to go with a scattered look with no columns at all. Classic me. Now that I’ve gotten accustomed to it, I think it’s rather fitting—matches my headspace. It also serves a purpose as well, as, in theory, my posts don’t need to be read in a certain order. Readers can just browse and see if a certain post/mood grabs them by the feels. 

The Final Cut

At the end of the day, I just wanted to create a space that was inviting, visually appealing, and most of all, made you feel like this:

So there you have it folks—the makings of Moods & Mixtapes.

Pre-Interaction Insight

I wholeheartedly agree with Hamblin that our behaviour changes when we’re around the familiar; when we’re around people that we know. But this observation raises a variety of questions. What constitutes a stranger? When exactly do you know someone?

As a kid, I used to think that anyone I didn’t remember meeting was a stranger. Simple. But now that I’m older, I’ve seen friends turn into strangers, so what good is that definition? Sorry, didn’t mean to get that deep. So to prevent any further rambling, let’s just say that knowing someone—surpassing stranger status—entails knowing their name and being able to say five things about them. 

Stranger danger?

Stranger encounters are always, well, strange. I enjoy being in my bubble when I’m on my daily commute, so I didn’t think that bursting somebody else’s would result in a fruitful conversation. Long story short, this is how I ended up trying to get non-regular customers at work to talk to me about more than just their order.

As it turns out, offering someone baked goods (I work at a bakery, I’m not a creep) is the gateway to a million kinds of conversations. Weekend plans, family drama, children’s allergies. And although I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know my customers, it wasn’t always easy. For instance, how personal is too personal? What are the boundaries of our conversation? Not to forget, how do you end things? “Okay, bye…” is too brash, but “See you!”, is too friendly and implies another meeting in the future. In hindsight, I suppose the latter would have still been appropriate since I was at work, but much like this post, the question of how to say farewell is still up in the air.