Instagram, the photo-sharing app, has been blamed for many current etiquette solecisms, the foremost of which are the narcissism and selfie-consciousness. But it's also becoming a furnace for entrepreneurs with the energy to document their minute-by-minute taste revelations.
Even those fantastically of-the-moment fashion bloggers of just a few years ago now seem like gentle sloths compared with the 24/7 postings of the Instagram street styler. So effective is Instagram at selling merchandise (as favoured and liked by its followers) that one digital media consultant recently told me many bloggers are more or less abandoning their websites in favour of the even-more-immediate and lucrative gratification of their Instagram accounts.
Those who do it "best" are paid by brands each time they post a picture of themselves wearing certain pieces on Instagram.
Nothing wrong with that, per se - it's good ol' entrepreneurialism in action. For the intrepid and photogenic, setting up an Instagram account, which costs nothing and takes under five minutes, is probably a far more democratic path to fashion fame than the old way of waiting to be scouted by a model agent, the chances of which, if you happened to live on the outskirts of Bullabulling, Western Australia, were usually quite slim.
The only shadow cast on this shining tale of communal sharing is the slight opaqueness about what is a genuine recommendation and what has been paid for. While most readers understand the artificial context that exists within the pages of a magazine (or, for that matter, in the glossy newspaper supplements), relatively few understand the business arrangements between some of Instagram's most prolific posters and the products they promote. Unlike magazines, whose circulations are increasingly dwarfed by the number of people following the biggest names on Instagram, Instagram exists within a halo of authenticity. The perception that it's a platform for "real" folk posting "real" pictures of themselves in "real" situations is still widespread.
In addition to the obfuscation about what are sincere raves, and what are, in effect, advertorials, all this posting is having a strange effect on fashion, not least because Instagram makes it look as though all the crazy stuff that used to be just for the catwalks is actually being worn. Consequently, a new kind of normality is emerging - one where, on Instagram at least, "real" women prance down picturesque cobbled streets in 10cm heels and statement silhouettes or painstakingly co-ordinate their trousers and shoes every morning with their floortiles.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy Instagram as much as the next procrastinator. At its best, it's a window on the fabulous taste and wittily offbeat views of people you might never meet (or want to, for that matter).
It has also become a terrific leveller - its stars aren't necessarily classically pretty and they're by no means all under 30. Arguably, Instagram culture may even have encouraged the current crop of age-diverse advertising campaigns.
So, lots to enjoy. But do hang on to your most vital accessory when you visit - your skepticism. Because if you've looked at any of the "street" style pictures that flood Instagram and wondered what planet those perma-biscuity-coloured, climate-denying, skimpily dressed even-in-snow, show ponies inhabit, the answer is, not this one.
