Substack's Biggest Loser

I'll never make it in the fashion world, sweetie!

I was let go from my first and last “real” job in the fashion industry in the fall of 2024, over the phone on Rosh Hashannah (both my former boss and I are Jewish, lol). I had spent two years as a glorified Substack ghostwriter, getting paid $12k a year to bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars (according to my calculations, I was pointedly not allowed to see any numbers) in affiliate revenue. I once mustered up my courage and requested 10% commission solely on the specific links I’d written about and was chastised and served veiled threats for daring to even ask. When I asked why I was being let go and if there were anything I could do better in future positions, I was told no, that the publication was simply going in a different direction and that I’d been a great employee. A few months later, I emailed and texted my ex-boss multiple times asking for tax documents that never came. It was as if I’d never worked the job, which ended up working out for me because I was then so deeply unemployed that if I’d had to file my 1099, I would have been in big trouble come April 15.

I was so unemployed, in fact, that another big Substacker called me up to interview me about my bleak, jobless life for an article in a big-name publication. I opened up to her about how much I’d struggled, the odd and unsettling treatment I’d received from my ex-boss, and how fearful I was for the future. Before the article was even published, this writer had gone on to fill my old position at the publication I used to work for. I guess the “different direction” was “someone with more Instagram followers.”

Since then, I’ve freelanced for multiple other Substack writers* (who generally acted like “allowing” me to write for them was doing me a huge favor), two of whom unceremoniously and completely ghosted me after repeatedly praising my work, which I agreed to allow them to take credit for because I didn’t know how else I could pay my bills. And I did (do) have bills, some from medical situations but most because, during the first few years of the pandemic, I spent compulsively and irresponsibly on clothing in an attempt to be able to create the kind of content I saw performing well on Substack: try-ons, outfit compositions, real-life reviews. I loathed the idea of shilling products I’d never tried out myself. I felt myself growing completely detached from the reality of physical garments, especially after having attended one (1) single “brand dinner” (which my ex-boss called me about twenty minutes prior to see if I could replace her as she had a last-minute engagement) and receiving hundreds of dollars worth of clothes and food and realizing that there was truly no way I could ever even hope to make a dent in fashion writing with the following and finances I had/have.

*It should be noted that Corinne Fay and Articles Of Interest are the effervescent exceptions to this non-ideal treatment, both have buoyed and inspired me over the years with their incredible generosity, gorgeous attitudes, and brilliant minds and I will write for/with them until the world explodes.

Ten years ago, an idiotic Halloween costume I wore went mega-viral and I garnered 20k+ followers in a matter of days, numbers that barely mean anything in 2026 but carried a good amount of cache in 2016. I made the most of the account, memeing in the belligerent, misguided feminist tradition of the times, posting semi-nudes covering my intimates with Maggie Nelson and Anne Carson tomes (I was 18, guys). I deleted the account permanently a year later because I could feel that it was making me bad in ways I couldn’t even fully comprehend but knew I had to avoid. On the train, I’d make eye contact with someone and become convinced they knew who I was, then chastise myself for feeling so important, then receive a DM 30 minutes later: “Hey, this is creepy, but I think I just saw you at Hoyt-Schermerhorn…” It was an ego yo-yo, and it was genuinely startling how many of the “friends” I had suspiciously acquired in the literal weeks following my ridiculous ascent completely dropped me the instant I pulled the plug on that account.

I made a decision that I was proud of at the time, but now, getting let go for no apparent reason from a $12k a year position to be replaced by someone with more followers than I have, watching people pick up brand deals with the ease of choosing grocery items, getting flown out for events and wined and dined after gifting suites, I suppose I made a grave error. I wish I could sell out now, and I’ve kind of tried, but every time I do, I feel sticky and stupid and gross and baldly pathetic—the only thing I really had to my name was a wimpy shred of authenticity, and I guess that’s not worth much anymore, even to myself.

I have recently completed some freelance copywriting projects I’m proud of, but it’s not enough to pay my bills. I don’t know where next month’s rent is coming from. I was let go from a service job two days after Christmas and haven’t been able to get another one because the PDX economy is so devastating right now. My paid subscriptions are dropping like flies and I do not blame them because I simply cannot muster interesting enough fashion content right now—how could I give a shit about Tibi’s SS26 or Ilia skin tint when I am just barely staving off thoughts of my imminent doom? I borrowed money from Stripe to help with a recent, necessary move and with these subscriber changes, I won’t be able to pay that off, adding to the drove of debt collectors that call me so many times a day I have my phone permanently silenced. I know so many other people are in similar situations, but no one ever writes about it publicly because it’s so embarrassing and pathetic and icky both to share and to hear. I don’t begrudge anyone who didn’t read this—it is, by all accounts, a sob story, and I have never done anything like this before because I’m acutely aware of how unflattering and impotent it is. I don’t expect anything to come of this post, I just wanted to get it off my chest—if I really am Substack’s biggest loser, then at least I’ve achieved something unique in my life!

If you do want to hire me for copy or editorial writing jobs, lol, some samples are here, my CV is here, and you can reach me at emseely@gmail.com.

I hope everyone has a wonderful day and no one loses hope.

<3 ESK