alice right behind you

I’m sick. I don’t have much to say. I’ll let these speak for themselves. If nothing else, I can always fall back on spooky-cute.

decadent decades

Josh and I turned ourselves up to 11 for Green Mountain Cabaret’s ’50s-themed show last Saturday. I did my usual pinup thing. Nothing too new to see here, except this godforsaken dress I picked up at Junktiques for EIGHT DOLLARS. One would assume Hell Bunny or ModCloth. Nope, just my neighborhood junk shop. God I…

not your manic pixie

My friend Bee calls it “millennial androphilia”. You might know it by that name, or by another, or by the subtle understanding that you are probably not taken seriously. It’s in every article about how boys really want “guys’ girls” and how we should leave heavy makeup to the high-drama whores. Have you ever noticed…

vengeance: the repinkening

I feel more like me than I have in months. Pink is my natural hair color. I feel like a rockabilly Cruella de Bright. I just love pulling a dress from a pile or rack and seeing that good ol’ “ILGWU” stamp on it. The International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union operated from 1900 to 1995….

i missed it so much

Black hair made a nice disguise. It swaddled and coddled me through a harsh winter. But pink is who I am. I had promised myself I’d refrain from bleaching until I got a professional’s eye on my technique. Last night, though, I got sick of waiting. Maybe drugstore dyes will fry my hair, but going…


These photos feel like old Polaroids unearthed in some withered granny’s attic. Her youth came tumbling forth in tandem with modish darlings and the British invasion. She didn’t escape Burlington’s pseudo-suburbia very often. Still, she followed the ebb and flow of style, ¬†hoping for somewhere to wear her bright new shinies. The epitome of “all…

la fae verte

tethered in the balance of sea and sky of awake and merely alive quietly gestate your world. pare down elysium and tartaros: breathe your sooty asphodel into a humble human whole. traverse creation like an insect, carrying discernment in the pads of your feet and map a tiny galaxy beneath the skin of every world.

pearls before swine

  Can we talk about what a bombshell I feel like? I can practically hear the records scratching and spinning while some Hollywood rogue dips me at the waist. He ignores the rip in the fabric of the universe my time-traveling has created; I ignore the fact that he’s probably a figment of my imagination….

skye, liberated

  You know how every inch of melted snow can feel like one step closer to liberation? You know that one pivotal morning, sometime between calendar spring and the first actual blooms, when you wake up and fully feel what you’ve shucked off? The morning when the distance between you and seasonal affective disorder is…

it was a bridesmaid’s dress

Free porn, you guys! The first prize for Green Mountain Cabaret‘s cult classics costume contest was the¬†critically acclaimed Dickin’ Around, brought to us by the producers of Cumming of Age and A Barely Legal Christmas. Who, other than pun fetishists, actually gets off on this stuff? This past Saturday, Josh was slaughtered on GMC’s stage….