redheaded schoolchild

  I am going back to school. I don’t know when I’ll finish. By the normal four-year trajectory, spring 2015 was supposed to be my last semester, and I’ve only (barely) got junior standing. If I get my diploma before I’m 25, I’ll count myself lucky. My family doesn’t do normal, though. My mother just…

it fucking snowed

  I took half of these photos in front of my apartment while Josh revved the metaphorical engine at me, and the other half once we arrived at his parents’ house in Connecticut. I’m sure I’ll rue these words in a few months when my pipes burst and I’m hauling firewood at 2 am, but…

unbearable pinkness of being

Here are some facts about my weekend: I saw Carbon Leaf at Higher Ground Ballroom for the fifth time. They played literally everything and it was amazing, and the lead guitarist signed my arm. However, Choosing Carbon Leaf meant I had to miss the fairy-tale cabaret, at which I later learned there had been a…

velma as fuck

Josh got me this dress from Rusty Zipper Vintage for Christmas last year, but I don’t think I’ve ever worn it on the blog. It has always been, and will always be, my Velma dress. Not that Velma Dinkley herself has ever worn any such thing, but I prefer conceptual costumes to literal ones anyway….

the worst pies in london

Okay, so. So. Let me first stipulate that I’m not in love with how these photos turned out. I’d meant to do a full kitchen/razor/rolling-pin thing, but the walls in my kitchen capture light in a grainy way that gives photos that “taken with a webcam” look. The outdoor ones turned out fine, but they…

the outrage machine

I have two things to say today. One is that Green Mountain Cabaret’s fairy-tale burlesque coincides with the ONLY night my favorite band is in town. I’d been looking forward to both events for months, and now I want to break things. I ultimately picked Carbon Leaf – they come to Burlington about once a…

and now for something completely different

First of all, let’s address the fact that my bag looks like a giant drooling face. Okay? It’s out of my system now, so we can all move on. It was gonna haunt me. Second of all, I’ve gone, once again, full society dame. From twee to sinister to eccentric matron. Such is the circle…

full of grace

Sometimes you get all dressed up for a creepy doll shoot, realize you’re actually a really fucked up madonna, and wonder what Freud would think of that. Trick question: it doesn’t matter because he’s dead and he was a hack anyway. In these shots, Holly and I are the quintessential dark mothers. The black goats…

the patchwork girl

…wherein I complete my transformation into a living, breathing, creeping doll. That might be the best way to articulate my style, I think: I dress like a doll. Sometimes played straight for maximum cuteness, other times subverted and turned just a little unsettling. Dolls will fuck you up, especially vaguely Ozian ones. I really enjoy presenting…

dame in plaid

It’s just a basic day dress, your average McCardell-esque cotton shirtwaist, but this dress always feels ineffably fancy to me. There’s something so elegant in the soft swingy folds. I feel like a working-class wife dolling up her children for Sunday service: practical but far from plain. Forget aprons and rolled-up sleeves. The order of…

fever dream

I’m sick. Like, fever-dreams-&-blurry-vision sick. I’m getting a strep test in an hour, but thank Loaf for these photos I took last week and put away for a day like this. I knew I would get sick after the last run of shows; I always do. Cast parties are basically germ orgies. (And also regular…

mad as a hattrix

Sooo…I didn’t actually get to wear this anywhere. I’ve done five nights of shows and I still have one left; partying is just about the last thing I want to do. But I had to put this costume together to feel like I was doing something Halloweeny for myself, not just for the ravenous public….