exhilaration in a vintage slip

flapper IV

Usually I heavily side-eye anyone who claims to have been “born in the wrong era”. I’m guessing you’d rather have marriage equality and women in the workplace than even the poufiest New Look dress. Historical revisionism grinds my gears. “Back in the day” – no, stahp, humans have always been incomprehensibly cruel to one another, and all June Cleaver aesthetics did was hide it a little better than we’re used to. I try to acknowledge that what I’m borrowing from the past isn’t the end-all of history. At the end of the day, I would rather be a 21st-century woman in a vintage dress than sit around barefoot and pregnant.

That said, I love love LOVE flapper culture. Not in the way that screams “I’ve gravely misinterpreted The Great Gatsby“. But as a woman in 2014, I enjoy a university education, an apartment in my own name, and a self-determined love life. I’m accustomed to such things, as well I should be. Imagine, though, being alive and in one’s prime when all those things were new. Imagine the exhilaration of being the first woman in town to do something as seemingly ordinary as cut her hair short. To dare admit she liked drinking, dancing, and sex. Try and feel that exhilaration of growing up Edwardian-prim and emerging as New Woman incarnate, flouting what generations of mothers had taught. I have the utmost respect for the women who manifested who they wanted to be long before today’s “love thyself” psychobabble. My inner flapper tells me to get up and do. To indulge in this twisted world before me.

My love for the aesthetic is just icing.

The character I’m playing in these shots is nursing the bubble of excitement in her gut before a night on the town. Where the gin is cold but the piano’s hot…

flapper III

 

In other news, I shot these with my Canon PowerShot’s Tungsten exposure, and I’m thrilled with the chilly, blue-dense look.

 

flapper II

 

flapper IX

 

flapper I

 

flapper V

 

flapper X

 

flapper XIII

 

flapper VI

 

flapper VII

 

flapper XI

flap flap

bright XI

Chopped off my hairs. I feel like Louise Brooks. I actually went full flapper for my NYE outfit – slip, sequined sweater, cupid’s-bow lips. (Sadly, the light was all wrong for photos.) At heart, I’m roaring right along with the infamous ’20s. I may indulge in other eras, but I am such a goddamn flapper. And I find it really interesting how fashion echoes itself. The fiercely mod 60s definitely channels flapper culture in its own way. There’s a certain hedonism. A lushness – or loucheness, depending who you ask. A picture of bright, swinging womanhood.

bright I

For my first outfit post of the new year (and the first in my new apartment!), I married the 20s and the 60s into one electrified union.

bright II

bright IV

bright XIII

bright X

bright V

bright III

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Blouse & Necklace: Old Gold Skirt: Savers Tights & Crinolines: Spirit Halloween Glasses: Zenni Optical

bright VII

room

I just moved into a new (and much nicer; let’s be real) apartment. I’ll be posting a room tour as soon as I can! Check back.