Holly and I are kittening at the Vermont Burlesque Festival in T minus two days. Eep! We get red carpet photos and invitations to the performers’ brunch, which makes me die a little – I get to munch waffles and mimosas with real live performers? People who do this for a living, not a lark? I can’t wait.
The kittens’ colors are navy, purple, gold, and orange. I’m more than a little frustrated that I can’t default to red polka dots, but I do appreciate the opportunity to branch out. Here’s a preview of my Thursday night costume: moon goddess.
I may be just as insufferable as I was last year, but dammit, I think I produced some pretty good art in 2014. If 2013 was the year I “actually took on some semblance of a recognizable style“, then 2014 was about figuring out how to work my goddamn camera.
These are my favorite posts of the year. This isn’t just a “hey give me a lots of clicks” attention grab; I have slightly more integrity than that. I just really enjoy seeing where I am artistically. And, y’know, getting lots of clicks. I’m only human.
bloody snow & my tacky manifesto
garden of earthly delights & something is terribly wrong with the princess
loonette’s heyday & girl on the burning tightrope
my precious & by the sea (mr. t)
steam for a day & curvy girls with floral curls
curious little beastie & decadent decades
mad as a hattrix & rockabilly religion major
the traveling yellow skirt freak show & the other holy grail
For the past few winters, I’ve been grasping at the “effortlessly toasty” aesthetic, rife with peacoats and Christmas choirs and suspiciously absent the slightest hint of a runny nose. You know what I mean. Let’s pretend our hems never drag and our gloves never soak through, even in the tyranny of a Vermont winter. More importantly, let’s not pretend we don’t curate our lives. I’ve been hearing a lot about how presenting only the bits you choose to share is somehow disingenuous, how the needy public is somehow owed the admission of private pains and flaws. A lot of bloggers seem to wonder if they’re “faking” by only displaying their most polished selves, by not sharing unflattering outtakes and two-a.m. pajama-clad selfies. If that’s faking, then I’d rather not be real. Who decided that anyone gets to ask for more than what I’m willing to give you? Keeping part of my life for myself alone preserves my sanity.
You’ll get some pretty pictures today, of course, but that little screed has been on my mind for a good while now. Yes, what I share here is real, but it’s augmented. It has to be – what art is any good 100% raw? I’m honored to have such a platform for my work, I really am. But at the end of the day, I don’t think any creator can afford not to distinguish between spectators and friends.
I’m not as unfriendly as I sound, I swear. Really, it just comes down to one more reason why I love clothes so much. I get to display exactly what, and how much of it, I want. I get to speak clearly without opening a vein.
And today I’m speaking “inner child snowed awake”.
I’m really enjoying feeling like an overly starched storybook schoolgirl. Cliche can be a lot of fun to mine.
Coat: Josh’s Dress & Sweater: Classy Closet Belt: Downtown Threads Boots: Battery Street Jeans Hat: Old Gold Tights: Gifted