I’m not even an anime chick, but I totally felt the quirky!magical!girl! thing in this outfit. Which I liked so much I ended up wearing three days last week. Maybe my #magicalpower is perpetually fresh armpits. Either way, I will always love appliqued novelty sweaters. I want one for every holiday, and that includes the summer ones.
- I’m living for the song “Take Me to Church” by Hozier. I usually do my best not to link videos everyone has seen ad nauseam already, but this one is worth abandoning my principles for.
- I’ve also been listening to Gaelic Storm’s Chicken Boxer album on consistent repeat for the past eight days.
- I submitted to two literary contests today. One short story and one poem. This is my dream, the teleology of my entire life, and I don’t want to defer it any longer.
- I updated my ModelMayhem account. Someone on tumblr made a terrible joke about a girl named Gloria with a cool car (“sick transit, Gloria Mundi”), and now I want to do an old-fashioned rockabilly hot rod shoot just to invoke it.
- I tried horchata this weekend and now I never want to drink anything else ever again.
- I made a really bitchin’ fondue.
- Every time I make one of these lists, a disproportionate number of bullets end up being about food.
Sometimes you’re killing time at Old Gold before work and you decide, because you’re an incorrigible masochist, that trying on the fit-and-flare with the Peter Pan collar might be a good idea. It’s just for fun, you keep lecturing yourself, knowing full well that the purse strings are already loosening.
And then you pay up front and walk out wearing the dress, because sometimes good vintage is a matter of imprinting, really. Would you abandon a duckling that decided to make you its mama?
This dress is my Christmas present to myself. (If you follow my Facebook, you’ll notice that I also received a 40-legged stuffed caterpillar as long as I am tall and that it is the light of my life. I am a simple creature, driven by good vintage and weird garish novelties.)
I’m becoming unbearably preppy. Suddenly red plaid is all I crave. Sometimes I worry that I’m losing my costumey edge, but then I remember that everything is a costume. Deliberate or not, if it affects social perception, if it carries any kind of connotations at all, then it’s a costume. Getting dressed is fun on an artistic level – colors and textures and cuts, oh boy! – but also on a sociological one. What does this piece say, why does it say that, and what other statements might you be able to wring from it? Red plaid, for instance, screams Christmas – but why? It’s kind of thrilling to be able to bypass people’s logical minds entirely and hit them right in the associations. They’ll identify my outfit as “Christmas-y”, but flounder to explain why exactly that is. I’m not claiming that I know, either, but I know what the connotations are and how to play with them. Tell me that’s not at least a little bit magical.
I took these photos in my dad’s Kung Fu studio. I’ve always appreciated how the bay window looks out on a miniature panorama of seasonal variety. It’s especially interesting in the winter, when the valley below is icy and stark, but the plants inside stay green. I enjoyed playing with that contrast for this shoot.
This outfit looks very much like something Marlen of Messages on a Napkin would wear.
Oh, and I made my first Etsy sale yesterday! This vintage Lanz of Salzburg dress. Here’s hoping it starts a trend!
Skirt (worn as strapless dress): Battery Street Jeans Top, Vest, Tights, Socks, Hat, Scarf, Shoes: Gifted Coat: Second Time Around
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
New items in the shop! As usual, click each image to visit its shop listing.
I mentioned this in the last post, but I’ve got a new page for y’all to subscribe to: my modeling persona, Gloria Mundi. I’m trying to reinvent myself as an explicitly pagan model. I’m still interested in other genres too, of course (who could ever turn down a pinup shoot?), but I’d like to start from a pagan place and occasionally branch out. Gone are my days of taking every job I was offered. I think I have enough experience now to be more selective. I’ve started actually curating my ModelMayhem page, rather than posting shots from every single shoot. I’ve always believe that modeling is an art, and a respectable one, and I ought to start presenting it that way.
I leave you with two Dressember ootds!
Say what you will about the dogma behind it – I really $&*$ love Christmas. No matter what you believe, having a huge-ass celebration during the darkest time of the year can’t not be good for you. The ancient pagans knew what’s up. Crit-failing at serotonin production? Make your own, via light-up trees and garish sweaters.
My ugliest sweater, worn with unironic pride.
Fortunately, I don’t have to rely overmuch on color lately. My life is knit with other joys. It’s been over six months since I left college, and I’m actually starting to make something of myself. I’ve settled into my “jill of all trades” status, and I’m seeing success on a few different fronts. My Prague Revue column is up and humming along. My poem “wherein we luminesce” is currently enjoying the front page of Cowbird. Later this month, my short story “How to Leave a Cult” will be published on elephantjournal.com. And I spent much of today revamping my Model Mayhem account and creating a Facebook page for my modeling persona, now known as Gloria Mundi. There’s so much in my head – so many dark, glitzy, gritty nascent explosions – and I need as many media as I can possibly find.
Also, I would like to start going to church. Any church – I’m not married to any dogma or other. I just enjoy being in the presence of people who believe in something with their whole selves. I guess I’m religious by proxy. I’m drawn to all faiths, regardless of my personal opinions on their doctrine. I’m not in school anymore, but I loved being a religion major, and I’d like to carry that into my post-college life.
And I’m doing it all while dressed like a goddamn sideshow act.
Dress: Old Gold Hat & Sweater: Gifted Coat: Savers Belt & Tights: Goodwill Shoes: Danform Pin: Battery Street Jeans
Remember when I posted OotDs almost on the daily? Over the year and a half I’ve run this blog, I’ve phased out of straight-up outfit posts. Those certainly have a place, but photography and scenic design have started to interest me nearly as much as fashion does. I want to use clothes to portray something, not just show them off for showing off’s sake. I’d rather do more creative shoots less frequently. Mirror shots are seriously overplayed.
But…they’re a godsend when it’s too cold and dark to take any real photos but you desperately want to stay relevant. I’ve been taking two-second snapshots in the mirror at work to document my Dressember process. I’ll run it through again: I’m wearing dresses every day for a month to promote the International Justice Mission’s campaign against human trafficking (and please consider donating if you can spare a few). And today I thought I’d commemorate what I wore this week.
Also, I figure it’s nice to give a look at what I actually wear day-to-day once in a while. I’m not always quite as ostentatious on a daily basis as I am in some of my shoots. I post when I have something special to show, and though I like all these outfits, I’m not sure that any of ’em would normally make the blog.
Tuesday, doing my ice-princess thing:
Sweater: Replays Dress & Hat: Old Gold Tights: Goodwill Belt: Battery Street Jeans Shoes & Scarf: Gifted
Wednesday, a premature Valentine:
Dress: Old Gold Sweater: Classy Closet Belt: Downtown Threads Tights: Goodwill Brooch: Battery Street Jeans Hat & Shoes: Gifted
Thursday, channeling warmer days:
Dress & Belt: Battery Street Jeans Coat: Handed down from Mom Hat: Old Gold Tights: Goodwill Shoes: Gifted
And Friday, hoping to scare up some snow by going full elf.
Dress: Classy Closet Peacoat: Second Time Around Tights: Spirit Halloween Belt: Savers Necklace: Old Gold Hat & Shoes: Gifted
I’ve been unbearably prim of late. I can feel my wannabe-Suicide-Girl cred eroding, replaced with pleats and starch. I’ve returned to a phase I first wrote about last April: tightly controlled, highly stylized. More than that, though, I like being utterly badass while I’m doing it. I’ll always be a Suicide Girl on the inside. I can dress like a secretary and still crack a few metaphorical whips.
I envisioned some of these shots in a dementedly chipper kind of way. Like I’m patting my bottle-blonde hair and presenting Bob Barker with the very latest in offensive technology. This might be a fun character to come back to.
My father teaches Kung Fu. He opened his studio when I was eighteen months old, and I grew up surrounded by deadly weapons. I revisited it last week for these photos. Who says precious isn’t powerful?
Dress & Sweater: Classy Closet Hat & Necklace: Old Gold Belt: Downtown Threads Tights: Spirit Halloween Shoes: Gifted
Let me remind everyone that it’s not too late to enter the Eye Bleach Sweepstakes! Send a photo of your creepiest doll to firstname.lastname@example.org for a chance at fame and fortune (i.e. $25 to my Etsy shop).
On Saturday night, during the season’s first real snow and attendant howling winds, Josh and I stayed in and played a ferocious game of Scrabble. On Sunday, as we drove home listening to Carmina Burana after hitting an antique store and wandering the Shelburne Museum, I came to the realization that my mental age is about seventy-five. Yes, I also go to goth clubs and aspire to ink every inch of my skin, but I really do revel in the antiquated. Old things have a magic embedded in them that the novel just can’t touch. Like Jung’s collective unconscious, manifest in cloth and grain. Do you ever look at a fin-de-siecle chair and think how many people have died in this?
We are the result of a million generations’ blood, sweat, and tears. The least we can do is pay a little homage. So I took these photos in one of my most natural habitats: surrounded by cross-century absurdities.
The Shelburne Museum evolved from the personal collection of Electra Havemeyer Webb, noted nominally-endowed eccentric. She had an eye for absurdity that I can only hope to emulate one day. This photo wall shows her in private life. I like the juxtaposition: me with my whimsical forebear.
Teapots and hatboxes (dot tumblr dot com).
Dress: Classy Closet Coat: Second Time Around Belt: Downtown Threads Tights: Gifted Boots: Handed down from Mom Socks & Scarf: Gifted
A storm was stirring around me as I took these photos. I decided to work with, not against, the wind. Being outside in gales and gusts always makes me feel even more a witch, like maybe my energy will turn indistinguishable from the maelstrom beyond. And maybe I’ll be really lucky and not get a house dropped on me. When the wind lifts my hair and hands, I like to pretend I’m summoning it myself.
This outfit makes me feel like a vagabond. Like a delightful louche. Like a creaky soul who can’t wait to be old. Like the girl who sings along with her accordion on Church Street. Like someone with magic hidden in all her corners.
My kind of witchcraft is about communion. The alchemy of connection. Interaction with other people, with oneself, with philosophy, with the natural world. It’s the “je ne sais quoi” produced when beings collide. And that means it can be everywhere. I don’t need a church or a coven (as much as I love them). Just to listen. To find magic everywhere.
Dress: The Classy Closet Coat: Handed down from Mom Vest & Boots: Battery Street Jeans Hat & Necklace: Old Gold Tights: Gifted