I swear to all the gods on this dress, not taking rockabilly pictures the day after getting inked must violate some kind of fashion-blogger dictum. Far be it from me to cross the men (and women) upstairs (and down). And the light in my apartment was celestially perfect today. How could I be anything but a big ol’ inked-up ham?
As of yesterday, my passion for performance is forever inscribed on my body. It’s my third tattoo, and my most elaborate to date. Body art feels so, so right. Few things make me feel more empowered than customizing my skin and hair and face, bringing the surface in line with the soul. One day I will be a flabby old woman with her life story writ round her hips and up her spine, and I couldn’t be happier at the thought.
And this dress. My word, this dress. It’s been months since I’ve purchased something decidedly not vintage, but Hell Bunny is persuasion enough. (True to my slow-fashion leanings, however, I did purchase it from a locally owned store.) I was swept away by this piece’s tackiness. What self-respecting religion major wouldn’t want the Blessed Virgin and Baron Samedi palling around on her breasts? I realize I run the risk of blasphemy here, and I truly hope my gesture isn’t interpreted as disrespect. In my opinion, it’s a testament to the timelessness of these symbols that we in the 21st century can choose how to honor them. No need to confine our reverence to frescoes and chapel walls. I can incorporate the divine into something I love – dresses! – and I don’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with that. If you’re going to be spiritual, why not ingrain it into your life?
Dress & Necklace: Old Gold Blazer, Belt, & Tights: Goodwill Hat & Shoes: Gifted
