i’m not terribly good at these things right off.

in my other life, as not germane to this particular blog, i do a lot of coding, soothe troubled shopping carts, grid design, smack around various searchengines, and ride scooters.

this is my crafting, collecting, and random pretty things blog. i’ve been collecting various bits of victoriana since 1989, and sewing it since something like 1980, when i designed my first 1860’s gown (fortunately i have long outgrown my 1860’s fetish). unfortunately, one’s mother wouldn’t let her wear a corset, or black for that matter; so one has only been corset-training since age nineteen.

my smallest current corset is sixteen inches closed. it’s made of patent leather. not pvc. dark garden custom-made it for me, as they make all my trainers.

i know an absurd amount about nineteenth-century historical costume. i also know a fair amount about most other eras up to the 1960s.

i heartily despise leg-o-mutton sleeves. and those ridiculous ornaments Low Countries ladies wore on their heads in the mid-late seventeenth century. also, anyone who claims to know All There Is To Know about the language of fans, the language of flowers, or the nomenclature of cosmetic facial patches. if you’re one of those, go ahead and fuck right off; there ain’t nothin’ here that’s goin’ to amuse you or cater to your delusions, either. (i should also mention that i put the punk in anachropunk. ) i’m also not a huge fan of jane austen, although the brontës are all right.

i’m not one of these people who think everything has to be authentic or period. i do a lot of fantasy stuff. but i’m not really into any of the major fandoms, like star wars, or buffy, or what-have-you. i don’t read a lot of fiction. most of the fiction i do read is alt-history, or urban fantasy. i have no compunction about implementing whatever concept i feel like i want to use, whereever it might come from. like most punks, i reject musical guilt altogether, and i don’t seem to have any costuming guilt either, although i don’t think i’d ever steal an ensemble outright. i usually don’t need to, anyway. my vision tends to be one only i can really see, for better or worse. usually it’s a little bit jaundiced. there’s a little mardi gras in there, because i grew up doing it every year. there’s a little bit of the badlands. there’s a little of the city of Nonesuch and points relative in the dreamtime.
and there’s usually a lot of storyville. a thin layer of gritty tinkling piano and velvet thrown over a platform of dust and grasping viciousness and squalor. ah, storyville. i remember it well.

i like chatelaines, mourning wear and accessories, fans, etiquette guides, cage crinolines, tea gowns, aigrettes, buttonhooks, longstripe stockings, anything reasonably authentically period, taxidermy, ballet, general steampunk and neovictorian stuffs, opera, gothic americana, shapeshifters, Whitby jet, passementerie, Gorey, Beardsley, boys in eyeliner, gaiters and high heels, absinthe, laudanum, madness, Bellocq, urchin slang, and homicide. in no particular order. and that’s just a random sampling.

stick around. you’ll see.


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