we smell like metal and sweat and smoke

making out in the cemetery with a fever that only teenage boys can muster

bumping knees, leather catching, buckles grinding

you said you like when u can see my veins

and i liked u even better when u said that

i try to roughen up my softness

get harder around the edges

to start trying to be the weapon

but it seems i like looking down the barrel of

dead ends even when i know i’m the

one wanting to hold the gun

i’m a backyard dog sniffing you out

knowing what to ruin

to play destroyer for a day

but i promise ill bring it to your doorstep

licked straight to the bone

salt crystallizes and grinds against my canines

nothing is sugarcoated anymore

when i’m exhausted from asking and for wanting

like im winning at losing time

but i’ve should’ve learned by now that that’s

just the way that it goes when there’s

nothing to prove, no answer, no final truth

to sink my teeth into

i can’t help looking

fingering crevices in the dark hoping to find

a resolution to the battles i made hungry and alone

searching digging praying

will it always feel like this?

You know that scene in ‘‘Bound’’ when Violet and Corky are making out in Corky’s red pickup and there’s no dialogue… just the sound of them kissing and vinyl leather seats crinkling against their leather jackets? That’s how I would describe the epitome of lesbianism. The film’s neo-noir themes seep through power roles and control with a tongue-in-cheek attitude that aligns almost exactly with that of the queer leather community, in both kink and lifestyle values. Depending on who you ask, leather maintains a strong presence in gay and lesbian communities, and has for many decades. Some point to it originating with the ‘leathermen’, a subculture of gay men most popularized in San Francisco and New York who brung heterosexual BDSM practices into a queer light. However, it was the dykes that bridged the gap between kink and fashion to create an entirely new counterculture of queer-centered feminist sexual liberation — dubbing themselves the leatherdykes.

The leather fad was born in San Francisco in the 1950s during a time when motorcycle gangs gathered in throngs in the streets, creating seas of provocative noise in their studded leather armor. Motorcycle clubs, the most renowned being Hell’s Angels, tore through San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury and Mission districts that were, at the time, most populated with hippies. In an almost bikers versus surfers manner, it seems that in the 1960s in San Francisco you were either a hippie or a biker, two parties that couldn’t be more polar opposites but still riding for essentially the same movements.

In the hippie 60s post-war era, to be a biker was to be a rebel. To look tough on your own accord in clothing that was the antithesis of a soldier’s uniform was like saying a big ‘‘fuck you’’ to all pure and classic American ideals. An article by Underground states, ‘‘After World War II, returning soldiers were met with an unexpected influx of military gear, leather jackets, boots, and caps—that found its way into army surplus stores. These stores became a treasure trove for young men, particularly those who felt disconnected from the post-war optimism of mainstream America. It’s hard not to imagine the allure of these leather items, what once symbolized duty and discipline was now repurposed by a generation that felt left behind. Veterans, in particular, struggled to re-assimilate into a world that had moved on without them, finding in motorcycle culture a kind of salvation, a space where they could reclaim their identities and escape the expectations placed upon them.’’

Why Not, the first leather bar in San Francisco, opened in 1962 by owner Tony Taverossi and an article by Out claims the bar’s main patrons were ‘‘a clientele fresh from the rough, hierarchical, all-male world of the military.’’ The bar unfortunately closed after only six months, but its legacy lived on in a new generation of ‘‘rough trade bars’’ which began to pop up along the South of Market district. Leather shops followed in suit, offering both apparel and fetish wear handcrafted from the iconic durable material.

A very critical piece of queer liberation was built on the backs of these leathermen who were unafraid to look tough and love hard. A city always has their resident ‘‘bad guys,’’ right? For gay men not to be singled out in an antagonizing community created a sanctuary of its own, participating in these ‘‘rebellious’’ activities where they could be perceived as a strong hypermasculine man first and a gay man second. Leather was simply just the armor that both enforced and protected their identities. Biker clubs also strongly enforced the idea of brotherhood. In a tumultuous time of political upheaval, these intimate relationships amongst hypermasculine men broke down barriers one leather jacket at a time.

But we’re talking about lesbians here.

Much less visible yet incredibly relevant and impactful all the same, lesbians and leather also go hand in hand. The lesbian S&M community didn’t gain traction until the 70s with the second wave feminist movement, with its roots also beginning in San Francisco.

Society of Janus, founded in 1975 by Cynthia Slater, remains an all-gender S&M support group that pushes for education surrounding topics on BDSM and kink culture. In 1978, the first independent lesbian group, Samois, was also founded in San Francisco. Atlas Oscura highlights, ‘‘In its first year, Samois published What Color Is Your Handkerchief, a booklet that explained the group’s philosophy and its fervent belief that lesbian SM was a feminist practice. Samois was a confrontational organization, and its disagreements with other feminist organizations—tracked by Warner—helped propel the discussion of SM, which pushed the practice into the national public eye.’’

I am not suggesting that we abandon our critical capacity or feminist politics, or that the personal is not political. On the contrary, I am proposing that a commitment to the notion that the personal is political requires a more complex political assessment of sexual diversity, based on case by case examinations. Both the mobilization of the sexual fringe, and the increasing politicization of sexuality, challenge feminism to develop a politics which can be pro-sex while remaining anti-sexist.
—Gayle Rubin, What Color Is Your Handkerchief, 1979

It’s time and time past for some angry, emotional words to be published in favor of SM by a Lesbian and a feminist. … After a while explanation begins to be an apology … And I don’t think that anyone should have to apologize for their sexuality. … I feel like I’ve been much more open when I look at views opposed to SM than most of the opposition has been. And, I’m tired of it. I don’t want to hear any more disguised puritanism or any more unreasoning fear parading as moral or political righteousness. … Anyone who starts stepping on our rights—be warned: you won’t get away with it.

—Janet Schrim, What Color Is Your Handkerchief, 1979

The Lesbian Sex Wars began when a divide in political beliefs created a big rift between the pro-sex feminists and the feminist anti-porn movement that was formed against S&M women. A historical article by The Exiles expressed, ‘‘The anti-porn movement, ‘did everything they could to keep SM Dykes out of their bookstores, conferences and meeting places’ [3]. Lesbian feminists thought s/m was akin to violence and battery against women, the result of unresolved sexual abuse issues, a disease, and even rape. In 1980, the National Organization of Women passed a resolution condemning s/m.’’ Samois and other radical queer sex-positive groups regularly challenged society’s disdain towards their so-called sadistic sexual practices, some individuals even going as far as to call these women Nazis. Despite it being the early days of a growing feminist movement, S&M women struggled to forge a safe space in the feminist community, the relationship between kink and gender rights not coming as easily as it did for their gay male counterparts.

Because of the censorship in public spaces, queer women who wished to participate in the S&M community relied heavily on word of mouth and paper ads to find each other. I did some digging and couldn’t find photos of many BDSM-specific personal ads but came across some freaky-adjacent quirky ads that I love.

Mr Leather was a competition, now multi-day convention, established in 1979 for gay men in the leather BDSM community after Chicago’s Gold Coast leather bar’s Mr. Gold Coast competition became larger than the small bar could support. Owner Chuck Renslow and his partner Dom Orejudos then dubbed the competition ‘‘International Mr Leather’’, though there was little expectation regarding the turnout. Word got out about ‘‘a weekend you won’t want to miss’’ with ‘‘some of the world's hottest men, representing leather bars and clubs across America and Europe’’ via flyers and promo materials that Renslow passed around and advertised in other leather bars around town. The winner of said competition could earn cash prizes or even a motorcycle on top of being named the International Mr Leather. The criteria in order to win you may ask? 20 finalists would line up in front of a panel of judges to be critiqued on 3 things:

1. Leather image (up to 40 points).

2. Presentation skills that include a contestant speech (up to 40 points).

3. Physical appearance (up to 20 points).

Ms Leather followed suit in 1981, and a local newspaper article flaunts, ‘‘the contest is a fundraiser for AIDS charities as well as being a first of its kind for women around the world to come together in celebration of a variety of leather lifestyles.’’ Again, there’s much less documented information regarding these competitions compared to Mr Leather, but GLBT seems to have a decent archive of local newspapers from this time that have more personal details regarding these leather events. Regardless, these events allowed for the communal understanding and celebration of leather BDSM gaining traction in society. The aforementioned newspaper article emphasizes, ‘‘Suddenly, Leatherwomen are in high profile, and this phenomenon is directly attributable to the forth-coming competition.’’ With third-wave feminism on the horizon, BDSM found a home amongst sex-positive, gender-inclusive, and intersectional beliefs, especially as alternative underground and punk scenes began to overlap.

Since then, the S&M leather community has blossomed into an international community that is both renowned and respected. Just like the classic material, the leather movements have withstood the test of time and continue to shape as well as challenge societal perspective on kink communities, BDSM practices, and sexual freedom.

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

A white-hot reminder. Something that was willing to force its way down my throat when I was trying to keep my mouth shut. ‘‘Erupcja’’ released at just the right time. Just like the seemingly coincidental volcanic eruptions that took place whenever the films two female characters collided, which could have no other reason than some kind of cosmic intervention, this film came out when I needed it most; I’m still left somewhat reeling afterward, wondering if this was my form of an unexplainable naturalistic force trying to tell me that I am actually moving in the right direction instead of backwards.

The film’s three key characters are Rob, Bethany, and Nel. Rob and Bethany. Bethany and Nel. Nel and Rob. Dynamics that work in tandem directly under all of their noses, interactions that will make you feel like this is a chaste parallel universe version of ‘‘Challengers.’’ Each character is presented for who they are at face value. Nel spends most of her time at a flower shop wishing she wasn’t stuck in a mundane routine; Rob is hopelessly devoted to his (almost) fiancée, Bethany, bleeding tenderness and intention into every interaction; Bethany finds herself unable to decide where to stay and where to go, itching to find an answer to her uncertainty surrounding Rob after finding the engagement ring a month prior. The couple trips to Warsaw, Poland, under Bethany’s insistence that this city is, in fact, more romantic than Paris, a disguised protest to her paranoia surrounding a possible engagement trip (proof that Rob really is Dream Boyfriend because literally who would believe a suburb in Poland is more romantic than the City of Love...)

We meet Nel first. She’s cutting stems and arranging floral bouquets in her flower shop while aiding an anxious boyfriend attempting to woo his girlfriend, foreshadowing Rob and Bethany’s imbalanced dynamic. When she steps out for a smoke break, her sister, Maja, approaches her to inform her of a chance encounter with a woman named Ula. Shots panning to text conversations on Nel’s phone and photos of them together framed in her apartment lead us to believe this is a possible lover of hers. This subplot of lesbianism fails to offer a lot in this film except for the small character arc that Nel experiences over the course of 71 minutes. However, it does provide some insight into who Nel is and further, how she functions as a romantic. Her character, set up as an anxious avoidant who is unsatisfied with her hand in life, appears to mirror Bethany’s own qualms after landing back in Warsaw for the first time since her and Mel’s last eruptive rendezvous several years prior.

Though her dry interactions with her eager boyfriend off the get-go fail to make a good first impression of her character, Bethany is impossible not to like. She’s not a character that shows up on screen and makes you instantly hate her, and maybe that’s the genius choice of casting Charli XCX to play someone so blasé. Bethany, clearly feeling cornered in a supposed engagement trip, is clinging on to the hope that by hunting Mel down she can trigger a volcanic eruption that will provide her with some sort of answer on what to do with her relationship. This ‘‘cosmic’’ intervention that the girls insist happens every time their paths cross does in fact occur: Mount Etna in Italy erupts as soon as Bethany and Rob land in Warsaw. This kicks off Bethany’s mental tailspin, flaking on a disappointed Rob with his carefully thought-out romantic itinerary to pursue Mel down street corners.

Rob is the one character who seems to be resistant to peeling back his layers. Despite him being the hopelessly romantic protagonist (possible antagonist depending on how you choose to view the story), he is the one in this film that we arguably get to know the least. His only motivation throughout the brief runtime is to solidify his love for Bethany by putting a ring on her finger. ‘‘Erupcja’’ never touches on his non-materialistic desires or motives, leaving the audience’s minds to fill in the gaps ourselves. Is he a loser boyfriend who is shamelessly putting his girlfriend on a pedestal? Is he actually too good for the girlfriend he yearns to have a future with? The distinct nuances of Nel, Beth, and Rob’s complex experiences are what make this film work so well. Indie Wire highlights, ‘‘‘Erupcja’ sustains that tension by adhering to a kind of semi-heightened non-logic, as in the very Rivette-like sequence where Bethany invisibly stalks Nel halfway across the city without being noticed. The film’s non-judgmental narration — read by Jacek Zubiel — comments on the characters’ innermost thoughts along the way, adding to the general patina of narcissism without pointing fingers or placing blame.’’

The film’s power lies beneath the surface. It’s underwhelming, until it isn’t. Just like Charli’s character Bethany, you don’t realize you are slowly being throttled towards an inevitable end until it’s already chewed you up and spit you out. Almost like … a volcano. It sounds cliché, yes, but I feel like this film will mean something different to each person who sees it. Because of it’s simplicity, it can shift and change form depending on the viewer’s preconceptions of love, life, and priorities. The set-up of three completely different characters all facing some form of impending emotional catastrophe creates an unfolding of a highly nuanced story. Nothing here is black and white. Instead, it’s an adrenaline-fueled trip straight through the ‘‘gray area’’ of each character’s life, the audience merely a fly on the wall across multiple Warsaw apartments. ‘‘Erupcja’’ is a snippet of memories and relationships that are so much deeper than are ever revealed over the course of the film, which allows for a lot of a nuance between the three key characters. Because we can only take Nel and Bethany’s friendship for what it is at face value, I feel that the message throughout the film is left in all things unsaid. Their actions as a chaotic duo, sprinting drunk down city streets and smoking in corners of clubs as strobe lights cast shadows on their cheeky grins, illustrate the girls’ desire to attain a thread of significance.

The film’s ending arrives not with a grand conclusion but instead a simple offering. Its message is straightforward: Sometimes what you thought was best for you has to ruin itself for you. Sometimes you might ruin it for yourself, but that is the only way you can realize what is and isn’t right for you. When the ghosts of your past force you to confront your contentment, it takes a lot of strength to let it all fall apart in order to put the pieces back together again. Variety shares the same sentiment, highlighting, ‘‘In incremental, imperceptible shifts, we’ve done a full 180 by the film’s generous ending, which is kind to everyone who deserves it and tough on those who don’t, while wisely nudging the rest of us away from the folly of pursuing some previous, nostalgized vacation-version of ourselves. That person belongs to a different time, to a different town and to people who cannot be expected to remain the same, any more than the slopes of a volcano can be expected to still be molten rock an eon after the last eruption.’’ In the end, Rob simply says that volcanoes erupt all the time. Around 50-70 erupt every year while the current number of active volcanoes exceeds 1,500. Mount Etna, in fact, is Europe’s most active stratovolcano in the world, so Bethany and Nel’s possible last eruption was really, just a coincidence. I think, regardless of where you are at in life, romantically, spiritually, career-wise, etc. this film has something good to offer everyone.

my cousin’s ultrasound on the screen

a small face so perfectly tangible

and i remember how bad i suddenly

wanted to have our own

to see your face reflected in something

perfectly delicate

to have and to hold

i never thought i could be so jealous

of the impossibility

or know that i could have such a change

of heart but it was so easy with you to want

building houses, dreams, pets, long days,

time to waste together

to wonder if i’ll ever feel that way again

i want it to stay stuck in time with you

tend to it, nurture it like you would

a real baby

you can name it, our perfect little mess

our own creature to preserve in the

coagulated warp of old memories

something to leave behind, a token of

appreciation to memorialize the fleeting love

i’ll protect it from the good and the bad,

maybe i was always meant to be a good mother

shield it under my wing against the wall of

new memories so nothing can interfere with

our sweet creation that existed so loudly

even for just a little while.

now i couldn’t tell you

it was fleeting just like everything else

but it taught me how to see

peer so deeply into myself that i don’t know

which way is up or down

to understand that these pieces can be

exposed to light in ways i never could’ve

understood before you

i took a bike today. there was no way to sit around and wait for everything to stop spilling out of me, so i paid $20 to hit a bunch of stones on an inch wide trail and hope i go flying. i rode it to a reservoir which wasn’t really a reservoir, but actually mile long stretches of gravestones. so many taller than me, older than me, stronger than me. my flickering shadow dancing on the pavement taunts me with the idea of being put in the ground. it feels like i’m already halfway there. i’ve got a shovel ready to hit the warm spring earth. i’d rush the process if i could.

at the end of each day, i dissect all the lessons i collected on the floor, hunched over and trying to spell out any sentence that makes sense. it feels like relearning a language, sounding out my cries to see how they taste on my tongue. it feels like i’ve been spun around with a blindfold on and told to walk straight. i’ll kneel on the floor til my knees are scar pink, carved into with the lines from the hard wood in my bedroom. my stomach is caving in to create the pew where i once was devout to you. but nobody can be made a saint when there’s nothing left to pray for.

i’d do it again and again until my ears rush with embarrassment and forgotten pride. i’ll take the bike down the same skinny paths cluttered with overgrown roots, watch the lingering gnats catch the light, stumble to find my way through one way traffic on a vehicle i feel i have no control over. i’d let the image of the black crow roadkill loop over and over in my head until i’ve exhausted every explanation.

just please don’t hit me with your car!

as the wheel turns, february brings hopefully more good than whatever january had to offer. the month of freezing gray and a dark apartment and small paychecks and worrying about paying rent and crying more than i think i’ve ever cried in my whole life and feeling just So exhausted. but what else is new!

hopefully a lot…

i’ve decided to write some sort of recap partly as a creative exercise for myself but mainly because i realized today marks the day (i started writing this on february 1st) i’ve officially been living in new york city for 6 months. half a year in a huge city, my first real ‘big’ move, thankfully not fully alone. so much has happened yet also not enough. maybe that’s just my inner nihilist/complainer but i’d like to relabel it as: Determination. comme ci, comme ça, i guess. i think the biggest thing i have learned from moving northeast for the first time is: you can take the girl out of florida, but you can’t take florida out of the girl! it baffles me how much i surprisingly miss that hot humid state full of old republicans, some scattered gay people, and gorgeous beaches (on the gulf coast at least). it’s honestly made me question what i sought from the northeast to begin with; as much as i hate the sticky hot mess that is florida, i find myself grasping on to the 21 years of memories i have of heat-soaked orange tinted days that fade into blue evenings spent with the car windows down (more on that later.)

either way, july 31st left me freshly 22 with one place to go: brooklyn, new york. almost a 26-hour drive in total, delirious with a restless cat on my lap, my college friend now roommate, and a 16-foot penske truck to drive all the way up the east coast, that birthday is definitely one to remember. at 6:30pm, we left the truck on the side of the road and ran up to our new apartment. i walked into my tiny room, let my cat out of his carrier, and called my mom crying. it was august 1st and i was finally in the exact place i wanted to be, but it all felt so confusing. wasn’t it supposed to just click? where did all the endless months of anticipation and excitement dissipate to? i had finally made the leap, but there was no net to catch me, just a one-year lease, a couple of thousand in savings, and pure hope, i guess.

my first month and a half in new york feels so cliché to me, in a weirdly good way. i had already been perusing new york hinge for the past month, scheming on who wanted to run around and go on fun dates with me while also just trying to make new queer friends. i ended up somehow uhaul-adjacent with someone that i had been texting with online for the last few weeks which ended abruptly after 2 weeks due to an incident involving fentanyl... i managed to get a shitty minimum wage at a taco truck ran by two millenial white guys, where the menu included three very white options: bacon egg and cheese, potato and egg, and plant chorizo. their drink menu was even more limited. they sold ‘‘coffee’’, which was made by mixing coffee syrup and water and pouring it into a cup of ice, and strawberry matcha (aka the only good thing on the menu for the cheap price of $8). the job was an hour commute in a stuffy 2x4 metal box on wheels with a man who was almost twice my age. he told me he used to own a python named Samantha and fed it a corgi he bought for $35.

i quit two weeks in.

nothing else notable happened. i went on some dates, drunkenly danced at some clubs, perused facebook marketplace for furniture like my life depended on it. for all of september, i was blissfully unemployed and hopelessly digging into my savings. i spent a lot of time lying under the bridge in dumbo and reading as well as walking to the park 10 minutes away from my apartment and lying on the grass and reading. lots of laying. lots of sleeping. i had begun to start talking to a mutual i had on tik tok for awhile, and it ended up being one of the best decisions i’ve ever made. things began to fan out before me and i started to finally feel like i had a sense of control, a sense of agency towards the directions i could go in this new city. i ended up landing a job at a cute european cafe which i still am employed at and have grown to like :) and my tik tok mutual visited me for a week after two weeks of talking (very lesbian i Know) and now we are two very happy mid-distance lesbians who are able to see each other every week and a half or so YIPEEEE!! lesbians rejoice!!!

even in november i was still wondering why i hadn’t felt fully acclimated to living here yet. i’ve learned now that the more i lean into it, it leans back into me. it certainly isn’t easy having most of my days/week taken up by working leaving me with not much time to spend on creative projects or hanging out with friends. i didn’t realize it fully but i place such high expectations on myself to be X amount of productive and social each day. for me, it’s hard to allow myself to relax without the pressing guilt of feeling like i’m being lazy. i think the city has taught me to accept the exhaustion as it comes. in a place where everyone is in a rush to get somewhere or do something, it feels like a peaceful protest to just sit still. i often have to remind myself that i am 22 and have all the time in the world. i didn’t realize how long it would take to adjust to a different city. the only ever big move i’ve made in my life was to go to college 4 hours north of my hometown. at the time it felt like a big leap but of course pales in comparison to this move. i’m eternally grateful to have moved up here with a small support system of fellow florida artist friends who also made the leap of faith to drop everything and attempt to make it in new york. i can’t imagine having gone through this process on my own. i’m strong but im not That strong…

now that i’ve FINALLY gotten settled, the times i have visited home felt like pressing on a bruise. it hurts to put pressure on it but i find some satisfaction in the pain. i enjoy having the things i didn’t like about florida being at arms length, but it also feels bittersweet to have the privilege to be able to do so. to now be a stranger to my home state. i wonder if everyone who’s moved away from home feels this way. they probably do. regardless, it doesn’t make leaving home and returning to new york easy.

i just came back recently from visiting florida to see my mom for her birthday and get a break from all the grey sleet. the ride home from the airport felt like a dream, the sun beginning to lower itself in the sky, streaming directly through my mom's car windshield. i was itching to get all the time in the sun as i could so i walked around the neighborhoods hidden behind my mom’s apartment that evening. sundown in florida has somehow always evoked a strange nostalgic feeling in me, regardless of my age, and i really don’t think i will ever be able to pinpoint exactly why. it was odd, i was dawdling through someone else’s ordinary quiet neighborhood and still, the neighbors i didn’t know nodded and waved at me from their manicured lawns. my suburban stomping grounds now felt like a scene frozen in time, where middle schoolers bike home in Hollister shirts and play outside with their neighbors until dinner. you can walk past houses and smell the type of laundry detergent they use, which wafts generously through their gaping garages which are almost always left open because here, everyone knows everyone. houses with windows so large they stretch to each corner of the house. everyone and their lives on full display. no insecurities, no secrets. colonial houses with grand front doors and porch screens. everyone has a pool, it’s newly renovated, probably some variant of spanish style, and cost as much as the house to renovate.

i realized that i don’t think new york city and florida are two sides of the same coin and instead, i am the coin and one side is new york city and the other is florida. once i was a girl who was only ever a voyeur in new york, and now i may only ever be a voyeur in the state i grew up in. it’s a disorienting feeling. i’ve never liked the feeling of temporariness or displacement, especially when it comes to moving. even now, it’s only february and i am stressing out about finding a new apartment to live in (my lease ends in july..). however, there’s a definitive privilege to it all and i certainly am grateful for the miraculous way that my cards and opportunities aligned. it’s invigorating to finally feel things fall into place while also feeling like it’s okay to let things take their time. i once saw a quote that said ‘‘make the jump and the net will appear for you’’ and i feel like that couldn’t be more applicable to the past year of my life. regardless of whatever point i will reach in my future, i will definitely look back on this specific time of my life with fervor because of all the ways i have surprised myself. who would have thought that risk comes with reward!

I never would have thought that the word monster and babygirl could be synonymous, let alone even be in the same sentence.

After Netflix’s adaptational release of Frankenstein, my social media became flooded with images of an unrecognizably mutated Jacob Elordi, a mosaic of pink and gray skin paired with snoopy and pink bows; the general public claiming a certain affinity to Frankenstein’s ‘‘babygirl’’-esque nature. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a classic monster had so quickly risen to a podium where you would expect to see real ‘‘babygirl’’ men, like Andrew Garfield and Pedro Pascal, who share characteristics that subvert traditional masculine ideals. Men who dare to show their ‘‘feminine’’ side, who appear soft and approachable rather than the macho hyper-masculine men we are so familiar with - how risqué!

Recently, I had caught up with my friend Ally at a bar, and more often than not, our conversations about our daily lives always end up circling back to horror movies. I mentioned how I had been mulling over the entire concept of male monsters and how they are marketed towards the female audience even though inherently, they do represent a very queer notion. Why do women seek romance with this obscure ‘‘Other’’ rather than an arguably normal human man? In this dimly lit bar off Broadway on a Saturday night, we continued to go back and forth about our realizations regarding this topic. Many movies and classic stories immediately sprung to our minds, such as ‘‘Beauty and the Beast’’, ‘‘The Shape of Water’’, and ‘‘Edward Scissorhands’’. All of these stories in which women, usually vulnerable yet curious, fall in love with a mutant despite the fact they live in primarily normal universes in which normal boys make normal efforts to sweep these women off their feet. For example, Gaston in ‘‘Beauty and the Beast’’ is the representation of everything masculine, his unwavering confidence oozes from his bulky muscles and straight-toothed smile. Further, a representation of everything women should want in a man, right? So why does Belle revel in disgust and instead, fall in love with a massive creature who shares more similarities with a dog than a man?

An excellent writer I follow on here, , recently published an article titled, ‘‘Nobody wants a monster girl’’, a think piece on why modern women are so attracted to the idea of a male monster, and further, the idea of fucking one. Of course, this idea is relatively impossible to put into fruition (because realistically where are you going to find a man who was made in a lab or a glowing green creature that surely cannot be from Earth?). In the rise of ‘‘roman-tasy’’ genres across literature and film, the archetype of a male monster has become popularized and more accessible to women across media formats. Sithara cites, ‘‘In A Craving for the Creature: A Study on Monster Fetishism and the Monstrosexual, Collin Andrews argues that women don’t fantasize about male monsters because they’re masculine but rather because they’re not men. Monsters are, by definition, the other. They, too, know what it’s like to be gawked at, objectified and misunderstood. Because he’s not human, your monster boyfriend is exempt from the patriarchal hierarchy. His power feels (super)natural, not political.’’ It’s another iteration of the “I can fix him!!” mentality. Though He is ‘exempt’ from the patriarchal hierarchy, we still attach this idea onto male monsters in which they are, at the end of the day, helpless, poor things that are in need of feminine nurture and guidance (maybe even tension and sex).

Now I want to prod at the idea of why women specifically take it on to feel maternal towards such monsters as Frankenstein, even relating to such a creature. As mentioned above, it makes sense as to why women seek something akin to refuge in these monster men because of the shared experience of disbelonging, persecution, and physical/emotional isolation.

Dare I bring Poor Things into the equation..

Here we have a distorted retelling of Frankenstein through a female perspective. But, of course, it only makes sense that a woman’s story involves spotlighting her sexual journey as a prostitute as the core motivator for the story, arguing that Bella Baxter is ‘‘exploring her sexuality’’ and ‘‘having sexual agency in her body’’ rather than emphasizing her disorienting dive into the deep-end of womanhood. I know a lot of people who liked this movie and I also know a lot of people who really hated this movie, including myself. What was allegedly meant to be a sex-positive film ends up reading as extremely tone-deaf and essentially a watered-down porno (and of course, this movie is made by a man). For example, Robert K Starr writes for Medium saying, “None of the men [in Poor Things] are shot with the kind of sexuality that Stone is. . . . Lanthimos may very well be trying to make a movie about female empowerment, but his horniness is getting in the way of his message.” The whole idea of a 'Frankenstein’ in this film is flipped on its back and warped into a nasty perverted misogynist dressed in feminist clothing. I personally think Poor Things IS Frankenstein’s own Frankenstein: a perverse and horribly transfigured distant relative to the original story. A relative that nobody wants to associate with in the family, that is.

To make a complete pivot, ‘‘Lisa Frankenstein’’ is an ode to all the neon 80s rom-coms akin to ‘‘Weird Science’’ and ‘‘Pretty in Pink” while also remaining reminiscent of Tim Burton’s iconic gothic style. What I find interesting about this film is Cole Sprouse’s Frankenstein, who A. can’t talk and B. is kept hidden in Lisa’s literal bedroom closet. Talk about metaphors!

Lisa is not his creator nor his destined One True Love, and is instead an almost matronly figure who ends up dismembering other boys in town and sewing their appendages in order for Frankenstein to be a functional boy. They also end up together, but in a cool suave ‘‘Bonnie and Clyde’’ way. To me, it didn’t seem like the plot revolved around the two’s connection and, rather, Lisa’s growing confidence in feeling isolated in her straight-laced hometown. The monster boyfriend was simply a bonus. I feel like their relationship teeters along the lines of girlfriend and boyfriend and mother and son. She teaches him how to be more ‘normal’, dresses him up, tends his wounds, it’s all very matronly. Frankenstein’s story itself is centered around birth, death, renewal, and man playing God with the common thread inherently being matronly affection, or the lack thereof. I think this idea can also be traced through other monster stories, such as the ones I mentioned previously. Belle tends to the Beast in very similar ways Lisa does, minus the murdering and DIY surgeries. Is it not a little odd that the same creatures they lovingly nurture like a mother would also end up as their boyfriends?

Honorable but still very relevant mention….MARTHA MAY WHOVIER AND THE GRINCH. She declined the mayor’s hand in marriage for the feared recluse who lives at the top of Mount Crumpit?? Interesting….

Some food for thought because while writing this I can’t seem to find any articles or papers on why women feel maternal towards monster men and why that is such a common trope amongst these monster stories. I could talk about this topic forever and really wish there were more sources regarding this topic but I would love to hear any thoughts or other resource suggestions :) Thank you as always for reading!

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The time has come again for me to write yet Another essay about my two favorite things ever: queerness and scary stuff. Last year, I wrote about the concept of ‘‘gay halloween’’ (which you can read here :P) and how the trends in the past few years for holiday costumes have mirrored the concept of drag.

This past October, I have been really pondering the connections between queerness and the inherent concept of haunting a space, being both the haunter and the haunted. Interestingly enough, I had never really considered the correlation between these two notions until I was introduced to Alison Bechdel’s graphic memoir ‘‘Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic’’ in my Women in Literature class in college. Fun Home follows Bechdel’s interpretation of the catalysts in her childhood that propelled her adolescent understanding of queerness and how that affected her relationship to her own lesbian identity later in life. One thing that really struck home for me (pun intended) was Bechdel’s turbulent relationship with her father. Bruce Bechdel was a polished man of taste who strove for utmost perfection in the families home as a way to disguise his own repressed queer identity. His hindered desires took the form of dark oak furniture, ornate wallpaper, and vintage lamps, using his ‘‘skillful artifice not to make things, but to make things appear to be what they were not’’ (Bechdel, page 16).

Their house was Victorian, which are a common symbol among pop culture known to represent secrecy and betrayal. The gaunt composition of this century old design began surfacing in suburban neighborhoods in the mid to late 1800s as the introduction of railroads created an increase in production and transportation speeds, allowing supplies to be mass produced and distributed across the country. As quickly as they rose to the favorited architectural style of the 18-1900s, the state of post WW1 America found these homes to reflect the dark, hollow, violence-ridden state of the country. An article by the Scientific American goes so far as to say, ‘‘The world had become a corrupt, dirty place, and Victorian-style houses were a physical manifestation of this stain; they represented the persistence of corruption and thoughtlessness that was thought to have originated in the Gilded Age. Where they were once a symbol of material wealth, these homes were now a weight on the progression of the American soul.’’ So of course, the Victorian architectural style has taken its rightful reign throughout pop culture as the haunted house, forever memorializing the ghosts of America’s nefarious casualties.

Needless to say, Bechdel’s book singlehandedly thrust me into a hyper-fixation regarding the idea of a ‘‘house’’ and how it has always and continues to clash with queer identity. The heterosexual structure of the traditional family house is the antithesis of the budding queer identity that is rejected a nurturing environment to flourish. Built into each home is a specific sector for which the mind is allowed limited occupancy: the living room, the dining room, the bedroom, etc. Though it can be assumed that the consciousness is permitted to wander in a precinct of privacy, it is intrinsically extremely limited within the foundation of its design. Sara Ahmed writes in her book Queer Phenomenology, ’’‘The family home’ seems so full of traces of heterosexual intimacy that it is hard to take up my place without feeling those traces as points of pressure. The House (I get to give it a capital ‘H’ because Lee Edelman gave “the Child” a capital ‘C’) is the structure that the Child exists within; while the Child is all about futurity, the House is rooted in legacy. The House is the enforced heteronormative family unit that transfers power from one generation to the next. Queer people are not welcome in the House because they threaten the continuation of the legacy; queerness threatens to destroy the foundations of the House. And so the House is haunted for us: haunted by the insidious, accrued trauma Westengard focuses on as well as the traumatic moments that we live in terror of’’ (Ahmed 11–12).

When we break apart the essential pieces of what culturally makes a house a home, the concept of a ‘‘haunted house’’ becomes very queer; the physical manifestation of the idea that a space which is meant to be a home remains almost the imposter of a safe place because of what lies behind its doors. This notion can be applied to a multiplicity of different identity-related qualms, whether it be queerness or a simple dissonance from belonging in your own family.

Famous artists such as Louise Bourgeois have utilized abstract imagery in depictions of houses or familial symbols in their artwork to represent tumultuous feelings towards childhood. Bourgeois specifically is known for incorporating spiders and arachnid elements into her work as a way of characterizing her relationship to her mother, a tapestry weaver. Acknowledging the spider as an individual of both protection and destruction, Bourgeois labels these creatures as repairers, ‘‘If you bash into the web of a spider, she doesn’t get mad. She weaves and repairs it.’’ What I find interesting about Bourgeois’ work is the matriarchal lens through which she produces these pieces instead of the standard idea in which the household is led by the man in the ideal nuclear family. Regardless of the specifics of gender roles, the House always plays a primary character through which the mother and/or father are merely vessels that carry out clinical roles that further shape the experiences and understanding of essential societal rules for their children. I think this further highlights the ways in which the House can play the role as the sole perpetrator of an anti-nurturing environment. When we dare disrupt the literal and figurative structure of the House, the House loses its fundamental purpose. Specifically through a queer lens, it can be understood where and why the idea of the haunted house originated and why it is still a very popular trope today.

As always, I would love to hear any more thoughts and comments on this because I find this such an interesting topic. I think it’s fun to see how the ‘‘haunted house’’ trope has both maintained its core characteristics while also changing throughout time as society develops further, specifically with technology. Thank you than you for reading !! <333

Emilie Blichfeldt’s retelling of the classic Cinderella fairytale manifests as a Brothers Grimm and ‘‘The Substance’’ hybrid that manages to merge feathers and frills with grotesquely vivid body horror. ‘‘The Ugly Stepsister’’ is told through the perspective of Elvira, a teenage girl who becomes one of the stepsisters to the blonde prepossessing Agnes. In an unfortunate incident at the newly merged families dinner, Agnes’ father dies leading to the reveal of both sides of the family being deep in debt with hopes of inheriting the other’s wealth. Elvira’s now twice widowed mother, Rebekka, decides that their last resort for wealth is to marry off her eldest daughter to Prince Julian. The only problem is Elvira’s appearance is characteristically unsuitable for a princess especially competing up against Agnes’ conventional looks.

Elvira spends her time hunched over her beloved storybook detailing the prince’s adventures and fantasizes of the fated day when she is clad in an elegant gown and swept off her feet by Prince Julian. Her hunger for male validation appears in the form of a tapeworm egg gifted to her by her mother in hopes of transforming Elvira into a fitful attractive woman that the prince can’t refuse. However, the tapeworm is only the beginning of Rebekka’s plans of cosmetic transformations for Elvira. As the corpse of Agnes’ father lacks a proper burial, rotting in the house’s basement, Rebekka spends the remaining of the family’s money on nose reconstruction surgery and fake eyelashes to secure her daughter’s prosperity.

Agnes grows to resent Elvira and Rebekka for their lack of empathy for her late father but still manages to reap the benefits of her physical privilege in their shared dance class. Their austere ballet teacher restricts the less attractive girls to the back of the class and brings Agnes up as the ‘‘belle of the ball’’, preening and praising her effortless elegance. Elvira’s stomach churns with a growing tapeworm and jealousy, influencing her to make spiteful jabs at Agnes. One night in a trance like state, Elvira discovers Agnes having sex with the stable boy. She utilizes this encounter to gain leverage over Agnes and is absolutely giddy that she finally has a leg up in her competition with her bewitching stepsister. Rebekka shuns Agnes and dubs her the notorious nickname ‘‘Cinderella’’.

Word gets out about her insolent behavior leading to Agnes’ withdrawal from the dance, prompting Rebekka to force the instructor to let Elvira take her spot as the lead. Agnes’ reputational downfall brings the blossoming of Elvira’s transformation. As the film progresses we witness the seemingly endless process of excruciating procedures Elvira undergoes in the plastic surgeon’s office. Rebekka’s face splits into a wicked grin while Elvira’s sister, Alma, peeks in horror through her fingers as Elvira is countlessly strapped to a chair and carved into.

Elvira must wear a golden beak-like mechanism to cover her bruised nose as it recovers from the plastic surgeons harsh blows. This device gives her a fledgling like appearance as if she were a hatching baby birding awaiting her final flight away from the sheltered nest and into womanhood.

Colors play a significant role in illustrating Elvira’s moods and relationship to her surroundings. One of the primary examples is Elvira and Agnes’ visual fights for blues on screen. Elvira’s dresses appear an immature shade of the infamous Cinderella baby blue and remain yet another example of her inaccurate yet dire efforts to replicate her stepsisters flawless counterpart. Her garments appear a fussy childish array in comparison to Agnes’ simple mature petticoat lined with white fur. Despite Elvira’s more privileged financial heritage, her overexaggerated ruffles and lace make no effort to hide her desperation for attention.

As Cinderella’s powder blue dress is being sewn by silkworms, Elvira is laced into a tiny emerald corset decorated with flowers in carnation and butter yellows. A crescendo of stomach gurgling makes an already antsy Elvira panic. The tapeworm has begun to erode Elvira’s temporary beauty and her patches of missing hair are concealed under a luscious curled blonde wig. Jeanette Catsoulis writes in her review for The New York Times, ‘‘At the ball, mothers display their preening, bedazzled daughters like show dogs; but the camera’s real interest lies in the flesh beneath the finery, in the plump swellings of belly and buttocks and the defenseless innocence of soon-to-be-chopped toes.’’ Lingering shots focus on Elvira’s paranoid watchful eyes as she glances around the ballroom hoping to catch the affirming gaze of the prince. In a coming out fashion, Elvira arrives to the floor for her seductive performance for the prince. The scene follows her prancing across the ballroom dressed as a budding flower making inviting un-breaking eye contact with the camera. This number mimics early burlesque performances with the wispy lashes, flushed cheeks, large feather fans and enticing movements.

Of course as the classic tale goes, Cinderella arrives at the ball late and is swept away by the prince only to leave a single glass slipper behind. Seething with animosity Elvira stumbles to the bathroom and vomits up tapeworm eggs. She returns home to find Agnes and in a burst of anger advances on her with a cleaver to get the other slipper so she can return it to Prince Julian in exchange for his hand. She scrambles to put it on and screams in frustration to find that her feet are too large. Elvira takes the cleaver to her feet and a close up shot shows 5 severed toes off the bone. Rebekka hears Elvira’s screams and runs in to find her smiling and exclaiming, ‘The shoe fits!’ only to find out she cut the wrong foot. Rebekka soothes her with alcohol and cuts her other foot off to finish the job.

At this point, Elvira is balding, has no feet, and a tapeworm devouring her insides. The next morning the trumpets sound the prince’s arrival and a loud crash sounds the arrival of Elvira, who slid down the stairs. She lays frozen on the floor trying to smile with her chipped tooth as blood drips down her face. The time comes for the tapeworm to be removed, adding the final cherry on top to a stomach-churning monstrous creation. The bulbous tapeworm inches out of Elvira’s throat and Alma grabs hold of the head, gaping in horror at the seemingly endless creature being pulled out of Elvira’s mouth. A limp gray tapeworm lies lifeless on the floor serving as an eminent reminder of Elvira’s anguished destructive attempts at beauty.

One outstanding message in this film is that everything that is born is doomed to rot. This theme is reflected throughout multiple different characters, whether it be Agnes’ father’s rotten corpse eaten away by maggots beneath the floors of the girls’ bedrooms, the tapeworm hatching inside Elvira and being excreted in a nauseating finale, or Elvira herself, undergoing harrowing transitions to obtain beauty that lasts her only as long as Cinderella keeps her glass slipper. ‘‘The Ugly Stepsister’’ does not sugar coat it, and instead serves it rotten on a silver platter. Though the message of the film is no new take, Blichfeldt navigates the terrain with tactful precision, managing to address the issue of beauty standards in a way that is disgustingly engaging and impossible to look away from.

Thank you for reading!! If you’ve seen this movie and have any other fun comments or thoughts please feel free to chat hehe

This is definitely not your first nor your last article you will read about the newly appointed people’s princess, Addison Rae. Beginning her career by dancing to music on her iPhone and garnering a mass following of 88 million on Tik Tok, Addison has always been fluent in the language of internet stardom. However, to the Internet, her apparent 180 from viral dancer to pop star in 2023 seemed to come out of left field. Many labeled this career shift as inauthentic to the online personality that she had originally curated and consistently upheld for years. The New York Times addresses, ‘‘What has seemed like the cool-washing of Addison Rae was in fact a kind of molting of an older identity.’’ Rae released her first EP, AR, in August of 2023, which features her first collaboration of many with Charli XCX on the track, ‘‘2 die 4’’. Though AR went primarily overlooked in the music world, it still gained some traction amongst the other corners of the Internet as people were digesting the new taste of Addison. Unbeknownst to the general public, an heiress to the pop music throne had been born.

Descending from the flirtatious tone of Britney Spears and the romantic styles of Lana Del Ray, Rae’s music has filled a cavity within the pop sphere that we didn’t even know existed. Her sonic blend is both a breath of fresh air as well as a callback to some of the greatest female artists of the past. Jon Caramanica says in his article for The New York Times that Addison functions more as an individual production rather than ‘‘a conversation with contemporary pop’’. Addison came in hot at number 4 in Billboard’s top 100 as well as hitting 6.57 million Spotify streams on release day. It’s certainly very impressive to have the ability to dive headfirst into such a renowned high-stake industry as a novice, especially now with some of the leading pop chart toppers (i.e. Chappel Roan, Charli XCX, Billie Eillish, the list goes on), and to still come out on top. Carmanica further elaborates, ‘‘Her blend of the wistful, the sultry and the unanticipated have allowed her to walk a line between mainstream legibility and progressive edge, an alliance that perhaps a performer with a longer or more beholden track record might find harder to pull off.’’ Though her budding music career may not appear as a rebrand to Addison herself, these factors definitely marketed her appeal to the public eye which further garnered the level of fame and praise she has achieved since joining the spotlight.

What really caught my attention and made me fall for Addison is the magnetic way in which she interacts with the world around her. Her unwavering devotional relationship to femininity progresses far past her appearance, the essence of her being overflowing with her bubbly flirtatious personality which perfectly matches the sound of her debut album. At her core, she is simply a southern American sweetheart whose enigmatic charm reflects her Louisiana roots. She may have been born to be a pop star but fame was something she had to learn how to work for. Leaning into the early Tik Tok algorithms, Rae began making commission from record labels by doing dances to select artist's music. Shortly after she picked up traction, big name brands found her, sponsoring her to answer ‘This or That’ questions in American Eagle’s 2020 line, strutting to pilates in a sponsored Rebok pap sesh, and was even featured in a Superbowl Sunday ad teaching a Nerds gummy how to dance. Rae confessed that certain sacrifices had to be made in order to prioritize and further preserve her public image in order to support herself. She admits, ‘‘“I was definitely strategic with it, it was a lot about like, ‘How am I just going to get out of here?’ It wasn’t about like, ‘Let me show the intricacies of myself right now.’’”

The third track on Addison, ‘‘Money is Everything’’, is a celebration of finally having the money to support herself, money that came from a career she made for herself by being herself. In the beginning of the song, Addison reflects, ‘‘When I was growing up, Mama always told me to save my money so I wouldn’t have to rely on a man to take care of me. But money isn’t coming with me to heaven, and I have a lot of it. So, can’t a girl just have fun?’’ Addison’s Louisiana childhood wasn’t all peaches and cream. Her parents originally divorced when she was young but then remarried in 2017 only to divorce again in 2022 due to suspicions surrounding her father’s infidelity. ‘‘Headphones On’’ nods to music being an outlet to escape her personal hardships. In a pithy first verse, Addison confides, ‘‘Wish my mom and dad could’ve been in love/Guess some things aren’t meant to last forever/I compare myself to the new it girl/Jealousy’s a riptide, it pulls me under.’’ Addison’s discography curates a perfectly well-rounded juxtaposition on a 20-something year old’s experience with navigating identity in an environment with fragmented experiences, similar to a lot of typical girlhood qualms. ‘‘Fame is a Gun’’, the album’s fifth track that was teased only a day prior to its single release, discusses the invigorating newfound desire for both notoriety and respect, wielding a weapon out of her own art. Stepping into the electro-pop beats of the intro, Addison presents her listeners with the rhetorical question, ‘‘Do I provoke you with my tone of innocence?’’ She indulges in confessions about being motivated by public disapproval to the tone of bouncy synth which makes an elicit statement within itself.

On NYT’s Popcast, Addison expresses her pre-fame experiences, “When I reflect back on that time I’ve recognized how much choice and taste is kind of a luxury.’’ This luxury has taken many forms, one being Addison’s older sister pop superstars and their guidance. Charli XCX, Lana Del Ray, Lorde, and Chappell Roan have all displayed support and admiration for Addison’s budding music career. On Jake Shane’s podcast Thera-Puss, Charli notes, ‘‘[Addison] writes exactly like me, when I work with her it’s like working with myself.’’

Her Louis Vuitton steps into the pop star world have landed her in it-girl territory. LA based creative known for her tumblr-esque portrayls of glittery girlhood Petra Collins chose Addison as the face of her 2025 clothing collection titled, ‘‘I’m Sorry’’. The line features handmade kitschy feminine garments centered around themes of sexuality, fetishism, and the concept of utopia. In an interview with SSENSE, Collins muses, ‘‘[Addison] really is this collection. She’s silly, fun, and sexy. I feel like people lens her in such a specific way, and it’s nice to see her differently. She’s a little mischievous.’’ Slipping into her comfortable Americana girl-next-door attitude, Addison has become the new image for tasteful high fashion with an effortless edge.

However, not all brand collaborations have aided her public image. In August 2022, Addison appeared in an Adidas x Praying collaboration sporting a white bikini that said ‘‘Father, Son, and Holy Spirit’’. Praying is a recent clothing brand that produces various garments that have provocative biblical references printed across simple shirts and hoodies, like baby tees with the words, ‘‘I’ll talk to God when I’m dead’’. Known for its ironic arial text graphic tanks that are reminiscent of early 2010s quirky tumblr designs, Praying has become associated with a pop culture that aligns with sarcastic nihilism. She sparked controversy amongst followers who accused her of ‘‘using the lord’s name in vain’’ and she broke the Internet with this ad but arguably, it only filtered out her audience to her benefit (hello, gay people!!!!). I think as soon as gay people saw the potential of her taste she started to gain more traction amongst the queer community (or maybe it was just me). No, she’s just like that!

One of her arguably most iconic moments is the paparazzi session of her walking down the street reading Britney Spears’ memoir. Addison said to Interview Magazine, ‘‘The reason why I get papped so much is because I’m not afraid to go out to the places that are popular. And the picture of me with the Britney memoir, I did not call the paps.’’

@tomasmierAddison Rae addresses crowd while opening for Lana Del Rey at Wembley Stadium in London NIGHT 2 #addisonrae #addisonre #addisonraeedit @Addison #addisonraeconcert #addisonraemusic #dietpepsi

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Her first album is soaked with colorful sounds and visuals that support the foundation of her core ethos, something playful, something nostalgic, and a hint of flirtation. Always on the nose with trends, whether it be her taste in fashion or sonic style, Addison reproduces art with an effortless flair that radiates authenticity. Most of Addison’s recent performances feature the pop star flaunting a bare face as she swirls around on stage in flowy garments in heels. She’s also done a lot of performances in lingerie, which I love and think is so fun for on stage performances. You don’t often see big stars so vulnerable with their art on stage in such physical ways and I think this is yet another aspect to Addison’s career that makes her so alluring. Her tactful choices are bold, glamorous, and tasteful, and I think her influence will impact the future choices of women in the music industry.

And I’ll leave you with this…

Thank you always for reading!

Bonjour, Tristesse by François Sargan

I was ecstatic when announced that she will be hosting a summer book club on her Substack. I have watched her videos forevverr and definitely don’t stalk her other socials to see what she reads and watches… she is my Jesus! So when she revealed that June’s book is Bonjour, Tristesse I ran to my Barnes & Noble and spent $17, which is a crazy amount of money for a 130 page book but I digress. I had never heard of this book before but remembered I had wanted to see the recent remake (featuring Chloe Sevigny) that was released in theaters last month and I ended up not having a chance to make it. So this ended up being the perfect introduction and solution for me! Though I do wish I was proficient enough in french to borrow the french copy from my library, I have still thoroughly enjoyed. I am always and forever will be a sucker for female narrators that are coming of age. The novel follows 17-year old Cécile as she navigates conflicting feelings when her widowed father entertains multiple women over the course of their summer vacation together along the Mediterranean. Cynical, stubborn, and very relatable, Cécile makes a perfect narrator for a sweet and concise story about love, attention, and both paternal and maternal relationships. One of my favorite quotes so far that sums up her character (as well as myself) is:

“Anyhow it was quite likely that in a month’s time I would have entirely different opinions on any given subject. What more could have been expected of me?” - Bonjour Tristesse, François Sargan pg. 33.

Sunburn by Chloe Michelle Howarth

Along the same literary vibes as Bonjour, Tristesse, I present Sunburn. This book has been on my TBR for so many years I just never got around to getting my hands on it but I’m so glad I finally did. I read this at a time where I don’t think I could have related more and that definitely helped shape my experience with this story. What a beautifully debilitating read! So much so that I really had to read this book in sections because at points I felt so overwhelmed with emotion that I would have to step away. Do not let this deter you… Howarth’s writing style is so incredibly deliberate and beautiful that it really made me regret reading it digitally, there were too many lines I wanted to underline to save. I have trouble enjoying modern sapphic literature because it’s usually written in more adolescent or stereotypical queer styles that I don’t particularly enjoy. Even though it’s the main character Lucy’s first experience with coming to terms with her sexuality, Howarth immerses you into her tumultous feelings and physical environment in such a delicate way that reflects the importance of these two factors working in tandem. Because her small hometown in Ireland during the 80s is extremely conservative, Lucy struggles with internal homophobia as well as pressure from her tight knit friend group. It’s also a great friends to lovers slow burn so if that’s up your alley I highly recommend!

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

Changing gears, Annihilation is one of the most fundamental books I’ve ever read because of its intoxicating storyline and narration. I originally came across this book in the Barnes & Noble in my hometown before I moved away to college and was drawn to the fact that the author Jeff VanderMeer is a Floridian and has resided in Tallahassee since 1992, where I was soon to attend FSU. Annihilation is the first book of the Southern Reach Trilogy, a series that is centered around a foggy mysterious patch of land named ‘‘Area X’’. The Southern Reach, an underground government research facility, has sent out groups of scientists on multiple expeditions into Area X and each journey has ended with more questions than answers. I’ve only read Annihilation but I do own the last 2 books in this series and have been meaning to get around to finishing the trilogy for years. Even if you don’t intend to read the others, I think Annihilation stands very strong on its own. You follow a biologist sent on a particular expedition, lead by a shady reserved psychologist, timid anthropologist, and a tactical surveyor. I absolutely inhaled this book and still remember it very vividly, Area X is its own character within the story and toys with each characters sanity, driving them to the same eventual madness that consumed the past expedition members. P.S. this book was also developed into a movie starring Natalie Portman it’s Amazing (also scary, I cried) but definitely watch it after you read the book.

Enter Ghost by Isabella Hamad

One of my favorite books that I read in 2024 was this novel. A drama, romance, and political story all woven into one, Enter Ghost is one of the most important stories and voices of this generation. The narrator of the novel, Sonia Nasir, is a struggling actress in her mid 30s who visits her older sister Haneen in Haifa, her hometown she hasn’t visited since the second intifada. Upon returning, Sonia processes the fragile relationships she holds with Palestine as well as Haneen and their extended family. Sonia ends up crossing paths with Mariam, a local director, and takes on a role in a West Bank production of Hamlet. On her journey, she finds solace in shared resistance through her art and in the face of violence, Sonia and her cast mates attempt to navigate their identity and find humanity under occupation.

Big Swiss by Jen Beagin

This book was seriously so much fun to read. As funny as it is emotional, Big Swiss follows Greta, a middle aged woman who transcribes therapy sessions from a sex therapist for a living. She becomes enticed with one patient in particular, who she nicknames ‘‘Big Swiss’’. After recognizing her voice in public, Greta finds a way to insert herself into Big Swiss’ life and the two become entangled in a tumultuous relationship. Greta soon finds out Big Swiss is married to a man and attempts to help her navigate her queerness and unhappy marriage but faces much resistance from Big Swiss. This book is sooo fun and hilarious, I read it in the JFK airport last summer fully giggling.

“Aquamarine” (2006)

TOP MOVIE OF ALL TIME!! I love love love this movie it is the sweetest thing in the world also so funny and VERY implicitly lesbian.. and takes place in a small beach town within the story so as someone who grew up by the Florida beach this movie felt soo special. It’s the perfect pick me up and the plot doesn’t center fully around men and focuses more on the female friendship aspect.

‘‘Alien Romulus” (2024)

Dare I say a movie with one of the most talented casts ever.. I went into this hoping the best and expecting the worst, especially because the Alien series can be a big hit or miss. Everything about this movie ended up being perfect to me, the cinematography, the special (practical!) effects, humor, and Isabella Merceds scream. Cailee Spaeny is an incredible lead and I was so happy to see her on screen for the 3rd time within the past year (Priscilla and Civil War being her other projects). Continuing the legacy of the Alien series is definitely no easy feat, especially making a movie that takes place in between Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986). Fede Alvarez, Romulus’ director, says in an interview with Disney, “The whole point of this movie was to take back Alien to the simplicity of the beginning of the franchise, where it was, above all things, a horror movie.” I wish I could see this movie in Dolby for the first time again (I ended up going 3 times in the first week it was out) but it still is so fun, especially if you watch with a group of people who also haven’t seen it yet.

‘‘National Anthem’’ (2023)

I’ve rarely seen people talk about this movie which is so surprising and disappointing because it is a beautiful representation of queer identity, especially in the South. On a queer ranch where individuals live without labels and expectations from the outside world, a young construction worker finds himself discovering a new identity within himself as he connects with one specific girl in the rodeo. This film deconstructs the traditional idea of family through a queer southern lens in a way that celebrates both factors individually as well as how they work together in tandem in the modern US.

Yay! Thank you for reading and I hope that if you haven’t seen or read any of these already that you do now hehe :) Also feel free to add any of your recommendations I’m always on the hunt for some new good media. Ok byee

i want someone to hold me and for you to say it back. all i can say is ‘‘goodnight’’ into my sheets just to roll over and do it again. goodnight little streetlamp and goodnight orange window. the one we made for a movie and the one i get to watch as i fall asleep. thank you for being there to touch my knees and ankles as i am folded together, laid and places neatly on the bed’s corner. tomorrow i’ll do my laundry and hum to the tune of the dryer pretending it’s a song i wrote myself.

the thing is i still think you look saintly when you

break and split open wide down the middle

the thing is i felt it coming and i wished so hard on

the drive home that it wouldn’t have to be this way

it’s an ache that feels selfish and childlike,

where i have to hold my 8 year old hand and say

you can cry today

you can cry today and tomorrow and the next

for you for them for this small world

and then i have to hold my 21 year old hand and tell them

sometimes you feel like both the bird

and the cage that tethers them together

the bird: to fly, to do what it was solely made to do

and the cage: to hold, to feel full, to have purpose

but how could i be either when i have so many reasons

to leave and to stay and to be full and to feel empty?

do i want to break out into a world that might

not have room for me?

do i want to stay in this familiar cage i have held myself

in for so many years, taking the beating and switching

back and forth and back

to fear that this cage cannot sustain itself anymore

just like the bird within it

and there only lies a small window of time

in the thick of summer to find a way to fix it

with some form of weak desire for the things

i’m sick of and the things i haven’t met yet

to understand that i must embody it all:

the bird and the cage and the desire,

to become the whole organism to function

even if today i just cry

‘‘where’s the hashtag?’’

2025: The year of strangers on the internet harassing conventionally attractive women in viral videos about their sexuality. I know this is not something relatively new, however, I’ve recently noticed an uptick in the creation of slangy terms that are synonymous with lesbian, like ‘‘wuhluhwuh’’ and ‘‘girl kisser’‘ on the internet. People have also taken up using terms like ‘‘sesbian lex’’ instead of just.. using the real words. You could have a video of two girls making out on your timeline and you will still find a comment of someone asking if it’s gay. It’s embarrassing! It doesn’t seem like this has infiltrated the gay men community either and remains an interest solely surrounding queer non-men. Maybe it’s because we are rapidly descending into an America where anything remotely queer is being scrubbed out of any plane of existence like Google recently removing Pride Month and other important holidays out of the calendar. Even my college, FSU, took out its options for LGBTQ+ housing on the on-campus dormitory forms and just rescinded it after backlash from students. With Google claiming it ‘‘wasn't scalable or sustainable’’ to include unofficial national holidays, it makes me wonder if we as a society are further applying the idea that queer culture doesn’t hold enough importance for space in our culture into our own personal rhetoric. I want to further probe this issue, using these recent trends as a catalyst to explore queerness as a whole, how it has adapted to exist in the digital age and further, how that changes our cultural context and understanding of these identities.

Now I pose these questions: Have we as people lost the ability to identify members of our own communities? Have we become devoid of using and understanding context/visual clues? Or are we simply nosy?

i. Flagging

Because the world has somewhat become slightly more understanding and accepting of queer culture compared to what is was like during the previous centuries, it can be argued that queer symbolism has become simplified and diluted as we traverse the broad, ever expanding digital world instead of just the physical landscape. What I particularly mean by this is it appears that the queer community has collectively taken solace amongst the comfort of digital avatars and anonymity and therefore not needing to rely so much on physical hints to imply such queerness. However, 60 or so years back, when lesbians could only depend on underground bars and gatherings to meet other queer women, being out in the ‘normal’ world meant having to develop tactics to subtly display sexuality through ways other fellow queer people could recognize.

Though it was later referred to as flagging, the ‘’hanky code’’ was developed around the early 1970s and was one of the first ways in which queer people communicated their sexuality amongst each other. Ranging from kinks to specific sexual preferences, these small bandanas were differentiated by color and therefore, meaning. It is assumed that using bandanas as a way of signaling sexuality was developed from San Francisco cowboys and miners during the Gold Rush. Because this was a predominately male job, the amount of men who resided in San Francisco at the time outnumbered the women (a whopping 12.2 men per 1 woman). Line dancing was a popular social activity of the mid 1800s and due to the imbalanced ratio, men would tie either red or blue handkerchiefs on their arms to signal whether they led or followed in the dance. This specific usage of hankerchiefs was inspired by the Latin American dance named the cueca, which was traditionally danced with a hankerchief to symbolize affection, and it spread up to the California coast. An article written by user FutureSummer for WordPress emphasizes, ‘‘It’s one of many uses of handkerchiefs as symbols throughout history, and I think it became an element of the hanky code story because it’s a specific case where, in a space that would one day be a gay mecca, a group of men who lacked divided gender roles as a mechanism for navigating a socially controlled intimacy replaced them with a tool everyone had. It’s an exciting, almost anarchistic, and logical-sounding origin story of dancing cowboys.’’

Similarly, carabiners have historically remained an iconic symbol for lesbians to communicate. The adoption of carabiners into the female wardrobe began during WWII, when women started picking up blue collar jobs to support their families and fill in for the men who were off at war. These jobs offered a relatively safe space for masculine women to feel somewhat affirmed in their gender and sexuality instead of working feminine jobs like sewing. After the war ended, women continued to fight for a workplace without discrimination, especially in male dominated jobs such as welding and machinery. Carabiners became both a symbol of women’s liberation as well as the masculine working-class aesthetic. Somewhere along the way, carabiners were adopted into a lesbian code in which the side of your belt loops you wore your carabiner on signaled whether you were a top or bottom. In an interview with Slate, Alison Bechdel says, ‘‘[Key rings are] a phallic symbol—they’re all about potency, agency, capability — When I first came out, the key ring was the first visual cue I learned of my new world, picked up through anthropological surveys of lesbian dance parties. Many years and worn-out carabiners and photos of friends’ key-adorned hips later, I still wear my keys on my belt for fashion and function.’’ Because of its versatility and practicality, carabiners were a conveniently casual way to subtly signal sexuality and preferences.

ii. Queerness in the Digital

The beauty of the marriage of queerness and the vast digital landscape of the Internet is that for the most part there are no laws, no stereotypes, no expectations. On the Internet, you can be anything, take on the form of whatever you want, say whatever you please. This extensive and liberating space has created an environment where queer people specifically have found refuge. The internet allows for a sense of euphoric anonymity that could otherwise be impossible to achieve in the real world, and therefore this provides a safe space for people to explore their identity.

The term ‘cyberfeminism’ was coined in the early 1990’s and ultimately catalyzed the idea that the internet is a utopian space that is completely isolated from modern society and the patriarchy. According to the Oxford Dictionary, cyber-feminism is ‘’a movement that began in the 1990s utilizing cyber-culture and feminist ideas to re-theorize gender, the body, and identities in relation to technology and power.’’ The digital has become an extended limb that is helping us get closer to a society in which ideas like gender and sexuality have been fully deconstructed. The line between the physical form, or body, and the ‘other’ become blurred in the digital space. Annette Markham, professor at RMIT School of Media and Communication and professor of Information Studies at Aarhus University, conducted a speech called, ‘’Remixing gender studies: Methodological provocations for creative information’’. In this, Markham presented the numerous possibilities that the digital space provides to reassess and rethink ideas ‘’through the notion of remix’’. In their article, Digital Gender: A Manifesto, writers Anna Foka and Viktor Arvidsson explain that, ‘’she showed how remix allows us to embrace and grapple with complexity – instead of simplify – by placing less emphasis on methods as templates to either apply to experiences and organize these experiences into particular categories and structures, to instead favor an emphasis on meaning as derived from a creative process of inquiry and how scholars can situate their practice within a world permeated by digital technologies’’ (Foka, Arvidsson, pg. 7). By introducing the term ‘remix’ into this particular situation, we can attempt to begin to understand just how much the internet can aid in altering identity. The internet holds no restrictions, its beauty is in the fact that it is limitless. There is strong emphasis on free will in the digital world, which is extremely helpful for those who identify as queer or transgender.

iii. Sexuality Discourse on the Internet

Now I want to discuss the new slang that has been used as a gateway to finding out if a woman likes other women or not. ‘‘Girl kisser’’ and variations of WLW, now known as wuhluhwuh or winners love winning, have taken the primary form of hashtags and comments on Tik Tok. The term ‘‘women loving women’’, or WLW, originally stems from the Harlem Renaissance where it was used to describe queer women explicitly in the black community. The word was commonly used by Ruth Ellis, a black lesbian activist who provided sanctuary and support for the LGBTQ+ community in Detroit, further paving the way for many other activists to follow in her wake. I would argue that these new terms are watered down replacements for words that used to hold a rich and important history. They’ve become diluted, now only signaling something akin to an online trend rather than a sexual identity. This is one of many factors that leads to a much greater issue: erasure.

Bonnie J. Morris, a lesbian activist, addresses her concerns for the existence of lesbian spaces in a world that is becoming rapidly digitized in her article for Slate. What made lesbian activism in the 20th century so impactful and radical is the fact that these places existed physically, forcing their way into a heterosexual world and making space for important voices. Having curated feminist lesbian spaces allowed for a powerful subculture to remain visibly persistent. ‘‘Many of us are now spending the energy of our menopausal years pushing back against enroaching disappearance; our own invisibility’’, says Morris. She argues that the new age in our current culture of ‘‘LGBT friendly media’’ has severely skewed the general understanding of what lesbianism is. At its roots, lesbianism is a radical act, a protest, a liberation. The lesbian activists that protested during the last 20th century had grown up during WWII, experiencing military imperialism, fascism, and the civil rights movement firsthand. A lot of the lesbian protests that took place during the 70s and 90s intersected with other issues surrounding race and politics.

I’m just going to leave this long quote by Morris here:

‘‘This shift in media representation idealizes lesbians’ participation in the American dream: settling down with a partner, marrying a beautiful wife, raising children, being active in the local school PTA and church community. It’s a wholesome, nonthreatening participation in middle-class values by women who just happen to be gay. This is the image mainstream LGBT groups have promoted since the late 1990s: lesbians as soccer moms, as consumers, as participants in faith, nuclear family, and military service. Vanishing from this landscape are the many large-scale gatherings once typifying dyke subculture, where talking points included some very tough critiques of church, state, family dynamics, and military imperialism.’’

iv. Marketing and Selling Queerness as a Product

In early January, Lucy Dacus began marketing her new single, ‘‘Best Guess’’, by creating a Tik Tok ‘casting call’ for the song’s music video. Over the course of the next month, my for you page was flooded with suave, charming masculine individuals using the 15 second snippet of the song. When Dacus’ music video premiered on February 10th, it was faced with both praise and criticism.

It’s a fine line to walk between proper queer representation and supporting your community to marketing sexuality as a product that you can profit from for your own benefit. I’m not saying Lucy Dacus did one or the other, I think this situation is a lot more nuanced than that. Rolling Stones notes that Dacus did pledge $10,000 in donations for GoFund me campaigns for trans surgeries. In her tweet, she says, ‘‘If other people wanna scroll through and make donations, please do - the government will never be the source of our validation or protection, we have to do it ourselves.” This is a very honorable decision to make, and it seems to get rarer these days when celebrities use their platforms for good. What doesn’t sit right with me is the fact that Dacus made an open casting call to those who identified as queer and masc leaning, and ended up hand picking people primarily with a platform. Her original message was directed explicitly towards her fans, and gave hope to the thousands that applied that they would be featured and represented in her music video. Casting people who have direct access to viewers and fans online gives Dacus the guarantee that her brand will have an X amount of promotion and engagement. Ultimately, it appears that this casting decision was made purely based on marketing and profit.. not a good look. When you water down an important community of underrepresented people primarily for your own profit (whether it be financially, personally, etc.),

Others also argued that her music video passed the ‘‘paper bag test’’, emphasizing the lack of dark skin representation and instead including a majority of white or white passing individuals. Along with this, there was no disabled or plus size representation despite the fact that many who identified with either or both of those communities auditioned. This opened up a lot of online discussion surrounding what it means to be inclusive, specifically in terms of a niche minority which is in this case masculine queer non-men. User Ro Godwynn, and queer musician themself, on Tik Tok insists that just because you don’t see yourself represented in media doesn’t dismiss the fact that these communities still exist. In reference to the music scene, Godwynn implores, ‘‘How many of them are black lesbians? How many of them are black queer people? — If you are a black lesbian musician, let the response to this video remind you that people are looking for you.’’ Godwynn stated that this music video motivated them to promote their music even more because it validated the fact that there are people still looking to see themselves represented on screen. Another user, Brooke Ellysse, reminds people to ‘‘Make sure we are being critical but we’re not being dismissive — Moving forward, this just opens the discussion for what it means to be inclusive and what it means to be diverse.’’ It’s important to not discredit the minor representation that was given to the masculine population of the queer non men community, and to remember that there is still a lot of work to be done.

Thank you for reading! I hope this article provides some things to ponder on or just some lesbian history at the least :)

three coffee beans: two huddled in the empty glass, happiness accidentally swallowed. cheers!

we parade through the hour thundering with laughing applause for the jazz quartet, keeping time through knocking knees and sideways glances.

i come home grinning and dizzy to find the shy blessing of a black cats stray whisker folded amongst white sheets, a gift left especially for me. a reminder of last night and the faithful approval from god or God knows what. but i know it when i see it.

three leaf clovers sitting shoulder to shoulder and waving in the wind like children on sunday! ‘‘i wonder if there are any four leaf clovers in there’’ my friend says while i’m beginning to think three is a much luckier number, though i keep my mouth shut.

the sky breaks open just as we are finishing and i feel the blessings of raindrops on the tips of my fingers. a pattern i could’ve predicted if i hadn’t been so confidently naive but that’s just how life works, isn’t it?

three days left of february: i shall spend it in the sun! her last gift left for me before march. the final few months, gritting my teeth, biding my time until Life starts again. cyclic endings and beginnings, and endings and beginnings and endings again. until i am just like the same mess when i started!

tomorrow the moon tucks

away her yellow glow until

its the size of a black cats

clipped nail. just enough for

a sliver of vanilla cake and

maybe a phone call, because

that’s what i wished for

when i blew away a stray eyelash.

sometimes i’d rub my

eyes a little harder so i could

cheat my wish and view it as another

chance to hear your voice. i know that

every time you enter my mind its

seven times the amount i’ve entered

yours. but as i blow out the towers of

wax ill pray that you miss me and

i hope i don’t waste my wish.

if you were to ask me what the one thing that my therapist of seven years has told me the most, i would say she has an unyielding affinity for my stubborn inability to surpass my own judgements of myself. i am, in fact, my own worst critic (this definitely does not come as a shock). it’s a cut that runs deep, something that has been a very present factor in my ways of thinking ever since i was little. under the guise of what my teachers would call ambition and my therapist would label a slightly concerning drive for perfection, i flew through elementary and middle school with gold star stickers and circled A’s in red ink. in 7th grade, my school introduced a special award for students who outperformed their peers in any academic aspect. these awards would be handed out monthly to a particular selection of very special students, or as they called it, the students of the month. the lucky students, one from each grade and subject, would then be granted bragging rights as well as a small lunch separate from the cafeteria where the other students ate. i vividly remember being pulled aside in my 6th period language arts class and being handed a printed certificate with huge cursive letters. through her coffee breath and stained straightened teeth, my teacher told me she had selected me to be her student of the month. i went to an extremely small k-8 school and wasn’t competing against a large number of peers, so i felt a heightened sense of accomplishment. my heart was racing as i reached out my sweaty palms to accept the paper, my golden ticket to an exclusive elite. i had worked hard for this, and language arts was (and still is) my only strong standing subject. the validation i so deeply craved had finally been given, and for the next few years i continued to desperately chase that high. as soon as one goal post was hit, i continued to push them further across the field in my mind.

art has never been much different. i think i find it difficult to articulate my relationships to my individual creative projects because creating is a great outlet for me as well as a catalyst for my perception of self worth as both an individual and an artist. creating anything has always been a big deal for me. even the smallest of projects had to be the perfect representation of craftsmanship, a statement, an embodiment of me. because of this standard i set for myself, i’ve also had a very difficult time allowing myself to create casually, and further, to let myself share those projects with others. even as i write this, i keep having to refrain from succumbing to the familiar spiral of thoughts, ones like ‘‘how will people like this?’’ and ‘‘how is their perception of any aspect of my work going to reflect back onto me as an individual?’’ and i know … it’s bad!!!! like girl this is literally just substack….

my therapist often prompts me to ask myself if i set everyone else to the same ridiculously impossible standards, to which i answer, no, of course not. i have surrounded myself with a lot of friends who are artists especially in the past four years at college, and together we have traversed the tumultuous terrain that is your early 20s. i feel so lucky to get to have such friends that share the same drive to create and the passion for appreciating storytelling. why would i ever hold such people to these standards when they are the exact reason why i continue to create? being surrounded by people who are so eager to put their art out there, regardless of what it is, just because they made it and it is proof of our existence in this huge world. regardless of where this art ends up, whether it is displayed in a museum or lives in a stack of journals, i think it’s important to acknowledge any attempts at artistic endeavors. we are trained to be seekers of affirmation and validation in every aspect of life, but i think art is one of the things that rebels against this framework. and clearly, at least in my case, it still takes a lot of effort to train my mind to approach creating through a lens in which production is not a measure of my individual capability, but more as an expression of experiences.

i am definitely very guilty of holding myself back from making more art, consciously and unconsciously. i could list off at least ten different projects i have started both within the past week and the past 4 years that remain uncompleted. through writing this i’ve noticed that it is simply my own perfectionism that refrains me from sitting down to complete any of these things. sometimes even before i start something, the possibility of me not liking the outcome will discourage me. my 21 year old overachiever brain finds it impossible to comprehend that i can in fact make things that are imperfect. i can also make things out of pure enjoyment, creating something just because i want to, not just to seek some form of external validation. i want to make anything and everything, especially for the little 8 year old artist in me who wanted to learn about anything she could get her hands on. i think i am starting to learn that her and i are a lot alike.

my note for little me and future me and anyone else who needs it:

don’t tame it!!!

thanks 4 reading xoxo

1. New journal

   I’ve been stuffing my current journal to the brim with writing and have begun to look at cuter journal options other than just buying another Moleskin and plastering it with stickers. These Once Upon A Time journals are so precious and there’s so many sweet cover options, you also get to choose the type of paper you want inside (drool).

   

2. Vintage/Odd sticker sheets

   I love love love stickers and have a collection going, specifically of stickers I love too much that I can’t bear to put on anything because they’re just too cute. I’ve found lots of silly/funky/vintage sticker sheets on Etsy that I love, like these doll heads attached to spider bodies.

   

These vintage Hallmark pony stickers are also pretty awesome. There’s countless vintage sheets on Etsy as well as Ebay, like these Holly Hobbie ones (however, I think these sold because the link to the shop wasn’t working </3).

3. Incense Scented Perfume

   I’ve been on the hunt for a new perfume recently, and have really been wanting something with an older muskier smell. I came across this website called Alkemia Perfumes that specializes in curating special scents that include notes like candied black cherry, tobacco, and leather. They also do sample sets and offer a variety of selected themes to choose from, like a Magic & Mystery themed box or an Unconventional Romance set.

4. Ocean Animal Jellycat

   Maybe it’s because it’s currently the off season, but Jellycat has some ocean animal restocking to do.. almost every ocean animal is sold out on their website however as soon as that fluffy starfish is back in stock I will be purchasing immediately.

   

5. Dead fly earrings

   My long-term plan is to have a Bunch of cool awesome ear piercings that are fully healed (which at this point, seems impossible), and I love coming across funky little finds like these dead fly acrylic earrings on Etsy.

   

6. Joan of Arc necklace

   I came across this Etsy shop after seeing one of their items on Pinterest and I fell in love. This artist makes a bunch of Saints necklaces, so there’s many to choose from! These would be so cool layered with some other vintage jewelry pieces.

   

7. Horse Cuff Bracelet

   Ok this is basically an Etsy wishlist post but sorry… #supportsmallbusinesses. Look at this handmade horse engraved bracelet..

   

   I think this concludes my current wishlist… I hope whoever reads this feels a little more inspired instead of dreading holiday shopping :P

Since this past Tuesday, I have been trying my best to avoid doom scrolling and have found familiar solace in Pinterest. I’ve taken a lot of comfort in creating new boards centered around reverting back to our connection with nature and ‘‘simpler’’ times, like when Instagram or Donald Trump didn’t exist. I have a feeling that especially within the next year, we are going to see a lot of trends revolving around themes of nature and solitude. We’ve already seen the insane rise of the trad wife trend this past year where women have begun glamorizing domesticity that was once the societal expectation of women in the 1950s and prior. Nara Smith and Hannah Neeleman (AKA Ballerina Farm) have spearheaded this movement as they promote their everyday joy in running their household and taking care of their children on TikTok and Instagram. I’m going to make kind of a crazy point here, but I believe that this trend is a butterfly effect of people yearning for times when everything appeared a lot simpler. And obviously, the trad wife movement is an ugly, twisted, misogynistic outcome of this (in My opinion..) BUT that’s why I am writing this article because I take it upon myself to provide the people with what they need, AKA aestheticizing the great medieval times. So here we go…

If you’re thinking I’m going to do a bunch of insane research in this post to make a great scientific academic argument proving historically that the Medieval times were in fact cool, you would be wrong. This is for aesthetic purposes only. I don’t really care that much.

Here is a list of things I’ve compiled that I think people need to start doing again.

1. Carrying around big ass swords

   ‘‘Your body, my choice’’ meets ‘‘your body, my sword!’’. I’ve seen multiple videos of non men on TikTok providing tips since Tuesday on what you can carry to defend yourself if needed, let’s go back to our roots! I want a big sword that I can carry around in armor, chainmail, shoulder plates, the whole spiel.

   

   I think we as a society got rid of swords waaaay too quickly, like just look at the craftsmanship on these things!

   

   2. Chainmail

   Whether its jewelry, headwear accessories, or entire outfits, I want it all. It’s chic, it’s protective, it’s versatile. I’ve been really obsessed with chainmail chokers specifically those that are adorned with jewels or pearls.

   

There’s also some really cool headpieces inspired by chainmail accessories from those times.

3. Plethora of fun career opportunities!

   1. seamstress

   2. tapestry or silk weaver

   3. knight

   4. artisan

   5. welder or metalsmith

   6. sitting by the window and pining

   7. riding horses

   8. gossiping

   9. baking focaccia or something

   10. jester

       

       4. Awesome medieval architecture

       From archways, to winding stone staircases, to stained glass, to stone castles, I think this time period takes the cake for best architecture Ever. Women have a dire need to peer out the highest window in a big castle and pine!!!

       

       

       5. The clothing (obviously)

       I feel like there’s such a range in how you could dress in medieval clothing. There’s armor, velvet gowns, loose blouses, the list goes on!

       

       

       

       6. So much religious symbolism and imagery

       Now I love christian and catholic imagery as much as the next girl so you know this era is a fave.

       

       

       

       7. Sending messages and mail via dove

       I don’t even know if this is something that ever existed, let alone during Medieval times, but I think we as a society should employ this method again. I did a digital photoshoot for Strike Magazine at my college last spring inspired by old photographs and letters, similar to ones you would find in a photo album from your grandparents. Here’s the link if you wanna check it out :P Anyways, I would love to write ornate letters and pin them to a dove’s collar and send it off… everything is (so) romantic.

       

       

       I think this concludes my silly little list, I hope you enjoyed reading and maybe feel a little more hopeful and inspired xoxo