Wish We Could Turn Back Time....

Definition of 'seeing too much of a show': 'recognising the show from the back of someone's head in the first five seconds of a promo'.

See, I hate hospitals. Fear them, despise them, don't want anything to do with them as long as there are live people walking around.

And I really, REALLY hate waiting rooms.

Why is it so....sterile? Cold? Creepy? 'Going to smuggle you away to a dark fate and no trace of you will ever be found' like?

Maybe it's just me....

And the telly is ALWAYS on and NEVER playing anything good! Just...why.

So, there were three random trailers. And I knew all three of them - just the other two it took me a while to get (one was until I  saw the faces of the characters, and the other was until I saw the series name) but then there was the third one. First five seconds, back of the head.

For my sanity and the river not quite in Egypt, no names will be mentioned.

Speaking of shows, there are several I DEARLY need to catch up on.

Blacklist although at this point I'll probably just wait until the series is over again so I don't have too much cliffhangers at least. Doctor Who as well, although for whatever reason, I'm just not in the mood - probably something having to do with the girl who is impossible to get rid of..... Agent Carter but.... Well. I just want to have her dress!

Can you blame me??  Black and red and vintage and long and what is there NOT to like???  Well, besides the low neckline - but THAT is easily fixed.

I also would like to know WHY she is dancing with Jarvis but.... I'm sure we'll find out. And I refuse to spoil myself more.

.....if there was any doubt that she's a Widow though, I think her current clothes choices are either dead giveaways or blatant foreshadowing depending on the point of view......


And it's April now! Which - for one - I have a decidely evil and macabre sense of humour that is dying to be let out today, but unfortunately I don't know anyone that WOULDN'T kill me or give me the fifth degree if I loosed it so.....  That's a lost cause.

However.... April is National Poetry Month.

So, I've a challenge for anyone that writes any sort of poetry or verse: write one poem every single day for the rest of the month.

It's fun.

Especially if you can link them all.

Bon chance!

I'm going to post this and see if I can every finish the companion to Pippen's dress.....

Wherefore from Whence?

Grace Kelley

I was asked a few times recently why I dress the way I do.

I didn't have an answer.

Elizabeth Taylor

Oh, there's the one that says I love dresses and I feel pretty in the clothes - but why do I? There are are many gorgeous modern styled dresses that are even modest and would flatter my figure - so why then do I prefer Vintage fashions?

And I don't really know - perhaps I'm proud in that I'm different?

I've always worn dresses. We never really went...out, so my mum allowed me to wear dresses that were better for outings or church in play. I suppose I simply got used to it. I got used to seeing elegant, rich women on the screen - and I copied them.

When I began reading, I read stories of women men fought over and fought for; and I saw that as the way it was supposed to be.

Of course, I grew up, and the world is no longer that way. I grew up, and I no longer fit the dresses; and my style changed to dull trousers and shirts hastily thrown together. My hair had to be hacked off, and I just...didn't care.

Lauren Bacall

I never stopped enjoying the books or the stories, and I wished that I could be within them.

And then I began sewing my own clothes, and I sewed circle skirts and petticoats. And then I began to sew half and quarter circle skirts - styles from the Forties and Fifties. And I imitated a corset in the best way I could, and fitted my blouses and belted my waist. I all but abandoned trousers and that has hardly changed.

Why do I dress that way? Why do I prefer outdated Vintage fashions rather than similar modern fashions that would be easier to keep up and easier to manage?

I think it's because of what they represent.

Not feminity or high-bred manners - rather, perfection. Protection. Bearing. A picture from some carefully posed card that cannot possibly be true at all times, but does enough to imitate it that it's believed.

Amy Adams (who was supposed to be Priscilla....
but that pictures was never labeled....)

When you picture Forties or Fifties fashion, do you picture broken homes and careless scrimping by? Certainly, it existed - but the immediate mental image is of put together....care. From the head to the toes, everything is a sculpted outfit. It's a...shield. Pretending to be alright no matter what has gone on in the home.

It's sort of a balancing act, I suppose. Because a Vintage outfit is not something that can just be....thrown together. It's something that must be planned and prepared. The Hairstyles especially can take at least one day to prepare, and makeup and underpinnings likewise can take some time to put on.

It's a distraction. Oh, it's a beautiful, confident distraction - but it is a distraction nonetheless. Because there is something in acting - if you do it long enough and convincingly enough to lie to others, you'll succeed in lying to yourself for a little bit.

There's also an air of...safety in the fashions.

Lauren Bacall

Vintage fashion - street fashion at least, some formal gowns are the exception - but those I've not the pleasure to make or wear as of yet. And even so, I would shy from the revealing cuts nonetheless.

But there is safety in it. When people look at me, I do not feel the need to smooth my garments or cover up - my clothes are not too ill-fitting and they are not immodest. I do not feel that I am.....unprotected. For lack of a better word.

I do not want to be part of the modern world. I want to be in one of my books, in one of my stories - where everything works out in the end. I am not an actress, and writing cannot extend into reality. My clothes are.......Well, they are a small portal to the past. They are my small attempt to be...young and childlike. To play. To pretend that I'm a princess and that there is a knight somewhere to treat me well and to fight over and for me.

There's not. But I can pretend.