#Leather Artisan Shoes

[abarcsshoes]

Each pair of Abarcs is a testament to the Mediterranean natural beauty and expert craftsmanship, molded to fit the contours of your feet with precision and care.

[hottiesbooted]

Marcella in Black Leather Over The Knee Fernando Berlin Boots. 

[zumaira]

Unze London Pakistani Fashion Brand Shoes For Men & Women's

[magazinepk]

Unze London Pakistani Fashion Brand Shoes For Men & Women's

[dresshistorynerd]

Sewing mid-16th century Venetian dress in doll scale

My parents moved from my childhood home, so I needed to finally take all my old toys I want to keep to store myself, including my dolls. For a long while I've been thinking it might by fun to sew tiny historical clothing for dolls. I love watching doll customization videos, they are so satisfying, and I just really love it, when there's a normal sized thing and then you make it tiny. Especially if it's still functional and made from correct materials. I can't explain it better than tiny versions of bigger things just make me vibrate on higher level. Now that I have my dolls in my home and a box full of fabric scraps, I have everything I need to just start sewing. So I did. And it was extremely fun. I have already started working on a 1890s doll outfit.

This will show my age (not that it doesn't read in my bio), but my dolls are all mainly My Scenes. I was Team My Scene in the early 2000s Bratz vs. My Scene wars. I did not like the proportions of Bratzes. All my My Scenes are Madison, she was my girl.

Here's all the items I made. I tried to use as much historical methods as was possible on doll scale and hand-sewed everything. I made a shift, hose, dress, necklace, earrings, partlet and shoes. I did almost make detachable sleeves, but I wasn't happy with them and I will need to remake them. It took me so long to finish one sleeve and I was very frustrated when I wasn't happy with the result, so I will need some time to make a second attempt.

Underlayer

I have finer white cotton than linen so I used the cotton for the shift and partlet, even though cotton wasn't really used widely at the time, definitely not in underwear, but it worked better in this scale. I didn't have thin enough wool for the hose, so I used fabric from my old thin stockings. Knitted stockings were not quite yet a thing so that's not very accurate, but that's the best I got. I choose red since red hose seemed to have been pretty common based on Venetian paintings, where the hose are shown. I used tiny beads I had lying around as buttons for the sleeves.

I'm not super happy with the neckline. I couldn't come up with a good way to finish gathered neckline on this scale without making it bulky. In future I will try something else.

Overgarments

Dress

The dress itself is made from the remaining scraps of the lovely Latvian linen I bought many years ago from Riga and have already made several garments from. The skirt is cartridge pleated, though the pleats at places behave a little weirdly due to the scale. I used semi heavy linen as lining and finished the panels separately as was typical in 16th century. I didn't use any boning equivalent, but I use cording to reinforce the laced opening. I of course sewed tiny lacing holes, which was very fun. The cord for the lacing I plaited from heavy thread.

Here's couple of examples from 1550s and 1560s Venice I used as basis for the dress.

Partlet

A Venetian renaissance woman of course needs her boob window partlet. Unfortunately I didn't have any super sheer linen or silk to make the fashionable sheer look.

Shoes

The shoes are chopines, which were very fashionable in Venice at the time. They were platform slippers with wooden base, which were covered with leather or fancy fabrics, like brocade or velvet. I didn't make the heels super tall since I was going for more toned down merchant/artisan class sort of vibe, and the very tall were used by upper class women and courtesans. I carved the heels from soft wood and covered them with sateen.

For reference here's couple of 16th century Venetian chopines.

[mrs-nanami]

Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

[serendipityandbenevolence]

Baizhu x Reader (Arranged Marriage)

I know this is a bit (lot) different to what I normally post on this account, but I am a SUCKER for arranged marriages in fanfic, so I am choosing to disregard my sagau roots (not permanently dw) It’s a bit out of my comfort zone, but I really hope it comes out well :)

Contains - You getting injured, you and baizhu having beef (enemies to lovers fr), you and baizhu not realising that you are engaged to each other, arranged marriage (duh) your dad kinda sucks tbh

It took you rolling your ankle to realise how bad an idea climbing a mountain unprepared was. Granted, when you had started climbing the mountain, you had thought you were prepared. Your clothing was (somewhat) practical, you had stolen a pair of your father’s shoes that he used when hiking and you had found a nice leather satchel to hold your snacks and hand shovel. 

It had been fine at first, nothing more than a pleasant hike, with bird chirping and a soft breeze whistling through the trees. But with every step you took, the path became steeper, the sun became hotter and the god-damned shoes you bothered from your father hurt more. They had seemed a bit large when you first put them on, but now it felt like you were going to trip over them with every step. 

Your clothes weren’t faring much better. Your good, practical clothing had caught on nearly every single branch and shrub you passed. You would have to hide them when you got home, because you did not want to have to explain to your parents exactly how your clothing got so tattered and torn. The only things that hadn’t let you down was the satchel and your snacks, although the snacks were long gone now, despite not even reaching the top of the mountain.

Looking back on the moment, it seemed almost like one of those comedy performances, that wandering artisans performed in the town square. It was ironic, truly, how quickly everything fell apart. A single stone in your path, that you hadn’t even noticed until you were stepping on it. Your father’s shoes skidded off it, causing your ankle to twist painfully and send you careening into a nearby bush, your shirt tearing even more as the branches scraped your skin. 

And there you lay, facedown in a bush in the middle of nowhere, close to the peak of a nearly abandoned mountain trail, with nothing but a satchel and a sprained ankle. 

All of this for a fucking flower.

It was silly, you were aware of that. Your mother had told you stories about a kind of flower that only grew on this particular mountain, whose petals formed a distinctive heart shape, and which was said to bless whoever received one with true love. It was cheesy, yes, but that didn’t stop many young men and women from climbing the mountain in order to pick them for their fiances. But as the years passed, the flowers became more and more sparse, thanks to the droves of hopeless romantics picking them all. And now, they are said to only be found at the very top of the mountain, where the lovers were too scared to climb.

You didn’t even know if Baizhu liked flowers. 

You’d never met him, which was surprising considering how long he’d been a client of your father. Your father, a renowned supplier of medicinal herbs, was thrilled when Baizhu first began working with him. Prior to that, all his business had been to local doctors and healers, but having a client in far-away Liyue Harbor excited him, especially a doctor of such a stellar reputation. 

You almost felt like you did know him, with how much your father talked about Baizhu. Every shipment of goods that was requested meant another long monologue over the dining table about how fortunate he was to have such a consistent and well-paying client. You almost asked your father if HE wanted to marry Dr Baizhu, but you thankfully refrained. 

You knew your father had been dropping hints to Baizhu for a while now, about how he hoped his child would be married soon, about how Baizhu surely must be so lonely without a spouse, about how Baizhu really just felt like he was part of the family already. What you hadn’t expected was for Baizhu to accept.

And now, here you were, a week out from your wedding and nearly passed out on the side of a road, trying to get that god-damned flower. 

There was no way that the situation could get any worse.

“Oh dear! Are you alright?”

Or maybe it could. 

You truly had the worst luck. How was it that during the most embarrassing moment of your life, a person had to appear? This was an abandoned trail! 

“Please … just leave me here. I’m already contemplating my life choices and regretting the actions I’ve taken to get here, my pride can’t take another hit.”

“I really… can’t just leave you here, you know that, right?” The voice, which you could now identify as male, sounded like it was trying to hold back laughter, while also truly sounding concerned.

“I assure you, you can. Please do. Keep continuing on your way.”

There was silence for a moment, and you almost allowed yourself to hope that whoever this man was had left, until you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders and pull you out of the bush, depositing you in a rather undignified heap on the ground.  

“My sincerest apologies about your pride. Are you injured?”

You sighed and made your best effort to fix your hair, attempting to look less like you just fell into a bush. Your saviour had the audacity to look perfectly put together, with barely a hair out of place, despite having just hiked the same distance as you. Though he also looked far more prepared, with shoes that actually fit and an entire bag filled with supplies.

“Only the aforementioned pride and my ankle,” You sighed, looking down at the already bruised and swollen skin, then up at the nearly vertical path ahead of you.

“I truly hope you don’t plan on continuing to climb with that ankle of yours?” He questioned, squatting down to get a better view at your injury, laying a gentle hand upon it.

You chose to ignore the question, still hoping to find a way to get to the top of the mountain, instead taking the opportunity to stare at the man. He had the most intriguing golden eyes, with slitted pupils like a snake, which were sharply fixed on your ankle.

“Your lack of a response speaks wonders, so let me rephrase. You will not be continuing to climb with that ankle of yours.” His eyes met yours, looking for any argument.

“And how do you plan to stop me?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a man who initially seemed so polite, he sure had a way of getting on your nerves. You’d spent the first 10 minutes of him carrying you back down the mountain (over his shoulder!) trying to convince him to put you down and when that hadn’t worked, you’d settled on silent treatment. But even that was testing your patience, you’d become tired of watching the sun creep towards the horizon, of listening to the birds singing up above, of resisting the urge to ask him what hair products he used to make his hair so silky.

“So…”

“Oh, you want to make conversation now? Finally given up on ignoring me?” He laughed at you, making you grit your teeth.

“Alright, I get it! You’re acting in my best interests by not letting me continue climbing the mountain, you don’t have to act all high and mighty about it!” You cut your angry tirade off with an annoyed huff, turning your face away from him.

“Why were you even climbing up there to begin with? It’s certainly not a beginners trail.”

“Oh, uhm, you know…”

“I certainly don’t know, which is why I’m asking you, but I appreciate the faith you have in thinking I can read your mind.”

You smacked his shoulder once, then a second time when you noticed he was laughing.

“But seriously… why?” He turned to face you, eyes searching your face for some sort of answer, before sighing and turning back towards the path.

You were silent for a long moment before remembering that this man had seen you half-knocked out in a bush on the side of a road. Your dignity was long gone.

“Don’t mock me for it, but I was going to try and find one of those flowers…”

“The True Love’s Bloom?”

“Yes and don’t you dare make fun of me for this, I get married in a week and I’m emotionally sensitive.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting your feelings and anyway, that’s what I was looking for as well.“ 

It took you a moment for it to sink it, before you turned to look at him.

“Really? I didn’t take you for the romantic type. Which poor soul got roped into marrying you?”

“I could say the same to you. Here I was, being nice to you and you repay it by insulting me? I’ll have you know, I was the one who got roped in. I think I would’ve had assassins sent after me if I refused one more time.”

You laughed and turned back around, but as you did, a small alcove in the nearby rock caught your eye. It was becoming darker by the second, but even with the fading light you could make out the shape of…

“Over there!”

The man paused and gave a sigh.

“This better not be a ploy to get me to put you down, so that you can do something potentially life endangering again.”

“The flowers! Over there!”

He turned his head and gave a small laugh of surprise as he spotted them too.

“Well, what do you know? Maybe being forced to carry you back down this hill was a blessing in disguise?” He wandered over to the sheltered patch of dirt, where, hidden from most prying eyes, were two perfect flowers.

He placed you down next to them and began rummaging through his bag, pulling out two shovels.

“I’ll have you know that I actually brought a shovel, I don’t need your equipment!”

“Really, how surprising. Did you bring a pot as well?”

“...”

“...”

“... can I borrow one of yours?”

“Well, I’ll have YOU know…”

And as your bickering echoed across the mountaintop, bringing life to the abandoned trails of a once vibrant mountain, the flowers almost seemed to grow just a little bit more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Baizhu, what’s that flower sitting over by the window? I’ve never seen anything like it before?”

“Ah Traveler, you have a good eye! It’s called True Love’s Bloom. However, those are actually two flowers. My spouse and I planted them in the same pot when we got married all those years ago and they have grown together over time, becoming so intertwined we can’t separate them. I like to keep them close to me at work, to remind me of my dearest.”

“Your spouse? I didn’t know you were married!”

“You didn’t? I could’ve sworn I had mentioned it? Well then, I shall have to tell you the story of how we met. It all started with them stupidly trying to climb a mountain…”

Guys, this was so much longer than I intended wtf. This was supposed to be a SHORT STORY to go with two other arranged marriage stories. I seriously need to throw my plans out the window at this point. Anyway, I love writing sassy characters, even though im shit at banter, so hopefully this is good/funny?

[bebemoon]

look for the name: ALDEN

@aunayau

jean paul gaultier blush crinkle silk chiffon rib knit yoke skirt, c. 2ooo's

mm6 maison margiela long-sleeve bardot-neckline semi-sheer bodysuit in beige color

madomorpho "key to a heart" blush ribbon + antique key pendant necklace

maison martin margiela artisanal ballerina bag (made of reconstructed vintage pointe shoes), likely stolen from margiela's atelier in the mid/early 2ooo's

valentino powder pink ribbon lace-up ballerina leather ankle boots in black

[old-stoneface]

some medieval outfits for morgan, dai, perry, gwen and gwaine :) notes under the cut 👇

morgan's outfit is scandinavian inspired, that kind of northern medieval period with a layered woolen dress and a tablet woven belt. i gave her no extra jewelry and no accessories because she would see no use in being dressed up, and i wanted to ensure a utilitarian vibe. her shoes would be made of variegated leather. she's wearing a very period appropriate head covering of a simple cotton or linen fabric, pinned into place over her hair, which would be braided and secured around her head.

dai's outfit is very much the typical sort of general british medieval peasant/artisan garb. i desperately wanted to give him the hood that defines the working man's silhouette from that time period, and of which we have archeological evidence of existing :) hes wearing a layered tunic, one with long sleeves underneath a sleeveless one, secured at the hip with a decorative belt, and tights underneath - this is a very distinctive medieval outfit, perhaps one that you would instantly recognize as mid to late dark period. his shoes would also be leather, but i made them more fashionable than morgan's, because he seems concerned with aesthetics.

perry has the honor of wearing on of my personal favorite items of medieval clothing: the quilted gambeson. this is based on an actual 14th century reconstruction, the sort of long, tunic type of padded armor that would typically go underneath chainmail, but i opted to give them a more freeing outfit for more agile movement. the hat is an accurate head covering too, but because they're an athletic youth, i made sure their hair was showing in some capacity. underneath, they have sturdy leather shoes and tights. what's interesting to me about this ensemble is that it looks androgynous on them, cementing their gender identity to the modern eye, but historically, this is a men's outfit. their spear is also referenced from an image of a 13th century weapon.

to be honest, i don't have much to say about gwen's outfit. this was referenced from an illustration of 13th century french fashion. i really wanted to give her a regal, subdued look, the kind of identity she would assume in order to sort of fly under the radar, as it were. nothing that grabs too much attention but it does accentuate her good posture and noble status. the head covering is a veil over a hat with a hair covering underneath, hiding where she would have braids pinned up in the back. her shoes would be probably a sturdy linen with a leather sole. her belt would either be embroidered fabric or fashioned out of cloth and metal ornamental discs.

gwaine has one of my other favorite outfits. to me, his identity as a rambling traveler is pretty important, so i gave him traveling clothes. he's got the wool cloak clasped at the shoulder with the typical brooch used in this time period, a simple, long sleeved tunic, trousers under that with tights beneath those, and leather/cloth shoes that are secured by leather strips. his hat - maybe my favorite part - is referenced from a reconstructed landsknecht hat. it is definitely a little silly in its color and construction, very eye catching as were most landsknecht adornments. it shades the eyes, its a statement piece, and with the mismatched nature of the rest of the outfit puts together an image of a well-traveled man who spends his days on the road. for accessories, he would also have a short sword on his belt, and a lute strung over his back.

thanks for reading :) hope u found it interesting!!

[lamaisongaga]

FASHION CREDITS: LADY GAGA BY ETHAN JAMES GREEN FOR VOGUE US OCTOBER ISSUE

I was highly expecting for Lady Gaga to land a Vogue cover and here we are, covering the October issue of the American Vogue. The photoshoot, which is highly inspired by her role as Harley Quinn in "Joker: Folie à Deux", was lensed by Ethan James Green.

Styling: Alex Harrington, makeup: Sarah Tanno-Stewart, hair: Frederic Aspiras, nails: Kim Truong using Glitterbels, tailors: Hailey Desjardins and Egle Paulauskaite, set design: Marla Weinhoff.

Photographed during her stay in Paris in July this year, the cover photo showcases Gaga in the blue embroidered trompe-l’œil synthetic hair coat made in collaboration with hairstylist Gary Gill from Balenciaga‘s 53rd Fall/Winter 2024 Haute Couture collection!

An iconic silhouette by now, Gaga rocks a pair of her favorite Marc Jacobs Fall/Winter 2016 Kiki buckled black leather platform boots!

The mixture of couture, high-end designers and emerging talent is immense in this editorial as Gaga wears a grunge-inspired Hodakova Fall/Winter 2024 argyle knit sweater in this hauntingl beautiful shot.

Hyperventilating is an UNDERSTATEMENT. I fell in love the moment John Galliano sent out his girls down the dramatic runway and ever since I was hoping to catch Gaga in one of the designs. Never would‘ve thought she‘d even get a whole custom look!

Gaga poses in custom Maison Margiela Spring/Summer 2024 Artisanal Haute Couture.

White cotton caisetted cape cut with the memory of an ulster coat, worn over a patinaed knitted silk bodysuit matching Gaga’s skin tone underpinned by a corset covered in jersey and a silicone hip prothèse.

A taped reverse swatching hat in white foam and caisetted cotton, patinaed knitted silk stockings and gloves, and custom Christian Louboutin for Margiela white patent leather criss-cross platform pumps with torn stocking overlay.

One thing you should know about Gaga is that she loves to layer multiple runway pieces to merge a whole new look.

From Dior‘s Resort 2025 collection, a love letter to Scotland, she wore a knitted argyle sweater with cut-outs, a tartan wool maxi dress which she layered underneath a mesh and metallic lace dress, and some argyle socks.

The Hodakova sweater makes a return, this time accessorized with an antique hand-painted plaque, ruby and diamond in 18kt gold brooch, and a smoky quartz and pearl in 18k gold brooch, both from Tony Duquette!

A shoe that changed herstory. Vivienne Westwood‘s infamous Fall/Winter 1993 Super Elevated Gillie platform shoes make a return, acquired from Pechuga Vintage. You might remember Gaga wearing a boot version of these for her 2010 Elle spread!

A firework of excitement ransacked my body when I first found out that Alessandro Michele would depart from Gucci to head over to Valentino as the new creative director.

LG is, to my knowledge, the first celebrity to rock a piece from the Resort 2025 "Avant Les Debuts" (Before the Beginning) collection – a pale yellow chiffon mini dress with high collar, tiered ruffle puff sleeves and floral sequin embroidery all over!

Paired with custom Maison Margiela distressed stockings and custom Christian Louboutin platform heels.

Gaga is working it in a bi-colored statuesque coat seen on Yohji Yamamoto‘s Fall/Winter 2024 "A Seamless Parable on Cubism" runway.

Rather than canvas and paint, Yamamoto’s medium is fabric and more than ever, it felt like he let his instinctual side take the wheel. Case in point: He said he couldn’t talk about how he’d arrived at these silhouettes. "During fittings, I can change, I can touch", he said with finality.

The look was crowned with a custom Vivienne Bow hat made of voluminous moiré fabric by emerging designer Andrew James!

One of the "Antwerp Six" designers, Dries Van Noten bid farewell earlier this Summer and decided to leave the fashion scene with a bang by celebrating his legacy at his final Spring/Summer 2025 collection where this epic embroidered cashmere coat is from.

Both her plaque-embellished black beanie...

...and double-breasted boxy oversized coat with peaked lapel are from The Row's Resort 2025 lookbook!

Gaga is the first ever person to wear this vintage Givenchy by Alexander McQueen Fall/Winter 1999 "Execution of Lady Jane Grey" Haute Couture chinoiserie embroidered silk balloon sleeve coat and bespoke black dress, both sourced from LILY et Cie.

In 1999, McQueen was going through, in his own words, "an emotional turmoil" both professionally and personally. But instead of relieving himself, he ventured into his own despair to understand his inner demons more poignantly. This painful journey led Lee to Paul Delaroche’s tragic but beautiful 1833 painting, "The Execution of Lady Jane Grey".

Like a painter to a blank canvas, McQueen filled an empty room with extravagant offerings: romantic silk ensembles with floral embroidery, 16th-century fur-trimmed tunics, luxurious velvet coats, as well as the designer’s signature leather suits, cowl-neck dresses, and even a heightened-for-couture bouffant piece that paid homage to his plaid.

Dialing in on his inspiration, McQueen presented his clothes not on models but on fiber-glass-headed mannequins that emerged from trap doors in batches, as if the audience were in an art gallery rather than a fashion show.

It's almost unrecognizable but Gaga is draping this Chanel Fall/Winter 2024 Haute Couture black silk taffeta opera coat around her torso. This piece, which served as the show's opening number, features a ruffled neck, bejeweled buttons and a voluminous cut.

[quietblueriver]

For your prompts, Avatrice, "do you ever regret it?"

Canon compliant and angstier than originally intended but with what I hope is a hopeful-ish ending. Thanks so much for the prompt. <3 Haven't been able to write them in a while for some reason and hoping this gets me back to it.

-

Beatrice sloshes the amber liquid gently, working to cover the artisanal sphere of ice taking up most of the room in the glass. It’s a moderately successful endeavor, but to get it all the way over the top, she’d need to put more force behind her movement, which she won’t do. 

She may be a sad, semi-drunk ex-nun, but she still has her manners. She's consuming outrageously expensive whisky from an outrageously expensive piece of crystal on an outrageously expensive sofa. She knows better than to put any of them at risk. 

She takes another sip instead, giving up on her game for the moment and leaning her head against the leather cushion behind her, turning to face Jillian, who has finished with her own drink and is making her way to join Beatrice. 

The ball of ice in her glass clinks against the wall of her tumbler as she settles on the other side of the couch, folding bare feet underneath herself. Her hair is down, not messy but no longer in its perfect updo, and Beatrice can see her shoes placed neatly against the wall near the small bar where she’d put together their drinks. 

Dipping her head toward Beatrice’s hand, she asks, “Alright?”

Beatrice hums and nods. It tastes terrible, like smoky mud, and it coats her tongue and leaves a film in her mouth, burning at the back of her throat with every sip. She imagines it’s about as far from a lemon drop as one can get, which means it’s exactly what she wants right now—liquor that feels less like an indulgence and more like a punishment. 

And if she has another glass or two, it may provide a separate kind of punishment tomorrow morning, although it’s not like she has anywhere to be, particularly. 

She’s staying at Jillian’s invitation, unwilling to go back to Cat’s Cradle at the moment and uncertain, since she formalized her renunciation, what her place there would be if she were to return. 

Mother Superion had been clear that she had one, if she wanted it, but she’d also said, voice filled with a kind of understanding that nearly broke Beatrice in half, “Take your time.”

So she is. It has been eleven days since Ava went through the portal, and Beatrice has spent most of those days with Jillian, making herself useful where possible, keeping up with her training, and disappearing every once in a while to sit quietly in a dark room and/or cry under the warm water of the shower until she can’t breathe. Jillian never asks where she has gone, and she returns the favor, continuing whatever task or project they are working on without comment when Jillian returns from an absence with red eyes and a raspy voice. 

They’ve discovered in their time together that it’s easier for the both of them to eat with the other, and better for the both of them to avoid drinking alone, so their evenings have processed generally like this: an easy dinner in Jillian’s kitchen followed by drinks in her favorite study. They talk or they don’t, and as one or the other finishes a second or third drink, they reach tacit agreement to say goodnight, leaving glasses on the small table by the door for Jillian’s staff to handle so that they can repeat the process the next night. 

Tonight is no exception. They’d had white wine with dinner, a bottle between the two of them at the bar in Jillian’s kitchen. They’d picked over a spread of bread and cheese and fruit with little interest but enough sense and determination to make it through more than half before packing the rest away. Now they’re sipping alcohol from Jillian’s impressive collection, settled into what have become their standard seats. 

Nearing the bottom of her glass, Beatrice feels curious, masochistic enough to poke at her own bruises, so she speaks. “My father has a penchant for Japanese whisky. Or he did. I have no idea if it’s still true.” She takes another sip. “He taught my cousin all about it. Lined bottles up in his study. He took him to Japan for his sixteenth birthday for a distillery tour. I think he would have done the same with me, if I hadn’t been…” There are a hundred of her father’s disappointments she could use to finish that sentence. She shrugs. “Me.”

Jillian’s watching her, head tilted against the cushion to match Beatrice’s, glass resting on the arm of the couch. 

“It was Ava who first got me drunk.” Her heart pounds as she thinks about that night, the press of Ava’s body against hers, her breath on Beatrice’s neck uneven with laughter. “Lemon drop shots.” And it’s almost easy to smile, to feel the phantom drip of liquor down her chin, see Ava’s head thrown back in delight. 

“Sweet,” Jillian says. 

“Hmm.” She takes another sip of whisky, coats the memory in the bitter present. “She wouldn’t let me start with wine.”

A snort. “I believe that.”

They finish their glasses in silence, Jillian standing and offering a hand, taking Beatrice’s tumbler back to the bar for a refill. Her eyes wander the room, catch as they always do on pictures of young Michael, framed drawings, shelves of colorful board books and thin paperbacks. The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Goodnight Moon. A whole line of titles in The Magic Treehouse. 

Following her gaze, Jillian says, “He loved those.” Beatrice takes her newly-filled glass back and Jillian arranges herself in her corner again, pulling a pillow into her lap, her shoulders a little less rigid than they were half an hour ago. “Read them over and over. He was so eager for adventure.” She meets Beatrice’s eyes and smiles, small and half-over before it can settle, which is how Beatrice knows it’s real. “They were similar that way, I think. Are,” she corrects quickly, but Beatrice doesn’t flinch at the past tense tonight. 

Jillian keeps the present for Beatrice, a kindness she can no longer provide to herself—they had both seen the remnants of Michael’s body on that floor—and Beatrice is grateful, but she also understands the slip. Understands it more and more with each hour. 

“Ava had a map. I have it now.” Tucked in her closet, something they’d brought from Switzerland. A fold-out map meant for primary school students that they’d found mixed into a bucket of postcards at the thrift shop Ava loved. “She put stickers everywhere she wanted to go. Different shapes and colors based on where each place was on her list. The whole thing was covered.” 

Jillian’s lips pull up at one corner, and they ease back into quiet, Beatrice caught in memories of big brown eyes watching the countryside on a train ride, a red swimsuit, gasps and clapping hands at the farmer’s market. Ava, alive and so eager to stay that way. 

She lets her eyes focus on the creased spines of Pirates Past Noon and Dingoes at Dinnertime, High Tide in Hawaii, thinks of gold stars and blue triangles on a brightly colored map. 

She weighs the question, lands on yes, with a qualifier. “Please feel free to tell me to fuck off.” 

Jillian turns her body fully toward Beatrice, resting her glass on a bent knee and raising an eyebrow. 

“Alright. I will.” 

Beatrice puts her glass on the table, pulls socked feet onto the sofa and wraps her arms around her knees. “Do you ever regret it? Letting them go, I mean.”

Jillian finishes her whisky in one long pull, sits the glass next to Beatrice’s. 

“Every day.” 

Later, after they leave their empty tumblers on the table by the door, Jillian goes to the shelf and pulls Dinosaurs before Dark, rests her palm on the cover for a moment before tucking it under her arm. 

In her own room, Beatrice fumbles through her closet to find the box she hasn’t been able to open yet. She still doesn’t, not really, takes a deep breath and lets her eyes slide over the contents without processing them until she sees what she wants. 

She spreads the map across her bed, straightening corners, and looks at the key Ava made in the bottom left, the hierarchy of colors and shapes. By the time she goes to bed an hour later, she has a list, a few possible first stops. She dreams of Ava and of places she’s never been. 

[hottiesbooted]

Marcella in Red Leather Over The Knee Fernando Berlin Boots. 

[pattern-recognition]

every time i see someone call a factory laborer an ‘artisan,’ which is a distinct class differentiated by a unique relationship with means of production, it further proves that, lacking class analysis, the only distinction between the two are: A) based on the cost of commodities produced and B) racial. Italian factory workers producing boules of mozzarella are ‘artisans,’ Pakistanis crafting leather shoes are ‘sweatshop workers.’

[faaun]

as someone who is also trying to overhaul their entire wardrobe after throwing out fast fashion pieces,, do you have any specific brands you like, advice on places to get clothes for long-term wear, etc? ty!!

thank you for asking! this is a long post but it's been my life for a bit now so i would suggest reading through it to skip the learning stages that i went through the hard way! there is some important and useful info here :) brand recs at the end

i would suggest looking for vintage or secondhand clothes first and foremost bc that's how you can find quality pieces for a reasonable price :)

if you want pure longevity, synthetics like polyester, nylon, elastane, etc will last not only your lifetime but your grandchildrens' too. they can be quite comfortable sometimes BUT:

they will likely break down in hundreds of years

they are NOT biodegradable and so will break down into microplastics and toxic microfibers

for me and a lot of others, you will notice the difference in quality in synthetics vs fabrics like cotton and virgin wool. i refuse to buy synthetics for the above reasons but also bc they just Feel Worse idk how to explain iykyk (tip especially valuable for autistic ppl)

brands: all depend on style so look for the styles you like/want to dress in on pinterest, then track down the original designer of the dress! from there you can search irl places or plug the designers into apps like:

vinted: cheaper vintage or second hand clothes from all sorts of brands

vestiare collective: more high-end, pieces are authenticated and usually in great condition

GEM: a gem of a site truly, accumulates all the finds from your search from different websites like ebay, etc

depop: honestly not the biggest fan but can be good sometimes! make sure to buy vintage/secondhand and ask sellers for the brand to not get sold an aliexpress dupe for 100 bucks

vintage shops: especially good for accessories like belts and ties. vintage shops usually have much better stuff than charity shops

kilo sales: THE BEST PLACES IRL in my opinion i got a 2k+ virgin wool coat for £20 . honestly in my experience kilo sales are great. check out Worth the Weight if you're in the UK!

remember that brand history matters! for example vivienne westwood has a great reputation as luxury punk but the pieces produced in recent years are actually very low in quality, defintely not worth the money for a lot of people! pay for quality, not just the name :) same goes for jean paul gaultier's recent pieces imo.

additional VERY USEFUL tips:

the standard zipper used by most of the companies making your garments is YKK. if you look at any zipper you're wearing rn and inspect it closely chances are you'll see YKK engraved on it. before buying a piece check that it has opti or riri zippers - this is some indication of a higher quality

one of the first things to do before buying a piece is to immediately check the materials it's made of!! the tag detailing materials is usually towards the bottom of the garment . i immediately dismiss things that have higher than 5% synthetics but i'm just rly picky w materials

EACH MATERIAL HAS DIFFERENT USES !!! BUT GENERALLY: virign wool is the best kind of wool, full-grain leather is better than most other kinds of leather, mulberry silk is better than other kinds of silk

brand recs:

yohji yamamoto, yehufan (i own a skirt by him!!), marina eerrie, ann demeulemeester, jw anderson, solovair for shoes (much better than docs), maison (martin) margiela (esp artisanal line 0), miu miu (i wear their beret i thrifted for £15 almost every day), valentino esp pre 2021 , lemaine , undercover older pieces , early raf simons , ...honestly there's a lot, if you need more send another ask or DM :)

p.s. if u can go runway shows etc go to the sample sales afterwards sometimes the pieces there are gorgeous !! but sometimes v pricey :')

all recommendations and advice, don't take my word as gospel and defintely do your own research + formulate ur own opinions ! hope this helps ♡

[ceruleanmusings]

you had me at pie - mickames

@raging-violets @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson

Mickey lifted a scoop of pale peach ice cream, turning it upside down at the last minute so the first taste on her tongue burst with flavor rather than drag along the dull swipe of metal.

It didn’t disappoint; the familiar punch of vanilla coating her tongue lit up her taste buds, lingering as it melted and sunk into the crevices. A few moments later the winter peach made its presence known, sharply cutting through the thick vanilla with its sweet flavor, tinged at the back with a hint of floral aftertaste.

It was heaven.

Her eyes slipped shut, lips curling upwards around the spoon in her mouth. A happy, bouncing hum sounded at the back of her throat and her shoulders wiggled partially in happiness and partially in time with the fizzy pop track playing over the speakers of Bianca’s, an artisan ice cream shop James found in Pasadena.

Opening her eyes and letting the sweet treat melt against her tongue, Mickey set her spoon back in the near-empty cup. She flexed her feet, allowing the toebox of her shoes to drag the barstool closer to the shiny wooden counter, no doubt adding another scuff to the royal blue leather. The shiny wood bit at her elbows when she learned forward, propping her chin up on her palms. Her eyes focused past the backwards chalky lettering painted on the windows to the streets outside, awash in spilled gold from the slow-setting sun.

Her eyes followed a few passersby flittering from one side of the window to the other: a family of four with a little girl bouncing along behind her parents and older brother, pigtails swinging; an older man and woman shuffling along, a weathered hand grasping his elbow; a woman with a pink lob rolling by on a bright red bike; two guys with muscles so large their arms swung wide, hinged at their broad shoulders; a man in a leather jacket, large, long flowing black skirt, dark complexion and a pop of orange lipstick.

And then there was James.

Her eyes drew to him as if on autopilot. It used to be against her own volition; the charisma and magnetism emanating from him had a hold on her she didn’t want to touch let alone acknowledge until recently. (Two and a half weeks ago to be exact). But now she couldn’t help herself.  Especially when he shifted from side to side of a tree across the street, pulling a branch down as held his extended arm this way and that, stretching his lips out in a strange exaggeration of duck lips meeting Blue Steel. He always knew how to make her laugh, even when he didn’t know she needed it. Especially when he didn’t know she needed it.

A gaggle of giggling girls came up to them, all hesitant and shy until he flashed a smile and nodded. Probably affirming their double checking if he was, indeed, James Diamond of Big Time Rush. Their shrieks and repeated mantras of “Oh my god, oh my god” pierced through the glass while they shifted from side to side, stuck between wanting to get up close and wanting to keep composure. Mickey knew the tread of that tightrope.

She propped her cheek up on her palm and watched as they switched off between holding glossy magazine pages out for him to sign and fumbling with their phones for pictures. His smile remained, his stance relaxed, and he looked every girl in the eye, causing them to bounce and shriek and flutter their hands, as if ready to take flight.

And she got it. She liked to think she kept her emotions reined in but that feeling, that look of awe on their faces, the admiration glowing like neon in their eyes, she knew it well. They bloomed in the spotlight he pointed towards them. She’d only just gotten used to the glow herself. It didn’t blind her as much as it used to.

Each one got their own turn, speaking with him about something she couldn’t hear. Maybe about their music, maybe about his hair, maybe about the weather. Either way they all stood with rapt attention, hanging onto every word, the rosy blush on their cheeks contrasting the stars in their eyes. And once they all got their pictures in and started shuffling off with waves and gushes of thanks and clutched phones, they were nearly undone all over again at his little two-finger wave and wink.

If she’d been sitting with any of her friends, she knew what they’d say: that he fed his ego and he’d be riding on the high of their attention for weeks. But, then again, they didn’t look at James the way she did. Or maybe he didn’t let them see what she now witnessed: the soft look in his eye, the triumphant pump to his hands, the satisfied smile gracing his lips as he watched them walk off.

God, he was beautiful.

She at the remaining bit of ice cream, gathered up their empty cartons, threw them out, and went to the counter to pay. The woman in the striped apron behind the counter flashed her a smile and informed her it’d already been taken care of. Of course, it was.

James locked eyes with her when the bell rang on her exit and butterflies erupted in her stomach with the spotlight turned on her. By the time she’d crossed the street and reached him, she basked in its glow and swore it’d be embedded in her skin forever.

“What?” he asked with a little laugh as she gazed up at him.

The words nearly leapt off her tongue until she snapped her lips together and held them back. She tumbled them through her mind, trying to find a filter, and came up empty. One eyebrow scrunched, just slightly. Would it be so wrong to just say what she thought? People always said honesty was the best policy, but would this be too far? They were barely a thing. Brand new and she didn’t want to rush it (no pun intended). But then, James never had a problem stating his thoughts and feelings, even before they were reciprocated. He’d always said what he felt, not caring about anything past the veracity behind his statements. People could take or leave it. And if he was brave enough to be forthcoming, why couldn’t she?

“You’re beautiful,” she stated, the words floating along her bated breath, heart thrumming.

James’ long lashes fluttered against his blink and his smile opened his face, allowing sunbeams to all but squeeze out between his teeth. “You are, too.”

“Thanks.” Heat crawled up her neck and settled in her cheeks and she fought the strong urge to rebuff his compliment. “But I meant with your fans.” She nudged his arm, and they walked down the street. “And, you too, but mostly them.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” he said, waving his hand.

“It is to them.”

“I know. It’s just…well, I love doing this.” He didn’t need to say that, she knew in the way his eyes lit up, the way he left himself on the stage, the way his heady words struck her. “But I also know we wouldn’t be here without the fans. At the end of the day, it’s not about us, it’s about them. It’s about putting on a show for them and giving them a place to just—”

“Exist?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “I get it.”

“I knew you would.” He bumped her arm and she bumped him back, stumbling into his side. The solid feel of the length of his arm against hers made her course correct and clear her throat. “Did you like Bianca’s?”

“Yes!” She nodded so hard she battered her swinging locks away from her face. “It’s amazing! I didn’t know they had so many flavors! Especially that habanero pepper one? I gotta try that next. Maybe I can make a series of it. Try a new flavor each time and review it.” She made a face. “Guess I’ll have to try the peach one again then, if I want good pictures to go with it.”

James pulled out his phone, swiped his thumb a few times, and held it out to her. “Would this help?”

Mickey stared at herself on the screen, frozen in time from a half hour before when she first tasted the peach ice cream. The hanging lightbulb lamps from above nearly lit a halo over her head, casting a golden glow on her skin which lit up her eyes like little fires glowing from within her, putting the freckles dotting her skin on display. “Actually, yeah, that’s perfect! Can you send this to me?” She’d nearly given the phone back when the screen shifted to another picture of her from a week before, happily eyeing a crazy decorated milkshake jar. “What’s…this?”

James’ large hand took over the screen, pulling the phone out her hand. “It’s nothing.”

“No wait, James, seriously.” She took the phone back and began swiping, pic after pic sliding to show her in the middle of eating a cookie, a soft pretzel, a brownie, a macaron, a pastry, and other treats in various flavors. She nearly collided with an older woman while she walked, quickly uttering an apology to her and then James when she pressed against his side. “Is this all me?”

“It’s nothing!” She shot him a look and he blew out a breath, running a hand though his hair. “Okay. It’s, um…every time we’ve eaten somewhere I…kind of take pictures of you.” He hastily added, “Not to be creepy!” and took his phone back, shoving it into his back pocket. “It’s just…you’re always so happy when you’re trying something different, and I think…it’s one of the times you’re really pretty so…”

Her eyebrows crinkled. “When I’m stuffing my face?”

“When you’re enjoying the moment.” His shoulders bounced in a shrug and he murmured, “I like to think it’s also ‘cause I’m there.”

It came out of her without needing to think about it. “It is.” Grins burst on their faces at the same time and when they bumped against each other again, she slipped her hand in his before the ricochet sent her too far away from him. The warmth of his skin against her palm sent her pulse skittering. “How about next time we go to that pie place? Pie Palette? We can get pie flights, where they give you slices of their top five flavors of the week.”

“You had me at pie.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a date.”

[savingsfinder]

Understanding Sustainable Fashion

In an era where environmental consciousness is on the rise, sustainable fashion has emerged as a key player in the fight against climate change. Sustainable fashion refers to the creation of clothes, shoes, and accessories in environmentally and socio-economically sustainable manners. This includes minimizing waste, reducing carbon footprints, and ensuring fair labor practices. With the fashion industry being one of the largest polluters globally, the shift towards sustainability is not just a trend but a necessity.

The Importance of Sustainable Fashion

The fashion industry's impact on the environment is staggering. From the excessive use of water and energy to the pollution caused by chemical dyes and synthetic fibers, the traditional fashion model is unsustainable. Sustainable fashion aims to address these issues by promoting practices that are kinder to the planet. This includes using organic materials, recycling and upcycling garments, and adopting ethical production processes. By choosing sustainable fashion, consumers can make a positive impact on the environment and support brands that prioritize social responsibility.

Top Sustainable Fashion Brands

Patagonia Patagonia is a pioneer in the sustainable fashion industry. Known for its outdoor apparel, the brand has committed to using recycled materials and organic cotton. Patagonia also donates 1% of its sales to environmental causes and encourages customers to repair, reuse, and recycle their products.

Stella McCartney As a luxury fashion brand, Stella McCartney has set a high standard for sustainability in the fashion world. The brand avoids the use of leather and fur, opting instead for innovative materials like recycled polyester and organic cotton. Stella McCartney also focuses on reducing waste and promoting circular fashion through its "World of Sustainability" initiative.

Eileen Fisher Eileen Fisher is dedicated to creating timeless, sustainable fashion pieces. The brand prioritizes organic fibers, recycled materials, and fair labor practices. Eileen Fisher's "Renew" program encourages customers to return worn clothing, which is then cleaned, repaired, and resold or transformed into new designs.

People Tree As a fair-trade fashion brand, People Tree is committed to ethical production and sustainability. The brand works with artisans and farmers in developing countries, ensuring fair wages and safe working conditions. People Tree uses organic cotton, natural dyes, and traditional handcraft techniques to create beautiful, sustainable clothing.

Reformation Reformation is known for its trendy, eco-friendly fashion. The brand uses sustainable fabrics like TENCEL™, recycled cotton, and deadstock materials. Reformation also tracks its environmental footprint and offsets its carbon emissions, making it a favorite among eco-conscious fashionistas.

Everlane Everlane focuses on transparency and ethical manufacturing. The brand works with factories that meet high standards for fair wages, reasonable hours, and environmental impact. Everlane uses sustainable materials like recycled polyester and organic cotton, and it provides detailed information about the cost and production of each item.

Tentree Tentree is a brand that plants ten trees for every item purchased. The brand uses sustainable materials such as organic cotton, recycled polyester, and TENCEL™. Tentree aims to plant one billion trees by 2030, making it a leader in both sustainable fashion and environmental activism.

Allbirds Known for its comfortable and sustainable footwear, Allbirds uses natural materials like merino wool, eucalyptus tree fiber, and sugarcane. The brand is committed to minimizing its carbon footprint and has become a popular choice for eco-friendly shoes.