#Wild Carnations

[bandcampsnoop]

4/26/23.

Yes, Record Store Day has lost its initial charm. But I still love it - it helps me fill in my record collection (The Verlaines "Bird Dog") and helps me discover new bands - Wild Carnations were mentioned a few days ago.

It also helps me appreciate bands I never appreciated or even thought to give a listen. I'd always thought of Romeo Void as 1980s new wave. I knew that ONE song "Never Say Never" with its lyric "I might like you better if we slept together."

Record Store Day saw the LP release of "Live from Mabuhay Gardens: November 14, 1980". This San Francisco, California based band was much more post-punk than new wave (at least initially). Think Pere Ubu, Magazine, Gang of Four, Blondie or early The Cars.

This is released by Liberation Hall.

[catihere]

Why does nobody talk about how, in the Sword of Summer, Blitzen was literally wearing a green carnation at his lapel? C’mon, everyone. This is not a headcanon, this is barely even coding. It’s right there on page. Blitz is canonically gay

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Nothing will be more hilarious to me than the party's - specially Ben's - outrage about Alex's sneaky reference to William Shakespeare slowly fading as they remember that half of the NPCs are actually historical figures. Like they are genuinally going "what's this assassin's creed? You put Shakespeare in the gift Augusta Leight gave to our honorary party member Oscar Wilde while waiting for Ada Lovelace and Nikola Tesla to see if we can talk to the brain of Charles Babbage about the mission Albert Einstein teleported us to? Shakespeare a whole historical person? "

[whyeverr]

We are eating good today!

[heaveninawildflower]

Wild Strawberries and a Carnation in a Wan-Li Bowl (circa 1620) by

Jacob van Hulsdonck  (Flemish, 1582–1647).

Oil on copper.

www.nga.gov/content/ngaweb

Wikimedia.

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Lit Hub: How Oscar Wilde Created a Queer, Mysterious Symbol in Green Carnations

In London in 1892, everybody—or, at least, everybody who was anybody—was talking about one thing: green carnations. Nobody was sure, exactly, what wearing a green carnation meant, or why it had suddenly become such a deliciously scandalous, dazzlingly fashionable sartorial statement. All anybody knew was that one day, at a London theater, someone important (stories differed as to who exactly it was) wore a green carnation, or maybe it had been a blue one (stories differed about that too).

Green carnations may have had something to do with sexual deviance. They may also have had something to do with the worship of art. And the whole thing somehow had to do with Oscar Wilde, the flamboyant playwright, novelist, and fame-courting dandy who—as he never tired of telling the press—put his talent into his work but put his genius into his life. Wilde lived his life as a work of art (or let people think he did). The affair of the green carnation gives us a little glimpse into how.

One story about what exactly happened comes from the painter Cecil Robertson, who recounts his version in his memoirs. According to Robertson, Wilde was keen to drum up publicity for his latest play, Lady Windermere’s Fan. A character in the play, Cecil Graham—an elegant and witty dandy figure who rather resembled Wilde himself—was ostensibly going to wear a carnation onstage as part of his costume. And Wilde wanted life to resemble art.

“I want a good many men to wear them tomorrow,” Wilde allegedly told Robertson. “People will stare…and wonder. Then they will look round the house [theater] and see every here and there more and more little specks of mystic green”—a new and inexplicable fashion statement. And then, Wilde gleefully insisted, they would start to ask themselves that most vital of questions: “What on earth can it mean?”

Robertson evidently ventured to ask Wilde what, exactly, the green carnation did mean.

Wilde’s response? “Nothing whatsoever. But that is just what nobody will guess.”

Within days, carnations were everywhere. Just two weeks later, a newspaper covering the premiere of another play, this one by Théodore de Banville, reported a bizarre phenomenon: Wilde in the audience, surrounded by a “suite of young gentlemen all wearing the vivid dyed carnation which has superseded the lily and the sunflower,” two flowers that had previously been associated with Wilde and with fashionable, flamboyant, and sexually ambiguous young men more generally.

A little over a week after that, a London periodical published another piece on this mysterious carnation. It is a dialogue between Isabel, a young woman, and Billy, an even younger dandy—heavily implied to be gay—about the flower, which Billy has received as a gage d’amour (the French is tactfully untranslated) from a much older man. Billy shows off his flower to the curious Isabel with the attitude of studied nonchalance: “Oh, haven’t you seen them?…. Newest thing out. They water them with arsenic, you know, and it turns them green.”

The green carnation is something desperately exciting, understood not by ordinary society women but by Brummell-style dandies, shimmering with hauteur. It’s deliciously dangerous, perhaps even a tad wicked; the carnations are colored with poison, after all. It’s also, in every sense of the word, a little bit queer.

The green carnation’s appeal as a symbol of something esoteric persisted. Two years after the premiere of Lady Windermere’s Fan, an anonymous author—later revealed to be the London music critic Robert Hichens—published The Green Carnation, a novel that appears to be very obviously based on Oscar Wilde’s real-life homosexual relationship with the much younger Lord Alfred “Bosie” Douglas.

The Green Carnation, though it is certainly a satirical exaggeration, can tell us much about this strange, new class of young men cropping up not only in London but also in Paris, Copenhagen, and so many other European capitals during the nineteenth century: the dandy. Inheritors of the mantle of Beau Brummell but far more flamboyant in their affect—John Bull would certainly have turned around to look at them in the street—these modern dandies didn’t just live their lives artistically.

These dandies believed—or at least made out that they believed—that the highest calling a person could have was a careful cultivation of the self: of clothing, sure, and of hairstyle, but also of gesture, of personality. And behind that belief lay a kind of bitter nihilism, as poisonous as arsenic itself. Nothing meant anything, unless you decided it did. A green carnation could signify homosexual desire, or aesthetic dandyism, or “nothing whatsoever,” depending on your mood and what you felt like conveying to the world that morning.

(Full article)

[hey-sherry]

We were talking about random The Awakened stuff on discord today, and I fell down the memory lane that is my folder with TA pre-release & concept images that I'd saved. And then I noticed something...

This flower brooch is in no less than five different outfit concepts, none of which are in the game. But it sure seems like the artist wanted to say something. My first thought was "green carnation", having dismissed a violet because it's certainly not one.

@children-of-cordona provided this historical snippet:

Oscar Wilde popularised the Parisian trend of wearing a green carnation as a symbol of gay identity when he asked friends to wear them on their lapels to his play Lady Windermere's Fan in 1892. Worn on the left lapel, the green malmaison carnation became a 'code' for men who were attracted to other men.

Hm, hmm! Something to think about.

[softdadleon]

Portrait of Majima with green carnations, I'll be making a Kiryu one to match in the next few days :)

[goblinbeetle]

[teruel-a-witch]

that time Steve took his 'partner' to his aunt's as his wedding date :) (after they got dressed together at his house ;))

Danny: what's with the fluffy green flower?

Steve: I just like it.

Max: ah, Detective Williams, I believe Commander McGarrett is doing homage to the tradition started by Oscar Wilde when a green carnation was worn by men who ...

Steve: Max, I beg of you, please shut it.

[cloaksandcapes]

Wild Magic Carnation

Wondrous Item, rare

“A glass sculpture of a carnation, this red colored piece of art isn’t as brittle as you’d expect. Infused with an essence of wild magic, it constantly flairs with power and gives off faint ribbons of light.”

Every day at dawn this magic item creates an effect from the Wild Magic Surge Table, trapping it inside. As an action you can choose to release the effect on a target creature or location of your choice within 30 feet of you. If a new dawn arrives and an effect is still in the magic item, it expels the previous effect on the nearest creature (including you), or centered on itself if there is no target.

Join us in Discord or on Twitch every Mon\Wed\Fri to create new D&D Homebrews like magic items, monsters, or subclasses. If you want to support Cloaks & Capes check out our Patreon for 664+ magic items, 14 monsters, 200+ tokens, maps, player options and more for just $3\month.

We add over 30 new items a month and 1+ monster a week.

[leliest]

Are you really that obvious?

I don't think we talk about the deleted scene from hlv enough guys

this here, where Magnussen is being even more disgusting than usual but also- the flowers

first thing he points out is literally the bouquet of green carnations from NSY. But it gets worse. The last mentioned bouquet is a "black wrath from C-Block Pentonville". Do you know who was a prisoner in Pentonville, in Block C, in 1895? Oscar fucking Wilde. I'm currently a bit mindblown over this, because this is textbook, seriously.

[lemonofthevalley]

.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

[after the world was saved]

Zolf: Wilde?

Wilde: Yes, Zolf?

Zolf: Weren't your flowers magical? How come you have one right now?

Wilde: *wearing a green carnation* Oh this one right here? Well the wonderfull art of dyes.

Zolf: Oh okay.

Wilde: : 3

Zolf: ...

Zolf: Wilde?

Wilde: Darling?

Zolf: How exactaly are you dying it?

Wilde: ...

Wilde: Nothing much.

Zolf: Oh, okay, like other plants and stuff right?

Wilde: Plants and stuff? You have such a way with words. But yeah, something like that... almost.

Zolf: Almost?

Wilde: ...

Wilde:Yes.

Wilde: Is just, you know...

Wilde: Arsenic.

Zolf: NO!

[llyfrenfys]

Had a fantastic time at Aberration Cymru on Saturday! A smashing event with so many brilliant contributors.

I wore this green carnation I made to the event - it's made from upcycled green ribbon cut into petals and carefully shaped into carnation petals with a pair of scissors and a lighter. I actually craft a lot and have many artistic pursuits, but don't talk about them a lot here. Thought I'd share this one because I'm quite happy with how this turned out!

Green carnations are an old LGBT+ symbol - Oscar Wilde famously wore one in the late 19th Century! I thought this would be fitting to sport at this very historical Aberration evening!

[worthyrepose]

i'm not young enough to know everything