#best of marilyn monroe

[rkiverrs]

our fairy marilyn monroe 💐

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but also marilyn monroe random icons (like if you liked/saved. pls)

[thevisualvamp]

Cinematic moments

[makenna-made-this]

BAWKtober Day 10 - It Clucken WIMDY!

Gale force wings

[succulentsiren]

WHICH DARK FEMININE ARCHETYPE ARE YOU?

[121231212i]

Honkai: Star rail | Robin

[mikasasrippedtoenail]

Why Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

Women and their jewellery have a very intricate relationship. The tale of the nagging wife troubling her husband for new jewellery is as old as time. It is a reflection on a woman's vanity. Folk tales mock her ignorance of worldly ways and her frivolous obsession with being adorned. She is redundant to a mere crow that admires shiny things. However, this begs the question, is a woman's desire to collect jewellery as absurd as men paint it to be?

The world has forgotten that until very recently, women were forbidden from owning any form of capital. Be it property, money or even small inanimate objects, they belonged first to her father then her husband. The roof above her could be taken away on a whim with a clock's tick. In these trying times, jewellery emerged as a beacon of financial security for most women of the globe.

Mother of pearls, diamond earrings, gold necklaces etc. were-- although not in print-- under a woman's reign of control. They had an impressive resale value and could last several generations under proper care. More so, they could be secretly sold usually without paperwork to acquire a woman some monetary freedom. If her husband gambled all their assets away, atleast she'll have enough money to put some food on the table for her children.

Jewellery has often times saved people from calamities. Unlike land, jewellery is easier to sell. In case of an emergency, a large sum of money could be obtained without much trouble. Jewellery are an excellent heirloom. The wisdom of grandmothers is passed down to granddaughters to come, allowing them some command over their own life.

Jewellery is a form of investment just like land and shares. Its value is diminished solely due to its association with women. It is not a woman's vice but a survival tactic against the suffocating patriarchy. Jewellery is something she can have under her own name--no matter how small or how futile-- it is her sole capital, her best friend.

[mipiya]

The vision

[robbie556]

Angel dust fanart

Diamonds are a girl's best friend ;]

Ik husks thirsting over this

Reference

Proofs/process

No diamonds :'(

[wh0-is-lily]

Marilyn Monroe during filming of "The Misfits," 1960s

[candidcouture]

diamonds are a girl’s best friend 💎

[mckinleygirl98]

JFK IN ITALY

A short story. Content warning for.. drugs and pasta. Dedicated to my great grandma who was born in Italy. My kween.

Based on a true story. But not really

Please read to the end, you won't regret it

John Fitzgerald Kennedy, positively baked, was walking around stranded in Italy. He didn't know how or when he got there but he remembered seeing the Leaning Tower of Pisa fall over and he took some stupid pictures of the Colosseum or whatever it was called. Someone roofied him the night before and he hadn't slept with a girl that wasn't his wife in four hours.

After doing some government weed, he was hungry, and because he was the prez, he could have whatever he wanted. He loved him some fettucine alfredo, and why not have some made by the PRESIDENT OF ALFREDO, Alfredo de Lelio, who it was named after, obviously. Anyway, they got him in right away because he was the prez.

As soon as Alfredo got word of JFK, he set to work making the best alfredo a prez could eat.

"Ciao, ciao," he said, cheerfully, coming out with a steaming hot plate of alfredo. By now, the paparazzi was here. They were all trying to snap a piccy up JFK's skirt. He was trying to light a cigar. He was having a really bad headache because he hadn't slept with a girl that wasn't his wife in four and a half hour.

"Uh, err, uh, my cigar won't light, uh," JFK said, feebly attempting to light the match, but the match obviously wasn't working. So he struck it on the tablecloth, and the tablecloth caught on fire. The authorities on the scene steered the paparazzi, the chef, and the president to another table that wasn't in flames. Alfredo was unfazed.

"Your fettucine, signor," he said smoothly, pushing the big giant cart with the big giant plate next to the table.

JFK was very pleased with it. That is, until Chef Alfredo stuffed his big fat fingers into his goddamn fettucine alfredo!

"You're, uh, stuffing your, er, big fat fingers into my goddamn fettucine alfredo!" JFK exclaimed in anguish. This was the worst thing that would ever happen to him.

"You no like?" replied Chef Alfredo, then proceeding to shove the handful smack into JFK's face. It was very uncomfortable and he had a fork, which he very well could've used

"Uh, yeah, I like, uh, but I really could've..." his voice trailed off ."CAN YOU PLEASE STOP WITH THE FETTUCINE?!" There was fettucine alfredo on the tablecloth, fettucine on his tie, and his cigar tasted like fettucine. But his request was heeded and now they just kinda stared at each other awkwardly.

"Whatsa matter, John boy, you no like-a dapasta?" Alfredo chuckled, breaking the silence as JFK thought about how he hadn't slept with a girl who wasn't his wife in 4 hours and 55 minutes.

"No, no, it's er, uh, great, uh. What kind of pasta is it, uh angel hair? Because, err, uhh, I'd recognize Marilyn's golden locks even in, uhh, alfredo sauce." He winced.

"You open up-pa your moth for fettucine, unless you like-a your pasta al presidente." Alfredo laughed at his own joke which gave JFK a chance to wipe off his face with the tablecloth (thus having him moved to another one again) and order something strong. Alfredo clapped his hands together and called for more pasta.

"You like?" he asked.

JFK twirled it around on his plate with the fork, giggled, and blushed. "Uh, yes."

Everyone clapped and cheered because he liked the pasta.

"Now, uh, I could really go for some, er uh, pizza," he said.

Everyone booed.

So anyway, JFK took his pizza to-go and went back to his hotel room, where Marilyn Monroe was. But Alfredo had roofied his alfredo, and he laid down in bed and went to sleep instead of, well, paying Marilyn a visit. He almost died in his sleep from lack of sleeping with a woman who wasn't his wife for 6 hours. This was probably the worst thing that would ever happen to him.

In the middle of the night, he woke up, and got in his open top convertible to have a pleasant drive around in the Dallas sunshine. The date was September 11, 1881, and he was going to the Pan American Exposition to see a play.

As he drove around in his convertible, he noticed his friend Franz Ferdinand, also in his convertible.

"Hello, Franz!" he called.

"Hello, JFK!" said Franz. "How are you?"

"Oh, yanno, just drivin' around with the top down."

"Me too! See you later, Mr. Prez!"

"See you later, Mr. Archduke!"

FIN

don't take this seriously

[newwavesylviaplath]

i had a heart attack today. i want her so bad.

[matchtheminrenown]

historical costumes + orange

[claysworstenemy]

young bloberta puppington aesthetic board .

[hollywoodsdeaddd]

DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL BEST FRIEND˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡°

[popping-your-culture]

Check out a little history lesson on The Sweater Girl over at the Wordpress site. The post is jam-packed with photos, and here’s just a sampling of them: