#cornelia st

[babybabymerrychristmas]

midnight rain sounds like cornelia street!!!

[saltair-and-webweaves]

running down to the riptide.

she shall be called women - may sarton/what the water gave me - florence + the machine/exiled - edna st. vincent millay/letters to home - sylvia plath/inkheart - cornelia funke/never let me go - florence + the machine/vincent van gogh/march - louise glück/eragon - christopher paolini/never let me go - florence + the machine/harbor - john ajvide lindqvist/riptide - vance joy

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Two little girls watching the village blacksmith at work, 1937. Greenwich Village, that is—33 Cornelia Street.

Photo: E.M. Bofinger via NYC Municipal Archives

[jomiddlemarch]

That it alone is high fantastical

“Oh, Mother, you’ll never guess! You’ll never guess in century of guessing!” Rilla cried out, sounding so much as she had as a little girl, for a moment, Anne could convince herself the War had never happened and that somewhere in Rainbow Valley, Walter sat writing a crown of sonnets in his leather-bound journal, his face dappled by the light, back braced against the bole of a birch tree, his grey eyes unfocused as he searched for his next word.

There was still a white stone in the graveyard. Shirley was in Toronto, having refused (albeit politely) to return to Glen St. Mary, much to Susan’s dismay, and Jem walked with a pronounced limp, his uneven gait announcing him as much as Mary’s voice.

There was a mystery there, Jem and Mary Vance, but Anne couldn’t see any way through it and Gilbert, lying beside her in bed, both of them tired but sleepless, told her not to try. Jem had seemed less removed, less falsely cheerful lately, and had begun talking about the medical course again, perhaps a specialty in obstetrics, a hospital practice. As far away from men dying in battle as he can get, Gilbert had observed and Anne had recalled Joyce’s little face, white as a mayflower blossom, and held her tongue.

Rilla, remarkably, given her exuberant entrance, had done the same in the absence of Anne’s response. Miss Oliver had left Ingleside some weeks ago, so there was no one to suggest Rilla either elaborate or calm herself, as her likeness to a whistling copper tea-kettle was increasingly pronounced.

“If I’ll never guess, dear, you must tell me,” Anne said. It was a relief that Rilla could still be the young girl she ought to be, for all that she wore Ken Ford’s diamond ring on her finger and was capable of a brisk, warm matronliness when it came to raising Jims, now reserved for the writing of letters to his new British stepmother and clucking over the missives she received.

“Faith Meredith has eloped!”

Anne did admit to herself she would never have guessed that, because for all her imagination, she wouldn’t have guessed something impossible.

“But, Rilla, Jem is with your father today, doing the Lowbridge rounds. Susan and I packed a lunch with plenty of pie for Dad and some of that flapjack Jem took to after being in England,” Anne said. He’d been in hospital in England, recovering from the injuries he’d sustained at the Front, in the prison camp, during his escape, none of which was spoken of. Only flapjack and stewed tea and how no cook in England was a patch on Susan and that you may tie to, uttered with some semblance of his old roguish humor.

“I didn’t say she married Jem, Mother!” Rilla exclaimed. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. She had a look of Gilbert at his most delighted about him, an expression Anne remembered from their childhood. Anne opened her mouth to speak but Rilla interrupted.

“It’s Bertie Shakespeare Drew! Faith Meredith is Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare!” Rilla said.

If Anne hadn’t already been sitting down, she would have, suddenly and gracelessly. As it was, the shirt she’d been mending fell from her lap.

“That’s—why, Rilla, are you sure?”

“I heard it directly from Mary Vance,” Rilla said, lifting a hand to stop Anne from speaking. “And Miss Cornelia Bryant. You know Miss Cornelia has no taste for gossip. Miss Cornelia’d heard it from Mrs. Meredith—”

“Poor Rosemary,” Anne said, before she could stop herself.

“Why poor Rosemary? I suppose they thought Faith and Jem would make a go of it, at least, perhaps Reverend Meredith and Mrs. Meredith did, but the War’s done funny things to people and Faith and Jem, they just didn’t fit any longer,” Rilla said. Sometimes, Anne felt Rilla reminded her of someone she couldn’t name and realized her youngest daughter spoke with the wisdom Anne’s own mother might have had. Plenty of folks in the Glen would find such a thought eerie, but Anne was comforted, for all that she ought to be the one offering a thoughtful explanation rather than receiving it.

“I suppose I meant the surprise, an elopement—”

“They must not have wanted to wait. Or were afraid someone would try to talk them out of it. Bertie’s mother maybe,” Rilla said.

Rosemary or her father, Anne thought. Jem, if he’d been given the chance, perhaps. Perhaps not, if Rilla was correct.

“Bertie Shakespeare Drew,” Anne said. “I remember when he was born. He’s just Jem’s age.”

“He’s not much like you remember him, Mother. He’s all tall and stalwart now and they say he’s going in for engineering, that he learned quite a bit in France, found he had a talent for that sort of thing. And his ears don’t stick out quite so much anymore,” Rilla said.

“There’re more things on heav’n and earth,” Anne said, mangling the quote a bit, fairly certain Rilla would not correct her. “D’you suppose Faith calls him Bertie? Or his full name—it’s quite a mouthful.”

Queenly Faith Meredith, the undisputed beauty of Glen St. Mary, who had a sense of humor but also a sense of herself as beyond any teasing, now to be Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare Drew. Anne smiled to herself and thought how Mary Vance would find a way to make Jem grin over it all. She’s lucky to get him, Mary would say, reversing the order the Glen would have assumed, and Mary, canny and unexpectedly kind, would have the right of it, perhaps.

Susan would be quite outraged and the pastry of her next pie might suffer for it, but Gilbert had always taken an unchristian glee in Susan’s outrage and wouldn’t mind the pastry being a bit heavier. It was still the best piecrust on Prince Edward Island, now that Mrs. Rachel Lynde was no longer living to give Susan a run for her money.

“Miss Cornelia said Faith was heard to call him Will, when she spoke to her parents. It’s after Shakespeare of course, and because he was so determined they marry,” Rilla said. 

“And because Faith wanted to,” Anne said. She wasn’t sure if she meant the elopement or the name, but it was all of a piece.

“Miss Cornelia said they’d gone to New York for their honeymoon and she hoped Faith didn’t come back with a bunch of silly Yankee airs but Mary and I didn’t think that was likely,” Rilla said, sitting down beside Anne, picking up the shirt and starting to sew.

“She didn’t come back from England any different, after all,” Rilla said.

“Except that she didn’t marry your brother,” Anne replied.

“D’you know, Mother, even without the War, I don’t think they’d ever have gone through with it, Faith and Jem,” Rilla said. “It was, how shall I put it, like a childhood fairy tale, the honorable knight and the maiden fair, all sorts of adventures they had in Rainbow Valley. They were always going to grow up. We all were.”

Not Walter, Anne’s heart said. Not Joyce.

“I’m glad of Ken’s name, anyway. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t elope for anything. I want our families around us, as many as we can get, even if we have to wait. We’re rather good at that,” Rilla said. She’d finished the one shirt and picked up another. She peered at it, frowned. “I can’t think what Dad does to his clothes—”

“I’ve made up a thousand stories to try to explain that and I still don’t think I’ve figured it out,” Anne said. “Some things, my darling girl, are beyond explanation.”

This one's for @freyafrida because I didn't manage to squeeze Faith/Bertie Shakespeare into my Jem/Mary fic...

[ladyamanda123]

Arches Part 2

We left off with the Cornelia St apartment….

But another big connection to arches is the fact that Karlie is from St Louis which is of course best recognized by its famous arch…

And I came across even MORE Karlie posting with arches….

So while there isn’t a direct link, I do find the Koincidences here to be pretty big! Perhaps this is simply something Karlie loves. Maybe because of the St Louis arch connection.

I did find the fact that the “best friend chapel” had an arch that looked like Karlie’s house to be hilariously suspicious.

I don’t think this was any sort of Taylor masterminded thing…I just thought it was funny and wondered if the person responsible might be a Kaylor 😉

[foxes-that-run]

The way she's mashing up songs to change the meaning of the songs since Miami. Idn

I think she’s doing a great job of finding songs that are about the same thing with different points of view. I think it’s a comment that songs are a point in time rather than a definitive statement on something. In Betty speeches throughout the tour she’s said she wrote a song that was what she felt for (it used to be 7) 4 seconds. She’s saying two opposite songs can be about the same thing/time.

Cornelia st - the fear of losing someone, in the canon this is supposed to be weeks into a relationship which is frankly weird. The song makes most sense in an on/off contending that it has and will end.

The bolter - an acknowledgment that Taylor has run from relationships, that unlike Cornelia & it’s hopeful warmth it’s a perfunctory admission that she ends things.

Together this is books ending, both are about a relationship ending, both the fear of it happening and a kind of defiant realisation that she is the one that ends things. I

DBATC is about not being about to move on, the relationship was broken, she gave up and tried to put it behind her but can’t let go and wants it back

The Great War is about a relationship that’s been similarly ravaged but here they succeeded, she thought she lost the person but found she didn’t but they’ve been through it

Together DBATC x The Great War are both about losing a relationship and contemplating the outcome of keeping it or losing it. She ended on the line “I asked the traffic light if it would be OK and it said I don’t know” which summed up the dichotomy of the mash up. It’s one of my favourite lines of hers and I think she said she also likes that line once but I can’t find the reference now.

[charmingsaturday]

on that note..... this mashup finally gave me the push I needed to commit to change my url..

wishidnevergrownup -> charmingsaturday

[swiftlysimulation]

“One More Time”

Cornelia Parker

St Pancras International Station, May 28 - November 2, 2015

Cornelia Parker’s work, One More Time, in 2015, was a working replica of the station’s DENT London clock. Reversed out in black and silver, it became reminiscent of a photographic negative. The black clock was suspended 16 metres in front of the original, so for those alighting from the trains the original face will gradually appear eclipsed.

One More Time was conceived to invoke meditative thoughts on the passage of time, life and mortality: “The clock is the most conscious focus of a railway station, a dominant force. Everyone is watching the clock, checking if they are late.

[taylorrepdetective]

and how are we?

Wondering the context of this ask.

Like in general? Getting over bit of a flu. After traveling last week. Tired.

With regards to Taylor? That surprise song set was really something and got me thinking of fall 8 years ago. And also rolling my eyes at some of the takes.

With regards to the looming feeling of dread that the election on Tuesday is bringing? Not well anon. Not well.

[gaylor-gremlin]

[tsmerch]

what are your top 3 favorite and least favorite merch pieces and why?

This is so hard. I am struggling. My subjective answers:

Favorite (because I wear/use them a lot and like the design): green rep crop long sleeve, i know places bomber jacket, and the evermore guitar.

Least favorite (because they did not live up to my expectations): blue and red stars around my scars pullovers, grey exile pullover, blue color block midnights sweatshirt/sweatpants.

But I think products like the cardigans and the snow globes are objectively great products, they’re just not things I personally am interested in.

[babybabymerrychristmas]

so, i know y'all think cornelia st is a gaylor song and honestly, would y'all be mad at me if I said I didn't really see it? like, i know the arguments for why y'all thinking it's only about karlie but to be honest with y'all, there is a cornelia st in london (i just looked it up, and it's in the islington boroughs, which are apparently wealthy af according to google) and honestly, the whole second verse feels like it's about joe (it feels like mastermind and delicate and cruel summer all in one)... and like "i snuck in that summer every night just to seal my fate" (if she moved in with joe and he's always lived in primrose hill... it's like a 13 minute drive lmao wow i didn't even realize that one). I just feel like cornelia st is about her time in london, but with a callback to her time in new york? and we know that she was hiding out in london in early 2017 and so i feel like it makes much more sense for the song to be about the fear she feels losing joe, cause it almost killed her the last time she lost someone on cornelia st?

[mulderscully]

i noticed the difference between me and other swifties: i don't think taylor's songs in terms of like. they're about her. all her songs are about me and/or my blorbos after the first listen.

[ilovefandoms]

Me thinking that all the surprise songs this weekend were going to be from SN 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡 as if she wasn't literally in K's home state, and of course she sang dorothea

[9w1ft]

remember when u predicted her playing cornelia street in august?👀

wait i did?? i swear everything has been a blur and a half 😭

[highscal]

where were you when 5sos announced a tour? i was literally on cornelia street @nostalgiabones