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ranticore · 4 days ago

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All your settings are crazy interesting to think about and currently I've been taur-brained. sorry if you've already answered this somewhere else, but who are the ones manufacturing their clothes? Or their mane and hoof care products, etc? Would it be humans who were already making similar stuff for normal horses, or are there some centaurs also in the business making more specialized and informed products (like shoes or horse-pants????) Surely there's an economic power imbalance in there somewhere between whoevers making the necessities and who's got to buy them.

(either way, being good at diy is probably a plus for them )

I mentioned it a little bit in the first clothing post i made but the examples given (aside from the classical dress) are all modern - basically, small tailor shops in Ironwall will bulk-order horse blankets from wholesale (usually international) retailers and modify them on-site for resale to centaurs, sometimes doing a same-day custom job for someone if they need it. this is considered kinda cheap, and not in the realm of formalwear/barely business casual. think t-shirt and jeans level stuff. but like you said, in a lot of cases centaurs would buy their own horse rugs to modify at home (basically you need longer straps that articulate at a different part of the body than stock). these specific alteration shops are usually some of the first businesses to pop up in cities/towns outside Ironwall whenever emmigrant centaurs have a decent presence, alongside herbivore food shops.

so yeah absolutely as a marker of class & a requirement for formal occasions, there is bespoke tailor-made clothing made to fit their bodies from the start and it is EXPENSIVE. especially the big classical style gowns, there's a lot of fabric there and it has to be cut well so that it doesn't entangle the legs or restrict the torso, and have enough petticoat/underskirt/etc so that there'll be no accidental flashing on a windy day. now modern commercialism/capitalism hit Ironwall in a very strange way - many centaurs remember the exact moment the first mcdonalds opened in ironwall in the 90s, as human resident % had gone up and suddenly Ironwall was a market and a consumer base.

(this one got so long that even I will concede to a readmore)

most people unable to afford the tailored stuff in the early 20th century would buy big cuts of curtain fabric and sew their own gowns for formal occasions/serving on a budget and those gowns would see use for decades. companies saw the potential to offer factory/sweatshop produced off the rack centaur fast fashion that resembled the very intricate classical gowns without any of the tailored properties/thick skirts/flexibility in the torso/etc. this is landfill junk and wears out quickly. in many cases it's a cheap human bodice/t-shirt/etc sewn to the bottom gown bit, which means there's a weak seam right at a point of great articulation, and the clothes will catch/snag in odd places because the muscles underneath are different too. in terms of the economic power imbalance - yep. it's a market but a small one, without much competition, and multinationals can easily outcompete the centaur tailors who offer services at middle or low price brackets.

and of course. there's always poverty tourism. you can buy fully bespoke, made-for-centaurs, designer... rebadged horse blankets, for the athleisure/sports-luxe fans

because centaurs as a market share are not very prominent still (that is changing tho), most of their own businesses are small and dynastic - one group running the same mane oil business since the 1700s, churning out the same basic product for a small but dedicated audience. these types of businesses rarely advertise and if they do it's by putting a tiny text-only ad into the paper with their phone number inserted. they are woefully ill-prepared to compete with external businesses turning their eye to Ironwall in search of new markets. but what they have that large multinationals don't is parochialism and loyalty to a brand, and access to a more readily exploited centaur work force. many will turn around and do a little song and dance "don't you want to support small centaur businesses? we'll go under if we have to comply with modern labour laws!"

because at the heart of centaur businesses is that old purifying work ethic, and because ironwall is 1. conservative and 2. largely self-governing, their labour laws are antiquated. they still have workhouses. and there has always been a lack of interest from the wider country's government to intervene because ehh it's the Ironwall culture to work hard, isn't it? and do we really want to insert ourselves into centaur business? humans actively seeking work in ironwall, then, make up two broad groups - those who seek to exploit these relaxed labour laws by opening a business, and those who know that 'poor' in other places is 'middle class disposable income' in Ironwall (like first worlders becoming 'expats' or 'digital nomads' in places with cheaper costs of living than their wealthy home nation - easily leading to gentrification).

Anyway so that's all the modern perspective; all of this applies for the other beastmen as well like the harpies and so on, though they have to live with the additional layer of most of their laws and products being about horses.

Historically centaur clothing was made by hand in the home, usually by the women in a social group, and made robust enough to last several generations of wear (with repairs). Because clothing would be passed down from mother to daughter, this resulted in colt bachelor bands being so fucking naked all the time. In traditional enclaves and pre-Florian settlements, a stallion who was accepted into his new herd would be gifted handmade kinetic clothing (bells, ribbons, feathers, anything that enhances the movement) by his new wives and his ability to keep his gifts looking nice would be judged for a set period of time (if you lose a bell that's bad luck buddy), after which he was supposed to return the favour by hand-carving them beautiful tail ornaments (as discussed in my historical clothing post - the ornaments would appear similar to welsh lovespoons in design)

this tradition got trampled over with the introduction of Florian's penal laws because tail ornaments could not be worn when the tail was fully covered and attempts at kinetic fashion fell flat when your nice trot is all hidden up by what's basically a giant tablecloth. but there does remain a custom of women giving men gifts to test their commitment (to heterosexuality), with the expectation that it'll be paid back with something nice and handmade. but commercialism comes for us all eventually.

finally on the topic of shoes, iron shoes are not super common anymore but in the victorian era, rope shoes were manufactured in the city to cut down on noise levels when streets were becoming full paved/cobbled.

they were not very good for the feet and required regular replacement because the rope would wear down, but that meant business for farriers was booming and became almost guaranteed when the famously and hilariously corrupt high councillors and lord protector began to pass increasingly strict anti noise pollution laws.

#sorry i just fucking rambled and it's barely related to what you asked but there ya go #ironwall

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hunterrrs · 1 year ago

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Brian Dumoulin may be one of the most interesting men to wear black and gold in quite some time, as he's got so many passions outside of hockey, like travel, food and wine. The 31-year-old shared some of his must-haves, both on and off the ice, at home and on the road.

Wine books, magazines and podcasts

One magazine I've subscribed to that I really like is called Noble Rot. It's from London, where they have two different wine bars and a wine store. I really like the stuff that they write. It's really, really cool.

For podcasts, there hasn't been as many recently. But through the course of like 2010 to 2021, there was a podcast called 'I'll Drink to That!' It's a guy named Levi Dalton. He basically interviews everyone, from people who work in restaurants, winemakers, wholesale distributors - anyone in the wine trade. They talk about how they got into wine. With the winemaking, it can be very technical, where they talk about decisions with the barrels, decisions with when to pick, how their vineyards are different than the other… so it's very intricate. I wouldn't say it's for a beginner (laughs), but it's really good information.

For books, the last one I read is called 'Terrior Footprints' by Pedro Parra. He's sort of an expert. It's a book about wine and how when you blind taste, you kind of taste soil in the glass, and that's a good way to blind taste because you can really pick up different notes if you know where it's grown in.

Grassl universal glasses

I use those normally. I also use Zalto universal glasses for whites, Zalto burgundy glasses for pinots and lighter reds, and Zalto bordeaux glasses for heavier reds

Loose leaf imported tea

I do a lot of green. Lingering Clouds is a green tea that I really like. Then there's Gaba, which is good for after meals, for digestion. That still has a little caffeine, so I don't try to do that towards nighttime. I always have loose leaf chamomile before bed. I'll usually do that around 7-7:30 PM, or I'm going to the bathroom all night (laughs).

Snacks with a bit of a kick

I mean, it's not healthy or anything, but I like salt and vinegar chips. Those get me, my wife too (laughs). We'll have a bag and all of sudden, it's gone. It's easy to finish a whole bag. I also like Smart Sweets sour gummy bears [the green package]. We have them on the team plane.

The stovetop

My favorite kitchen utensil is honestly the stovetop. I like cooking on the stove a lot better, I'd say, just because grilling is a little bit harder to control. I'll do steak on the stovetop, but obviously I'll cook burgers on the grill, and stuff like that. But I like just trying a bunch of different things on the stovetop.

Broom and dustpan

I love to clean and sweep, it's soothing. I like the broom and dustpan. I'm old fashioned. That's all I need.

Beanie

That's just because I don't want to comb my hair. It's just laziness. That's one thing that I'm not into, is clothes. I'm not a clothes guy.

Lacrosse ball

I like to roll out on that for recovery. I really like that, it's easy. It's really good for your legs and your hips, to get into the small little muscles.

michelle giving us what we need: dumo, man of culture

#me 🤝 dumo: loose leaf teas #brian dumoulin #pittsburgh penguins

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jrbcollectioninc · 2 years ago

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#Solid, mid-rise, calf length Capri leggings #Visit us JRBCOLLECTION.COM . . . . . #Activewear #leggings #wholesaleonly #bikershort #sportwear #wholesaleclothing #Sale #Fashion #JRBCOLLECTION #Los Angeles #Favorite #Miami #new York #Clothes #Onlineclothing #Smallbusiness #shop #wholesale #wholesaleclothing #wholesalefashion #wholesalers #fashiontrends #fashiondistrict #onlineboutiques #boutiqueclothing #styleblogger #smallbusiness https://www.instagram.com/p/CoiDTR-L44j/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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clotpolesonly · 17 days ago

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What A Day This Has Been, What A Rare Mood I'm In

why, it's almost like being in looove!! i'm so very fond of this ship and i can't BELIEVE nothing has been written for it already 🥺 so when i found the Smash The Champagne event on dreamwidth, i jumped on the chance to write their first fic!!!! and it also just so happened to end up on my TRC rare pair/kink event bingo card, which was extremely fortuitous 😂 (also fortuitous that someone reminded me i signed up for this cuz i wholesale forgot, LOL) | Gansey/Matthew | 2.2k | Gen | Post-Canon | Established Relationship | Anxious Gansey | Matthew is Good at Feelings | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | (also on AO3)

Gansey was having A Day. That was the way his mother put it, at least, when she experienced moods like these. A Day—capital letters—was one where the mind simply was not up to containing itself and thus either spilled out haphazardly and made a mess all over everything or took a leave of absence and left behind nothing at all of substance to fill the space between one's ears. Either way, it was conducive to neither productivity nor restfulness.

Gansey's mind had not quite made itself up as to which route it was going to take for this Day, but the unproductive restlessness had already made itself emphatically known. It had taken him three tries to eat something that could reasonably be called breakfast because he'd kept picking things up and then putting them back down, forgetting that none of it had made it into his mouth. Now there were bran muffins and granola bars and cereal bowls scattered around Monmouth. Knowing him, they would probably be there until the end of time. They were just part of the decor now. He could build an entire aesthetic around it. Haphazardly Maintained Diner At Closing Time Chic would be very popular on pinterest.

Not even the prospect of his boyfriend coming over had managed to pull Gansey out of his mood, at least partly because he had forgotten about the planned rendezvous. Or, more accurately, he had forgotten what day it was and that time moved, mostly, in a linear fashion and thus said rendezvous was quickly approaching. By the time the door opened, Gansey was quite engrossed with staring uncomprehendingly at the pieces of cardboard he was almost certain would form a small building if he were so inclined as to pick up the glue gun that he'd left somewhere that was not here. Sadly, the building had not built itself in the last hour or so.

The door clanging shut startled Gansey rather more than he would have liked to admit. Helen had once accused him of being horse-like—easily spooked—and he hated to prove her right, but the last two years had been rough on his nerves. Perhaps he should embrace his equine nature. Blinders as a fashion statement! Yellow, perhaps, to match his favorite sweater.

A hand descended onto Gansey's head, tugging gently on his hair. Gansey obligingly tipped his head backward until a familiar, grinning face came into view.

“Hey, dude,” Matthew said. “'Sup?”

Gansey closed his eyes and sagged back against Matthew's legs. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Matthew ran his fingers through Gansey's hair again, unconcerned about being used as a structural support. He was tall and sturdy; it was a common occurrence. He hummed blithely. “There's always something. Right? Can't be, like, nothing-nothing or else you wouldn't be alive.”

That made some amount of sense. There was always something. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Oftentimes, it was many things at once, overlapping in such a way to ensure that there were always at least two or three somethings of varying magnitudes. Gansey couldn't remember if he'd left his glue gun plugged in or not. Monmouth was not on fire yet, so he presumed he hadn't, but he couldn't be sure.

Matthew's hand had trailed downward, abandoning Gansey's hair to squeeze his shoulder instead. The muscle ached something fierce; was he tense? He was. He hadn't noticed. The kneading of Matthew's strong fingers hurt in a good way.

“Is that my shirt?”

Gansey opened his eyes to look. There, blazoned across his own chest, was a large cartoon leprechaun. He flushed.

“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, it appears so. I must have grabbed it without noticing. I wasn't feeling particularly on the ball this morning. I hope you don't mind.”

When Matthew laughed, Gansey felt the vibrations of it through his whole body. The hand on his shoulder slid down a little further, far enough to give the leprechaun's face a fond pat where it rested over Gansey's right pectoral.

“Why would I mind?” Matthew asked. “I think it suits you. You should wear this every day.”

He folded himself over Gansey's body far enough to kiss his cheek. Gansey could feel the smile pressed into his skin and he tried valiantly to smile back, but the way Matthew's forehead creased when he pulled back told him he didn't do a very good job of it. Matthew tried again with an upside-down kiss that landed a little clumsily on the side of Gansey's mouth. When that didn't elicit the desired response either, he unfolded himself and nudged his knee into Gansey's back to get him to sit up properly. Gansey did so with a sinking feeling already in his stomach that stayed stubbornly put as Matthew scooted the cardboard pieces away so that he could sit cross-legged directly in front of him.

“Hey,” Matthew said again, once he was settled. His eyes were bright in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the wall of windows. They didn't have quite the same intensity as Ronan's, or the sharpness of Declan's, but they were warm and they didn't waver from Gansey's face when he asked, “For real, bro, what's going on? Are you okay?”

Because there was nothing going on, and because there were many overlapping things going on, and because he hadn't eaten a proper breakfast and was wearing someone else's shirt, and because the tiny building had not built itself and the glue gun was AWOL, and because of the yawning hole nibbling away at his chest that he'd long since learned to live with, and because Matthew had come in smiling and no longer was, and because this was A Day, Gansey said, “I'm fine.”

For a moment, Matthew simply looked at him, warm eyes roving Gansey's features like they were a particularly inscrutable bit of academic text. The next, the crease in Matthew's brow deepened into a proper frown. His voice was not harsh when he spoke, because Matthew was not prone to harshness, but there was a sharpness that did not come out often.

“Please don't lie to me.”

Gansey flushed again, shame this time instead of the softer spread of embarrassment. “It's not—” His mouth closed again because it was a lie and he was not fine. His mind had spilled out and there was nothing left behind, not even the words to explain. It was simply A Day. Humiliatingly, his eyes stung with the sudden threat of tears. He hastily stuck his fingers underneath his glasses to press against them, as if that might force them back.

There was a shuffling noise and something bumped against Gansey's knees—Matthew's knees, now butted up to his to allow Matthew to be closer to him. Strong, gentle fingers took hold of Gansey's other hand.

“No, don't cry!” he said. “I'm sorry, I just— Don't tell me you're okay if you're not okay. You don't have to do that. I don't want you to.”

Gansey waited until the clench in his throat loosened enough to free his voice before he turned his hand to lace their fingers together. He tried to choose his words carefully; they were dangerous on the best of days, he knew, and everything felt precariously balanced on Days. “I don't want to burden you, Matthew. You shouldn't have to worry about me. We shouldn't both have to be upset about nothing.”

Matthew frowned again and Gansey braced for the metaphorical blow, for Matthew to take his hand back and leave. But he didn't.

“Maybe I want to worry about you,” he said instead with a stubborn light in his eye that was pure Lynch. “You don't just get to blow me off and decide what I worry about and what I don't. I get enough of that from Declan, remember?”

Gansey did remember. He'd gotten back from his gap year road trip with Blue and Henry to find the Lynch family in a truly woeful state, and the worst fracture had been between the eldest and youngest of the brothers. Matthew with his burgeoning understanding of himself, struggling for independence, and Declan, clinging to how they used to be like it might keep him from drowning in all the changing tides. Gansey wasn't quite sure how or why it had come about, but he had become Matthew's confidante, the non-familial shoulder to lean on, the sympathetic ear when he needed to feel heard.

“I'm sorry,” he said, the hole in him threatening to swallow him up. “I didn't mean to—”

“I don't need you to be sorry, Gansey,” Matthew told him. “I just need you to talk to me. Okay? Don't shut me out. Tell me what's wrong.”

Gansey shook his head, helpless. “I don't know. I don't know how to say it.”

Matthew didn't seem perturbed by this. He shrugged a little and a wry smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. “You can always just say you feel like shit.”

A laugh caught Gansey by surprise. The force of it seemed to pop some kind of balloon in his chest and suddenly his lungs could expand. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I do just feel like shit.”

“That's okay.” Matthew quickly banished his smile. “I mean, it's not okay, because you feel bad! And feeling bad sucks! But it's okay to feel bad and, like, just say so. You don't need to write an essay about it, you know what I mean? Sometimes a day just sucks. Say la vee or whatever.”

The French was shamefully mangled, but it made Gansey smile for the first time all day. “C'est la vie indeed.”

Matthew's grin returned in full sunny force. “Yeah, that! Now, do you wanna cuddle or not? I bet that would make you feel a lot better. Or we could make out! That might work too. I'm game for either. We could order a pizza? Also, why is your glue gun under your bed? That seems like a weird place for it to be.”

By the end of this little monologue, Matthew had stood up and dragged Gansey to his feet as well. They were already halfway to the bed by the time Gansey thought to say, “Pizza sounds nice.”

“Then we'll order pizza,” Matthew said easily, phone already in hand to put in the order. “Like, five of them, so you can have some for later.”

Gansey allowed himself to be nudged into sitting on the edge of his bed. “I do not need five pizzas.”

“You might need them later, though.” Matthew still had a hold of his hand with the one not currently in use. “It never hurts to be prepared. Like a boy scout.”

“Even a boy scout couldn't find time to eat five whole pizzas before they went bad,” Gansey pointed out, half-heartedly grabbing at Matthew's wrist to pull his phone screen into view and make sure he wasn't actually ordering that. “May I remind you that my mini fridge isn't big enough to preserve all that.”

Matthew cheerfully ignored him. He finished the order with a flourish, put his phone away, and pushed Gansey to lie back on the bed properly. It was barely big enough to hold both of them, if only because Matthew was so damn tall, but they were well accustomed with how to order their limbs to make it work. Some people may have felt smushed underneath someone as large as Matthew, but it was a grounding weight for Gansey. Some part of him heaved a sigh of relief to be so blanketed, and the rest of him joined in when Matthew wiggled into the right position to kiss him.

Still, Gansey had to ask. “The food?”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “I only ordered two pizzas,” he said with an air of martyrdom. “One for you and one for me.”

Gansey still felt that was a little excessive, but Matthew was kissing him again so he found that he didn't really care. Just a small, quick kiss. Then another one. And another one. And another, until an irrepressible laugh rendered Gansey momentarily unkissable. Matthew beamed down at him, obviously very pleased with himself. He glanced down, eyes lingering, and bit his lip. His cheeks looked a bit pink.

“I really do like you in my shirt,” he admitted. “You should definitely wear my clothes more often.”

Gansey suddenly felt warm all over, so full of affection and gratitude and want that it might spill out of him haphazardly and make a mess all over everything. He didn't have the words to explain that either, but that was okay. He pulled Matthew down into a kiss instead, this one slow and thorough.

“If you want that,” he murmured against Matthew's parted lips, “you'll have to take something off and not put it back on.”

Matthew's face lit up with mischief. “Oh, is that how it is?”

“We've got twelve minutes until the pizza gets here.”

“I think we can do it in ten.”

With that challenge on the table, Matthew set to his task with great enthusiasm. He took off many things and, obligingly, left them off. His bright green button-down was elected as the most steal-able of the bunch and he took pleasure in folding it carefully and putting it away in one of the perennially-open suitcases that had played the part of Gansey's dresser for the last four years. The pizza delivery man got an eyeful, accidentally, and a very generous tip, on purpose.

Gansey decided that perhaps not every Day had to be a bad one.

#Mattsey #Gansey #Matthew Lynch #TRC #TDT #fanfiction #fics by me

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clothingmanufacturer · 2 years ago

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A Guide To Wearing Leggings In Every Unique Way For The Winter

Not just that leggings have this functional appeal to them. We all know how wholesale printed leggings an important role is played by the leggings for fitness requirements.

#fitness #wholesale printed leggings #women #fashionable #wholesales capri leggings manufacturer

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globallover2021 · 10 months ago

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The Ultimate Guide to Wholesale Plus Size Leggings: Quality, Comfort, and Style

In the realm of fashion, inclusivity is not merely a trend; it's a movement toward acceptance, representation, and empowerment. Plus size fashion, in particular, has seen a significant evolution, with brands recognizing the need for diverse sizing options and styles that cater to all body types. Among the essential staples in any wardrobe, leggings stand out as versatile, comfortable, and universally loved. If you're in the market for wholesale plus size leggings, this guide is your go-to resource for navigating quality, comfort, and style.

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Comfort is non-negotiable when it comes to plus size leggings. Opt for leggings with features such as wide waistbands, reinforced seams, and moisture-wicking properties that enhance comfort during wear. Seamless designs can also minimize chafing and irritation, ensuring a smooth and comfortable fit. Consider leggings with adjustable features like drawstrings or elastic waistbands for customizable comfort.

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Conclusion

In conclusion, wholesale plus size leggings offer an excellent opportunity for retailers to cater to the growing demand for inclusive and stylish fashion options. By prioritizing quality, comfort, and style, retailers can curate a diverse selection of leggings that appeal to plus size individuals of all tastes and preferences. With careful consideration of sizing, affordability, and customer satisfaction, retailers can build a successful business catering to the diverse needs of the plus size market.

#Plus Size Leggings #Leggings #Youtube

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