#lawn prints 2017

[mybeingthere]

Jim Dine, Seeing thru the Stardust, The heat on the lawn (Claude), 2017.

Earthenware and bronze,

10 forms of varying dimensions.

Jim Dine (b. 1935, Cincinnati, Ohio) is an American artist who rose to prominence in late-1950’s New York. He played a key role in creating the first “Happenings” and thereafter was closely associated with the Pop Art movement. His diverse body of work defies such easy categorization, however, as it is also understood as seminal to Neo-Dada and Neo-Expressionism. An innovator throughout his long career, Dine’s vast and varied output includes paintings, assemblages, sculptures, drawings, prints, and over twelve books of poetry. His extensive practice has been the subject of more than 300 solo exhibitions around the world, including eleven major surveys and retrospectives since 1970.

[salonshop]

E H McCormick Research Library

Hongerwinter is a stapled, A5-sized publication accompanying the exhibition at Envy gallery, Wellington. Organised by Mokopōpaki, the exhibition featured sculptural work by Yllwbro, A.A.M. Bos, Dr P and Te Maari.

Since 2017, the Auckland-based Mokopōpaki has variously operated as a dealer gallery, exhibition committee and publisher: ‘We are a critical collective or whānau who want to make “art for people” accessible. We apply Māori approaches to exhibition-making and the production of artwork. We work together to encourage and support emergent and established artists from across the generations.’

Their exhibition catalogues are often self-published and limited-edition booklets in various formats which elucidate and expand on the practices of represented artists. 

Hongerwinter is presented in a plastic slip that has been screen-printed to look like a Vogel’s mixed grain bag, with Dr P’s Very Thin Vogels, 2024 seemingly stamped on top.

The introductory text expresses artist A.A.M. Bos’s appreciation for sparrows – their ubiquity and tenacity, and as a symbol of peace and plenty for the artist’s mother who lived through devastation and famine during World War II in the Netherlands. The nursery rhyme ‘Mary, Mary Quite Contrary’ is broken down line by line as an apparently innocuous verse containing layers of disturbing historical fact and imagery relating to Mary Tudor (1516–1558). Yllwbro authors a conversation between siblings Kōkako and Miss Wētā, observing the dust-bathing habits of the migrant sparrows.

Reading this little publication is like being thrown from a garden into the bush then back onto the lawn, with a dizzying array of references seamlessly woven through its otherwise modest pages.

Melanie Kung, Five New Books at the E H McCormick Research Library 2024 (Auckland: E H McCormick Research Library, 20 August, 2024)

[minutemann789]

Yard Signs, Vinyl Mounted

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Little did I know that the sign had originated 1000's of miles away, earlier that month, as a collaborative effort by a group of Wisconsin ladies whose story I tell under. Nor did I suspect how viral it might go, that it would yard signs custom be placed in yards around the world, or that it will have such longevity. It was seen broadly at the Women's March of January 2017 and on the anti-police brutality rallies of June 2020.

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[luckypon3]

College essay on Supreme and Golfwang

Parody and Irony in skating: 

The irony in skater fashion is designer skater fashion. The sport is for the underprivileged, people who feel that they don’t understand other sports, other people, other music, other clothes. The look of a skater is all about what they already have. In Mid90’s sunburn originally trades his CDs for his brother's old skateboard. Ruben from the same movie seems to only have two shirts one of which he exclaims is his favourite shirt. Fourth grade is quoted to be “the poorest person I’ve ever known,” by Ray; “he can’t even afford socks.”. Mid90’s shows that skating isn’t for the elite and in a lot of ways it has stayed that way since. Anyone can pick up a skateboard and try but the question in the recent era is can you keep up? 

Supreme for example is a brand that has fallen ill to consumer elitism. In April 1994 supreme was just another skater lifestyle store opened in New York but as the years have gone by It has completely, lost any of that. While its media and advertisement stay close to popular skaters, supreme falls under the hype-beast category of fashion (a demographic of fashion consumers who collect highly exclusive and popular pieces of fashion.) so it’s fair to say most of the people who purchase supreme are not skaters. Unfortunately, supreme only feeds into this by creating products such as the supreme money gun, supreme Oreos, supreme Lawn chair etc. Supreme raises the same questions as Balenciaga; is it all one ironic, mocking joke. 

This isn’t all to say supreme no longer has any good fashion on the contrary I believe that the demand for products that only serve as a sign of wealth is going down and the demand for substantial clothes and fashion is rising once more. This is evident in the supreme spring/summer 2022 look book. Featuring a balance of supreme logomania and new and interesting cuts, prints, textiles and colours. 

 

Tyler the creator is largely credit for Supremes success among other influences. The brand’s mocking products and links to skaters is why young Tyler and supreme fit so well together. However, in 2013 after designing all odd future’s A.K.A odd future wolf gang kill them all A.K.A OFWGKTA (a hip-hop collective that Tyler lead) merch, Tyler launched GOLF WANG. Golf wang opened with its 2013 fall/winter collection featuring fitted caps, hoodies, stripped and graphic adorned T-Shirts, button ups and socks. Golf wang was already proving itself to be a brand catering towards skaters, following the regular silhouette. Most of the motifs had carried on from odd future but with a much cleaner non-merch look but most shockingly was a graphic of an extremely racist and controversial character Ture of an African American. Tyler makes it clear through his music and interview cuts that he is trying to get a rise out of people and considering his race as a Black man it’s sure that Tyler didn’t mean the graphic as a serious statement however as said by Sid, another musician in the odd future collective, the problem isn’t Tyler but who may purchase the shirt.  

Tyler’s Ironic graphics eventually fade away as well as the loud colours, focus on T-shirts and hoodies, and its jokey attitude. In turn a more mature Golf Wang formed. From 2017 onwards we start seeing suit like silhouettes, references to suburban fashion, more knitwear and heavier fabrics. These were clothes were made to go with loafers rather than air force ones. This is obviously influenced by Tyler's second fashion brand golf le fleur. Despite the shift, skaters moved with Tyler and the influence is obvious. It could be said that golf wang is the right place to look to identify where skater brands are today.

LuckyPon3

[bigpandahero]

The legacy of appetence（the translation of 欲望遗产 from Lofter written by 此人已死）

Original link：https://ryuusuke.lofter.com/post/1cc28a98_1cb209a44

Original author：此人已死（from lofter）

Home link：https://ryuusuke.lofter.com/

Authorized reprint translation.

thank to @ask-ivanbraginsky for your help!

chapter1:

July 20, 2017

The culprit

 July 20, 2017

 Potato .beef. onion.

 Every time he took something off the shelf, Wang Yao would cross out a word on the list. He looked for discounted goods in various barcodes, a pen and paper in hand. He pushed his shopping cart as he walked around the supermarket. Until seeing the last thing on the list, wine.

 Wang Yao went out to a supermarket very rarely.This time he went out because the refrigerator was empty, like his brain. He entered, throwing a coin and heard a Do re mi.

 He walked to the shelf picking out a 700ml bottle of vodka and checked the price, cautious as a housewife, he finally chose the 50ml "baby bottle" next to him. 

The checkout cashier was chewing bubble gum. They looked at him with disdain, a look that Wang YAO was accustomed to. This kind of look had been haunting him since he became an adult. 

He looked down at the gray tracksuit he was wearing, and his plush slippers of the Sesame Street cartoon character. He looked like a hapless boy with a drunkard father. 

He swept the colorful over-packaged goods into a sturdy plastic shopping bag—a blue squirrel logo was printed on it, its face squeezed out of shape by a box of cereal.

 What kind of perversion will paint the squirrel blue.

 Wang Yao heard the cashier from behind turn his head and whisper something to his colleague. He carried the plastic bag and walked out of the automatic door blankly. The toy monkeys on both sides shouted "Welcome".

 He walked home, passing by an open park. There were a few young people playing baseball on the lawn. He sat on the promenade smoking a cigarette and unscrewed a bottle of ice sprite. He drank down half the bottle in one breath, then allowed the carbon dioxide to tumble in his stomach for a while. 

He took out the wine bottle that he struggled to find from the plastic bag, imagined that the small metal bottle cap was the heavenly spirit cap of some heinous person, opened it with his teeth in a crisp "bom" and poured it in happily. His body began to get hot, sweating from his back in the 28-degree weather. The polyester cloth stuck to the skin, uncomfortably. He threw his leg anxiously-in the season when others were wearing short-sleeved T-shirts, he was still wearing long-sleeved trousers. In times like this he thought of the Russian, and began to scold him furiously in his mind. He silently cursed, mouthing the words that went along with his thoughts. He was suddenly interrupted, he snapping back to reality. "Hey! Damn gay! Help us pick up the ball!”

everal young people gathered together maliciously and whispered. They made nasty gestures and sneered unscrupulously in Wang Yao's direction. 

Fuck.

 He pressed the cigarette butt on the bench, swept away the soot from his thigh and raised his butt, bending over to pick up the baseball on the grass. He threw it at the crowd fiercely, then made a more wretched gesture. 

My paramour could screw all your fucking “balls” off.

 Wang Yao shook the plastic bottle in his hand and heard the remaining liquid hit the wall of the bottle with a hollow echo.

 He finally took the plastic bag and went on his way, stopping to place the wine bottle down by a homeless man who laid lifeless on the side of the road against the wall.

 He returned to the white-roofed house and passed by the neighbor's beautiful fence with a few swaggering violets planted in it. He inadvertently looked inside, and happened to meet the eyes of the Labrador. Even though he had moved in a month ago and had returned his flying disk a dozen times, the dog still didn't recognize him, damn it. 

While the dog annoyingly barked, he glanced at the empty mailbox, then, as timid as a thief, he unscrew the door handle of his home. 

The person inside the door was standing by the shoe cabinet. They smiled, watching him with a pair of indifferent purple eyes exposed under ash-gold hair.

"You came back early." Wang Yao greeted dryly. "There is nothing I need to do today.  You didn't tell me you would go out—you went out again in slippers?" Wang Yao threw the key under the nose of the man who was nagging like a woman, and sat on the steps to change shoes .

the key has a key chain of panda holding a bamboo hanging on . It hurt the man's face. Wang Yao was very gloating, even though this man named Ivan Braginsky was his lover.

The keychain was the first and last time they went to the amusement park together and won with a gun. To be precise, Wang Yao won with a gun himself.

Because Ivan doesn’t have a good temper to wait for him, but Wang Yao is as stubborn as a cow.He seems to be possessed by a demon and must win the key chain.

In the end, he took the key chain from the boss who were smile flatteringly for $25 in front of the game booth which  you would cost 2.50 dollars each time on shooting. Wang Yao believes that the main reason for the inaccuracy of shooting was the sexual harassment of him by Ivan during this period. Ivan—Standing upright and stomping his feet impatiently, like a dishonest vibrator, he patted Wang Yao's ass and yelled in his ear: "You fucking under the noses of these men pouched and played with a toy gun for more than half an hour, just for a piece of junk plastic!"

Of course, no one was able to help Wang Yao in the end. He was thrown into the toilet cubicle by the Russian man by the collar. It is estimated that all the men who went to the amusement park to go to the toilet that day could hear him being fucked. Now he still could memorize the smell of air freshener choking in his throat as long as he saw the panda.

Ivan turned a blind eye to Wang Yao's innocuous violence. He always indulges him in all the trivial things, and people who are not familiar with him would think that he is a good gentleman.

Ivan is being troubled by something more important-a headache gnaws at his brain like a devil, and his alcohol addiction has blurred his consciousness. He lifted the plastic bag on the ground and pressed it against the wall to hold himself who was about to fall. It took a while, and then he stood up straight again. At first, his steps were still a little staggering, but soon, he began a brisk pace, walked to the refrigerator, hummed a few unexplained Russian, twisted the refrigerator in the shape of the Eiffel Tower before opening the refrigerator door. He snorted impatiently, and tossed the food into the cold storage as before.

"You forgot to throw away the paper notes."

Wang Yao followed him to the living room, listening to unfamiliar Russian in his ears, slowly translating it into English in his head, and lightly taking a glass of tap water for himself.

"So, where's the wine?"

Wang Yao put down the glass, and the bottom of the glass touched the marble table ,letting out a crisp sigh. He stared at the swirling vortex in the cup, cold sweat was oozing clearly on his forehead, but his bones creaked in excitement. Before exhaling a breath in his chest, he answered the question from the person behind him in Russian: "I have drunk it all”.

All the words he didn't have time to say were stuffed back into his throat by the strong, opaque plastic bag with the blue squirrel on it. Ivan's forearm muscles bulged, like the thighs of a carnivore running. He tightened the mouth of the plastic bag, twisted the other's fragile neck, and dragged Wang Yao's struggling body up the stairs.

The process was extremely unsatisfactory and annoying, and the alcohol addiction made him more irritable, so he pressed Wang Yao's head and slammed twice on the newly laid pine-green wallpaper. The plastic stopped the splashing blood and the blood turned into a dark shadow on the back of the blue squirrel. Wang Yao who was rebelling was like a kitten in a bag, weak and vulnerable.

Wang Yao was thrown on the soft bed. A thick tape was wrapped around his mouth with a plastic bag to seal the last oxygen. He tried to break it with his fingers, but it was useless.

His hands were grabbed by Ivan, and he couldn't see anything. He just guessed from this strength that Ivan’s knees were pressing on his arms. It was very painful and heavy, and even the thought of resisting was blocked. Pressed under the body. Wang Yao gradually calmed down and even breathed regularly. The sound around him fluctuated in the dark with his breathing. The sound of fine plastic fragments no longer pierced the ears, but turned into a regular pulse. His head was soaked in carbon dioxide, warm and damp, squeezed in a narrow film, he looked at the only light circle in the dimness-the hands tore the uterus, holding the weak head, playing with the balance of life and death.

He finished his dying ejaculation at the end of suffocation.

Ivan helped Wang Yao get rid of the tape that bound him on his head. The tape tore off a few long black hairs, connecting to the coagulated blood entangled in the hair. He took off Wang Yao's clothes, revealing his familiar and obsessed body.

The setting sun flicked through Wang Yao's eyes, reflecting the golden light of bronze.The black hair scattered beside the beautiful face, constituting the most mysterious color in the oil painting, blurring the limitation of gender. The naked body was covered with old scars and fresh bruises, wounds which were cracking and the redness that was swollen. The body was still beautiful, graceful and weak.The bloody scars made him show the power of life, making him no longer a flawless corpse.

Those scars were incomplete by Ivan, but he still deserved to be the culprit, although most of the time Wang Yao had to take the responsibility. Yao liked enraged him, teasing him, and sometimes even gave that handsome face to two resounding slap. Even if he knew that Ivan was insane, he would still deliberately drink up the wine at home, hiding it, observing the person in front of him turn into another devil who would chase his butt to strangle him.After waking up, decorate all with a terrible sex until dawn.

“Stepan? "

"Damn it, don't call his name in front of me."

"It hurts a bit.”

Wang Yao stretched out his thin arms to block his lover's head, kissing his soft and warm lips, counting the fluffy golden eyelashes, and exhaled a few silly love words in his blended breath.

He took the initiative to open his legs to cater to the opponent's hot desire, the erect penis had already oozes transparent liquid, squeezing into his soft and moist flesh cavity.

Wang Yao cocked his hips, his legs were like two gluttonous pythons, tied tightly to Ivan's waist. His body shook with the opponent's movements, his nails sinking into the tight muscles, and he scratched red marks on the wide back.

 He uttered a few high-pitched obscene words under the man, and was sobbed by the top of his penis, then he could no longer speak a complete word.

 Ivan's hand passed through Wang Yao's hair and kissed his favorite eyebrows and narrow neck. His five fingers hooked the other's lovely fingers, palms pressing against each other, and the vent of lust was more delicate than the girl's mind.

Car lights flashed outside the window, and a few beams of moonlight leaked in. The silver rings on the two ring fingers complemented each other in the dimly lit room, calling for each other.

 After exhausting sex, they slept with each other like two sleepy beasts.

 It was early the next morning when Wang Yao opened his eyes again, and the alarm clock on the bedside stopped at number five. The people around him slept quietly in the dark, their sturdy bodies undulating with their breathing. Even in his sleep, this person's body was shrouded in a heavy sense of oppression, like a huge animal.

“I want to change the bed. "

 Wang Yao stared at the mosquitoes on the ceiling intently. "This bed is yelling like a dead pig."

 After waiting for a long time, no one responded to him, and he felt a little bad. Although he had predicted the result, he still had illusions and was rather self-deceiving and tragic.

 He ignored the pain everywhere in his body, got up abruptly, grabbed the gray-golden hair.He picked up the heavy head from the soft pillow, and forced the purple eyes to look at him.

Then he heard a clear bark rolling out of the man's throat.

 Fuck.

Discloseable information:Both Wang Yao and Ivan are American citizens.

Yao has a bad temper, so Ivan can bear it if he can bear it.

Ivan is a patient with multiple personality disorders.

The first personality is Stepan, who usually only appears after being addicted to alcohol and drunk, so it appears for a short time. It is a personality with no emotions and absolute violence. He does not love Wang Yao, and he does not love anyone. He only speaks Russian, will conceal his spasms with his fists, and has a very serious obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The second personality is a dog. His name is "Los", which means "frogfish" in Russian. Only appears out of guilty after Stepan caused irreparable pain to the loved one , so the frequency of appearance is extremely low. It means that Ivan has few guilty, because the master character is not a good guy either.Ivan and Stepan hate each other, so they don't communicate with each other, and they don't share memories.

------------------------tbc.-----------------

[silent-era-of-cinema]

Theda Bara (born Theodosia Burr Goodman; July 29, 1885 – April 7, 1955) was an American silent film and stage actress.

Bara was one of the more popular actresses of the silent era and one of cinema's early sex symbols. Her femme fatale roles earned her the nickname "The Vamp" (short for vampire),[a] later fueling the rising popularity in "vamp" roles that encapsulated exoticism and sexual domination. Bara made more than 40 films between 1914 and 1926, but most were lost in the 1937 Fox vault fire. After her marriage to Charles Brabin in 1921, she made two more feature films and then retired from acting in 1926, never appearing in a sound film.

Bara was born Theodosia Burr Goodman on July 29, 1885 in the Avondale section of Cincinnati, Ohio. She was named after the daughter of US Vice President Aaron Burr. Her father was Bernard Goodman (1853–1936), a prosperous Jewish tailor born in Poland. Her mother, Pauline Louise Françoise (née de Coppett; 1861–1957), was born in Switzerland. Bernard and Pauline married in 1882. Theda had two younger siblings: Marque (1888–1954) and Esther (1897–1965), who also became a film actress under the name of Lori Bara.

Bara attended Walnut Hills High School, graduating in 1903. After attending the University of Cincinnati for two years, she worked mainly in local theater productions, but did explore other projects. After moving to New York City in 1908, she made her Broadway debut the same year in The Devil.

Most of Bara's early films were shot along the East Coast, where the film industry was centered at that time, primarily at the Fox Studios in Fort Lee, New Jersey.

Bara lived with her family in New York City during this time. The rise of Hollywood as the center of the American film industry forced her to relocate to Los Angeles to film the epic Cleopatra (1917), which became one of Bara's biggest hits. No known prints of Cleopatra exist today, but numerous photographs of Bara in costume as the Queen of the Nile have survived.

Between 1915 and 1919, Bara was Fox studio's biggest star; but, tired of being typecast as a vamp, she allowed her five-year contract with Fox to expire. Her final Fox film was The Lure of Ambition (1919). In 1920, she turned briefly to the stage, appearing on Broadway in The Blue Flame. Bara's fame drew large crowds to the theater, but her acting was savaged by critics.

Her career suffered without Fox studio's support, and she did not make another film until The Unchastened Woman (1925) for Chadwick Pictures. Bara retired after making only one more film, the short comedy Madame Mystery (1926), made for Hal Roach and directed by Stan Laurel, in which she parodied her vamp image.

At the height of her fame, Bara earned $4,000 per week (the equivalent of over $56,000 per week in 2017 adjusted dollars). Bara's better-known roles were as the "vamp", although she attempted to avoid typecasting by playing wholesome heroines in films such as Under Two Flags and Her Double Life. She appeared as Juliet in a version of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Although Bara took her craft seriously, she was too successful as an exotic "wanton woman" to develop a more versatile career.

The origin of Bara's stage name is disputed; The Guinness Book of Movie Facts and Feats says it came from director Frank Powell, who learned Theda had a relative named Barranger, and that Theda was a childhood nickname. In promoting the 1917 film Cleopatra, Fox Studio publicists noted that the name was an anagram of Arab death, and her press agents, to enhance her exotic appeal to moviegoers, falsely promoted the young Ohio native as "the daughter of an Arab sheik and a French woman, born in the Sahara." In 1917, the Goodman family legally changed its surname to Bara.

Bara was known for wearing very revealing costumes in her films. Such outfits were banned from Hollywood films after the Production Code (a.k.a. the Hays Code) started in 1930, and then was more strongly enforced in 1934. It was popular at that time to promote an actress as mysterious, with an exotic background. The studios promoted Bara with a massive publicity campaign, billing her as the Egyptian-born daughter of a French actress and an Italian sculptor. They claimed she had spent her early years in the Sahara desert under the shadow of the Sphinx, then moved to France to become a stage actress. (In fact, Bara never had been to Egypt, and her time in France amounted to just a few months.) They called her the "Serpent of the Nile" and encouraged her to discuss mysticism and the occult in interviews. Some film historians point to this as the birth of two Hollywood phenomena: the studio publicity department and the press agent (later evolving into the public relations person).

A 2016 book by Joan Craig with Beverly F. Stout chronicles many personal, first-hand accounts of the lives of Theda Bara and Charles Brabin. It reveals a great dichotomy between Theda Bara's screen persona and her real-life persona. Included are Bara's surprised responses to the critical reactions to her screen portrayals from a sector of the community. The author was befriended by Theda Bara and Charles Brabin beginning when she was a young girl. Craig's photographic-like memory paints an important picture of how they lived, where they lived, and what they said and did, even to the point of describing in great detail most of the rooms of their house. The book describes how Bara, who learned pattern making and wig making from her mother and father, designed and created most of the costumes and gowns she wore in her films, including the striking costumes she wore in Cleopatra.

Bara married British-born American film director Charles Brabin in 1921. They honeymooned at The Pines Hotel in Digby, Nova Scotia, Canada, and later purchased a 400-hectare (990-acre) property down the coast from Digby at Harbourville, Nova Scotia, overlooking the Bay of Fundy, eventually building a summer home they called Baranook.[15] They had no children. Bara resided in a villa-style home in Cincinnati, which served as the "honors villa" at Xavier University. Demolition of the home began in July 2011.

In 1936, she appeared on Lux Radio Theatre during a broadcast version of The Thin Man with William Powell and Myrna Loy. She did not appear in the play but instead announced her plans to make a movie comeback, which never materialized. She appeared on radio again in 1939 as a guest on Texaco Star Theatre.

In 1949, producer Buddy DeSylva and Columbia Pictures expressed interest in making a movie of Bara's life to star Betty Hutton, but the project never materialized.

On April 7, 1955, after a lengthy stay at California Lutheran Hospital in Los Angeles, Bara died there of stomach cancer. She was survived by her husband Charles Brabin, her mother, and sister Lori. She was interred as Theda Bara Brabin at Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in Glendale, California.

Bara often is cited as the first sex symbol of the film era.

For her contributions to the film industry, Bara received a motion pictures star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1960. Her star is located at 6307 Hollywood Boulevard.

Bara never appeared in a sound film, lost or otherwise. A 1937 fire at Fox's nitrate film storage vaults in New Jersey destroyed most of that studio's silent films. Bara made more than 40 films between 1914 and 1926, but complete prints of only six still exist: The Stain (1914), A Fool There Was (1915), East Lynne (1916), The Unchastened Woman (1925), and two short comedies for Hal Roach.

In addition to these, a few of her films remain in fragments, including Cleopatra (just a few seconds of footage), a clip thought to be from The Soul of Buddha, and a few other unidentified clips featured in the documentary Theda Bara et William Fox (2001). Most of the clips can be seen in the documentary The Woman with the Hungry Eyes (2006). As to vamping, critics stated that her portrayal of calculating, cold-hearted women was morally instructive to men. Bara responded by saying "I will continue doing vampires as long as people sin." Additional footage has been found which shows her behind the scenes on a picture. While the hairstyle has led some to theorize that this may be from The Lure of Ambition, this has not been confirmed.

In 1994, she was honored with her image on a U.S. postage stamp designed by caricaturist Al Hirschfeld. The Fort Lee Film Commission dedicated Main Street and Linwood Avenue in Fort Lee, New Jersey as "Theda Bara Way" in May 2006 to honor Bara, who made many of her films at the Fox Studio on Linwood and Main.

Over a period of several years, filmmaker and film historian Phillip Dye reconstructed Cleopatra on video. Titled Lost Cleopatra, the full-length feature was created by editing together production-still picture montages combined with the surviving film clip. The script was based on the original scenario with modifications derived from research into censorship reports, reviews of the film, and synopses from period magazines. Dye screened the film at the Hollywood Heritage Museum on February 8, 2017.

[sareyen]

Das Haus am See: The Lake House Cherik AU  (Part 2/3)

Read on ao3

Chapter 2

A Lake House Cherik AU: Charles and Erik both lived in the lake house, Charles in 2017, and Erik in 2019. By magic or fate, the two find out that the house’s letter box is able to send letters through time - and, in doing so, the two fall in love despite living in two different years. They vow to meet in the future, but fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Unfortunately, with all the work he had to do, Erik couldn’t stay near the lake house for the entire weekend, not with so much work piling up.

If it were any one but Charles, Erik would have maybe postponed visiting – it wouldn’t be the first time Erik cancelled his plans for work, something that had contributed to the end of his marriage with Magda.

But Charles… Gott, Charles. Charles, who was so sure that he would have waited two years for Erik to call. Charles, whom Erik believed had waited 2 years for him to call, but for some reason or another, couldn’t answer.

In the week of waiting, Erik had searched up everything he could online about someone named Charles F. Xavier, but found practically nothing – considering the man had so many PhDs, Erik thought that something would come up on university pages. While his name was listed on some university sites – Oxford and Cambridge, in particular – there were no pictures of the man anywhere. No social media accounts seemed to match the Charles that Erik knew, no journal publications, no news articles.

Even though it felt like Erik knew Charles, the man was still an enigma. With the social media search being a bust, Erik tried to track the man down through their only shared connection – the lake house.

Unfortunately, the real estate company couldn’t tell Erik much about the property, even though he had lived there for over a year. With the squabble over its ownership, everything regarding the property, including government records and the like, had been clamped down, leaving Erik with nothing more than empty air to chew on.

So, the only thing he could do was talk to Charles.

Eventually, Erik was able to leave work – for once, Shaw was still in the office after Erik left, seemingly in the throes of a strained phone call with the Graymalkin client – Francis Graymalkin’s sister, Erik surmised.

From what Erik has observed over the past week, settling the Graymalkin estate was an absolute nightmare – the man’s death had been sudden, and his will had been some sort of mess. It didn’t help that the man was a multimillionaire, and when a multimillionaire’s belongings were up for grabs, estranged relatives always emerged from the woodwork, which was apparently what was going on right now two years after his death.

But, that was Shaw’s headache, not Erik’s.

Erik had his own life to worry about.

Erik left for the lake house very early on Saturday morning, the week after his lengthy conversation with Charles. Considering Erik only had the weekend off, and that he had to return on Sunday in order to get his work completed, he had to make the most of the time that he did have.

When Erik parked his car in front of the lake house, he smiled when he saw that the flag was down.

Erik had never walked so fast in his life.

As Erik expected, there was a letter waiting for him, his name printed on the front in Charles’s handwriting that Erik believed he could recognise anywhere.

I do hope you managed to get here safely, my friend. It is a long drive from NYC, though hopefully by your time they’ve fixed that bottleneck along the highway – it was a nightmare in 2017, let me tell you. But, if you’re reading this, then I can assume you made it here safely, which I’m grateful for.

Responding to your last message, I can say that I have read The Once and Future King before, but that was a long time ago, so long ago that I can’t even remember where my own copy is – so, I’m also grateful that you have lent me yours. I can see that it is well-loved, the spine is basically falling apart. But, Erik, I’m mortified to know that you’re someone that dog-ears your books. It’s blasphemous, and may or may not be a deal-breaker for me.

Unless you can persuade me otherwise?

Erik laughed, shaking his head at Charles’s words, all of his frustration with Shaw ebbing away at the first curl of Charles’s lettering.

***

Charles knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t sleep the morning Thursday came, and instead camped outside wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of tea in a thermos, keeping a stern vigil on the letter box. He knew it was irrational, and that Erik had a life and a job – there was no way Erik would get there at 2am on what would be a Saturday for him, but there Charles was, sitting and waiting.

Charles had just gone inside to have breakfast at 11am, and had walked back out mid-chew and carrying a bowl of cereal when he noticed that the letter box’s flag was up.

Charles promptly choked on his mouthful of cereal, milk and cornflakes spurting all over his lawn and down his pyjama shirt.

Charles raced to his spot in front of the letter box, placing his bowl beside him as he pulled out his pen from the pocket of his robe, the flag flicking down.

I did make it here safely, thank you, but I regret to inform you that no, they haven’t fixed the bottleneck along the highway. In fact, it’s probably gotten worse, the asphalt falling to pieces. There have been a few car accidents along the highway, especially when it rains. Do you think you can put in a complaint to the council or something in back where you are in 2017? Then, hopefully, they would have it fixed by now.

And I’m glad you enjoy the book – but, like you said, I’ve only let you borrow it. I’ll be expecting you to return it to me in 2 years, in person.

Charles looked at the letter, awed, his heart clenching.

And he realised that yes, he may be a little bit in love.

***

Erik talked to Charles for almost the entire Saturday, up until he had to leave at sunset to make it back to NYC in one piece. They talked about everything – the future, politics, books. At one o’clock in the afternoon, they both ordered delivery pizza – the same one from the same shop – and pretended that they were eating together.

Charles had asked Erik, seemingly teasingly, if this was a date. Erik replied back that it was, not teasing in the slightest. Erik swore that he could feel Charles’s blush through his words, and the German smiled at that thought with far too many teeth.

Again, parting from Charles and the letterbox was painful, but that was life, wasn’t it? Erik was used to parting with people, but it was somehow more painful with Charles. Erik thought that it was probably because the chasm between him and Charles was more vast than any other – time was a formidable foe. At least, this time, Charles didn’t leave Erik empty handed.

Let’s go for a walk together then, my friend. What about your Wednesday evening, after you finish work? The weather forecast in 2017 says it’ll be a surprisingly sunny day for me – not sure if it’ll be the same in 2019, though.

Here’s a list of the route I’ll take around NYC – and maybe you’ll find something I’ve left you.

Until next time, my friend.

So, it was that Wednesday that Erik shrugged out of his work clothes and into some comfortable jeans and a T-shirt, as well as a waterproof jacket since, unlike in 2017, the weather was moderately cool and drizzly. Still, Erik thought that the day was beautiful.

Erik pulled out Charles’s letter, even though by this point he had read it so many times he could recite it.

I’m standing in front of your apartment complex right now, Erik, but in 2017 it’s more like a construction site. From what I would think is the front entrance, turn right and walk east along the street, past the Starbucks I’m sure will still be there.

Erik chuckled, glancing at the Starbucks just a few doors down from his sprawling apartment complex, as Charles said. Erik let his feet step to the cadence of Charles’s words, following the man on his walk. Charles pointed out the things he saw, similar but different to the things Erik witnessed on his own walk, but with Charles’s letter warm in his hands Erik could imagine the man walking beside him.

Erik followed Charles to the park, where he directed him amongst the trees, before telling him to stop by a specific bench by the fountain.

Read the plaque on the bench, Erik. This is my gift to you.

Erik raised a brow, bending down to peer at the little metal slab bolted into the rain-damp bench.

‘To Erik, my dear friend from the future Two years is a long time But maybe you can rest your legs here on our walk while you wait for me to catch up.’

Erik choked, mouth popping open. Charles had bought Erik a bench. In Central Park.

Charles’s letter made a bit more sense, now – “wait for me”.

So, Erik sat on his bench and waited. And waited. And waited.

But, Charles did not come.

And Erik walked back home, alone and despondent.

***

Sitting in the study in the lake house, Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a groan before rolling his neck. His spine ached a little from being hunched over his desk all day, the words coming to him relentlessly. It had been a while since Charles felt so alive, so eager to tell a story – his and Erik’s, story.

Francis Graymalkin’s new novel, “Days of Future Past” was coming together chapter by chapter, paragraph by paragraph. The novel was vastly different from Charles’s previous work, and was essential a love story between an engineer named Max Eisenhardt living in the year 2019 and a genetics professor called Wesley Gibson living in 2017.

Well, that’s what the characters would be called in the final version. In the incomplete draft, Max was called Erik, and Wesley called Charles.

Charles had just written the final paragraph in chapter 13, in which Max went on a walk alongside Wesley, crossing through Central Park where Wesley had gifted the older man a park bench.

Smiling to himself, Charles looked at the certificate park management had sent him after he made a hefty donation of $10,000, allowing him to lay claim to one of the benches in the park. Giddy and with a fluttering feeling in his stomach, Charles allowed his fanciful imagination to envision the future between him and Erik.

Charles’s plan for 2019 was to lead Erik through the letter to the park bench dedicated to him, and then to appear. As a cheesy romantic, Charles imagined his future self emerging from behind a screen of trees brandishing a bouquet of bright carnations. Red ones, perhaps, because they symbolised love – and Charles was sure that he loved Erik.

Charles imagined Erik’s shock, and even though he had never seen the man’s face before, he’s sure that the expression on the man’s face would be beautiful. Then Charles could tell Erik that he loved him, and has loved him for two years – and hopefully, Erik could say the same.

Charles had to wonder, though – Erik had told him that Charles hadn’t picked up his phone call, two years in the future. Charles frowned at the thought. Charles doubted that his feelings for Erik would wane, even as new as they were. Charles had never felt anything like this before, and he doubted that two years would change that, not when he knew that Erik would be waiting for him at the end of it all.

Maybe Charles had changed his phone number. That was the most logical explanation.

Charles ignored the small kernel unfurling in his gut that, maybe, something else had happened.

But Charles was sure that he would have gone to meet Erik at the park, two years from today. Charles had already written it down in pen in his calendar, circling it bright red as to not forget.

Charles vowed to himself that, no matter what, he would meet Erik there.

Closing the screen of his laptop, Charles took a moment to check his phone, having ignored it while working. Charles found that, though the isolation at the lake house did wonders for his creativity, Charles had been a little starved for human interaction lately (despite his weekly correspondence with Erik via letter box).

Charles saw that he had two missed calls from Raven, calling her back as he reclined in his chair. His sister picked up on the first ring.

“Charles! You finally decided to call me back, huh?!” Raven screeched into the writer’s ear, the man wincing.

“I was busy writing, Raven. You know how it is,” Charles said, Raven silent for a moment.

“So, you got over your writer’s block? Good for you, Charles. I wonder who thought it would be a good idea for you to get out of the city. Maybe you should thank that person, they’re really very intelligent, don’t you think? Maybe you could even buy them a thank you gift, too… A little birdy told me that they’ve been looking at a particular Dior bag recently,” Raven said, playing at being coy.

Charles just sighed, too used to and too fond of his sister’s antics.

“Thank you, Raven. Yes, you were right, getting out of the city was a good idea. Send me the link to the bag and I’ll get it for you,” Charles said, Raven squealing and chanting “Love you, love you, love you!” which made Charles smile, shaking his head.

“Oh! But you distracted me! I was calling to see if you were free this Saturday?”

Charles was going to focus on writing his and Erik’s story on Saturday after finding out what happened on their park date – because it was a date, was it not? A date, booked two years in advance.

Raven could apparently smell her brother’s excuse through the phone, cutting him off swiftly.

“Please, Charles! You know my friend, Angel? She’s getting married on Saturday, and I had RSVP’d a plus one, since Irene and I were gonna go together, but… Irene and I are going through a rough patch right now, and I don’t want to go to the wedding alone!”

“Raven, I really do have… plans,” Charles said, wondering if telling Raven that said plans were him sitting in his house thinking about a man living two years in the future inside a mail box would end up with her committing him to a mental hospital.

It probably would.

“Charles, what plans could you possibly have all the way out there?”

“Raven,” Charles groaned, his sister pleading.

“Please, Charles? Just this once. Pretty, pretty please!”

Charles had never been able to deny his younger sister anything, and reluctantly agreed. Raven squealed, screaming “Love you, love you, love you” again, before promising to send Charles the details of the wedding.

Raven soon hung up promptly to browse dresses online for the wedding, leaving Charles in his quiet study. Sighing to himself, Charles wheeled his desk chair to the side slightly, reaching across his table to a small lockbox, unlatching it and smiling as he pulled out the first piece of paper contained within it, letting himself float amongst the comforting words of Erik’s letters.

***

At the wedding reception, Raven immediately drifted away from Charles to chat and dance with some of her friends, and Charles wondered why she needed him to come with her in the first place. She was clearly fine on her own.

Charles spent most of the night just hovering by the buffet, figuring that at least there was free food and wine, and he did end up sharing a dance with his sister partway through the evening. Still, the majority of the guests were much younger than Charles, and while the party was only getting more and more wild as the drinks poured, Charles was already knackered.

Needing to get some fresh air, Charles meandered outside onto the balcony of the countryside mansion Angel and her now-husband had hired for the reception, nursing a full glass of wine in his hand. The balcony overlooked a sprawling garden lined with neatly trimmed hedges, the quiet fountain in the middle of it gleaming silver with the moonlight.

Charles was busy admiring the quiet peace of the garden when the French doors to the balcony opened behind him. Charles jumped, whirling around, eyes locking with the surprise guest – it was a tall, handsome man with hair that shone a little auburn. His steely grey eyes locked with Charles, surprised to see someone already on the secluded balcony as well, and Charles noticed a slight shadow of ginger scruff across the man’s angular jaw. Like Charles, he wore a suit, but with his lean legs and narrow waist, Charles thought that the man pulled off the polished look far better than he did.

“Sorry,” the man mumbled stiffly. “I didn’t realise someone was already out here.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Charles said, letting out a soft laugh that was carried away by the wind. “Not quite sure why you’d be surprised, though. You would hardly be the only one wanting to get out of there.” Making a point, Charles shuffled along the balcony’s railing he was leaning on, making space for the man.

The left corner of the man’s lips curved up with barely-visible amusement as he stepped through the balcony’s threshold, closing the doors behind him. When the man made his way to stand next to Charles, he pulled out a cigarette from an inner pocket of his suit jacket and held it between his lips. As he held a lighter near the end of the cigarette, the man gave Charles a sideways look, questioning.

“You can smoke,” Charles said, shrugging. “You’re the one that will get cancer though, my friend.”

The man snorted at that, lighting up and taking a deep drag from the cigarette, exhaling through his nose. Charles ignored the bitter curl of the smoke through the air, the man tapping some of the ash off on the balcony’s banister with long, slender fingers.

“I’ve been trying to quit,” the man suddenly murmured quietly, Charles humming in response. “I did quit, while my wife was pregnant. The first time.”

“But you started again after your child was born?”

“No, I started after the child was miscarried,” the man said, the empty tone in his voice only making him seem full of anguish, though his face betrayed nothing when Charles glanced at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Charles supplied, the man shrugging, tapping some more ash off his cigarette before snuffing it out against the stone banister.

“It is what it is,” the man said, like he was trying to convince himself.

“Just because it is what it is, doesn’t mean you have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt,” Charles said, his balcony companion turning to him with a raised brow. Charles let out a huff of breath into the night air. “But, you probably don’t need a stranger at a wedding giving you a pep talk.”

“Not really. I’ve had enough of pep talks, especially after the second miscarriage,” the man mused, Charles’s eyes softening.

“Then let’s talk about something else. How do you know the lovely couple we’re celebrating here tonight?” Charles asked, the man giving Charles a small smile.

“I don’t know them personally. My wife is one of the groom’s co-workers. I’m just here for the free food,” the taller man said, Charles chuckling. “You?”

“My sister is friends with the bride, and I’m also just here for the free food. Oh, and the open bar,” Charles said, gesturing to the half-empty glass of wine he had balanced on the balcony rail. “But, frankly, even the wine isn’t enough to make me want to go back in there. I always loved a good party, but lately I’ve come to realise that I’m no longer a spry twenty-something-year-old.”

“Can’t keep up with the kids these days?” the man said, smiling with a show of straight, white teeth. Charles huffed again, though he couldn’t help his own smile that was beginning to grow on his face. For some reason, this man reminded Charles of his Erik, who teased him good-naturedly through his hand-written prose.

“Oh, no. I just don’t want to steal their thunder,” Charles said, waving his hand in the air, winking. The man let out a chuckle at that, before turning away from Charles to stare off into the distance once again.

“Sometimes I wish I could go back to how things were when I was their age,” the nameless man said, Charles leaning his chin on his palm while resting across the balcony, glancing at the man beside him. The man felt Charles looking at him, and laughed under his breath, almost incredulous. “Sorry. I don’t know where this sentimentality came from. I’m not usually like this.”

“It’s weddings,” Charles said, shrugging. “Makes people sentimental. That, plus the wine.”

“Mm, you may be right. Weddings. They remind me of my own, and how… much things have changed,” the man said, Charles remaining silent, before tentatively reaching out to pat the arm of the man beside him, just once. That light touch seemed to make the taller man falter a little, throat clogged. “I just don’t know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

“Just because someone stumbles and loses their way, it doesn’t mean they’re lost forever,” Charles responded quietly, the man beside him freezing, before turning to Charles with slightly wide eyes.

“Is that a quote from Francis Graymalkin? From the second novel in the X tetralogy?” Erik asked, Charles blinking. This man has read his books?

“Yes, it’s from when Professor X-”

“-Talks to his younger self, and gives him a pep talk, of sorts,” the other man responded, eyes alight. Charles laughed at the way the man brightened the moment he began to talk about Charles’s books, warmth spreading inside him.

“Indeed. I take it you’re a fan?” Charles said as he picked up his wine glass, bringing it to his lips while the other man nodded, a smile on his face.

“I am. Francis Graymalkin is one of my favourite authors, his work has gotten me through some… tough times. ‘First Class’ is one of my favourite books, probably second only to The Once and Future King,” the man said, Charles pausing, lips pressed against his wine glass.

That’s Erik’s favourite book.

No. There’s no way…

Coincidence?

Fate?

“You…” Charles started, just as the French doors behind him opened, for the second time that night. Charles and the man turned simultaneously to look at the interloper, revealing a pretty woman with dark brown hair and neatly trimmed bangs, a little rounded in the belly – pregnant – and a slightly stiff smile on her face.

“Magda,” the man beside Charles breathed out, the woman giving him a slightly tired look.

“I was looking for you everywhere, Erik,” the woman said, and Charles almost dropped his wine glass.

ErikErikErik.

“Sorry, I was just…” Erik said, glancing at Charles, who was staring at him with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“I know you don’t like big gatherings, but at least tell me when you’re going to get some fresh air,” Magda said, hand cradling her baby bump. “I just wanted to tell you that it’s probably a good time to go home, it’s best that I don’t strain myself… because you know…”

Erik’s face darkened a little, likely thinking about the previous miscarriages, nodding immediately. Erik flicked his spent cigarette onto the stone beneath his feet, walking over to his pregnant wife.

ErikErikErik.

“It was nice talking to you,” Erik said to Charles, small smile on his face. “And thanks, for reminding me. That, you know – ‘I’m not lost forever’.”

Erik gave Charles another tiny smile before stepping beside his wife, large hand splayed against her lower back, intimate and protective.

Charles could only watch as the man he loved walked away, blue eyes trained on the back of a man that was still too young to recognise Charles at all.

In the silence of the night, the sounds of the wedding muted as the French doors closed, Charles remember another line from his second novel.

“Countless choices define our fate: each choice, each moment, a moment a ripple in the river of time. Enough ripples, and you change the tide… for the future is never truly set.”

“How right I was,” Charles sighed to himself, draining the rest of his wine in one large gulp and revelling in the warm haze that swept over him.

***

I saw you, you know – on the 25th of February, 2017. You look good in a suit.

Erik stared at the letter Charles had sent through the letter box, heart hammering.

‘I’ve met Charles before?!’ Erik screamed in his mind, rifling through two years’ worth of memories to try and find the one with Charles. 25th of February, 25th of February. Erik couldn’t pinpoint a specific time or event, that period of his life a vague collection of moments labelled ‘Mid-Magda’ and ‘Post-Magda’. Magda’s third miscarriage was towards the end of that month, and it wasn’t long after that that they had put their divorce into motion. Erik’s memories were hazy regarding everything else, his mind focused on his broken marriage.

But he had met Charles back then? And he couldn’t even remember it?

In novels and film, the meeting between two people was always cataclysmic and seemingly life-changing. The world stops turning, time freezes, and the protagonists always think ‘Oh, this is fate, isn’t it?’. But when Erik had supposedly met Charles, time did not stop, and the world did not stop turning.

Erik couldn’t even remember him.

When did we meet, Charles? This was two years ago for me, and I can’t remember you and my memories aren’t clear.

Erik hoped that Charles wouldn’t feel disheartened about the fact that Erik couldn’t remember him, not when Erik didn’t even know what he was looking for at the time. Erik had been so lost, and…

Suddenly, it clicked in Erik’s foggy head, just as the flag on the letter box moved.

It was at Angel’s wedding. You were with your wife.

Erik swallowed thickly, his suspicions realised – the man on the balcony, the one with the smooth English accent and ocean-blue eyes. The man that quoted Francis Graymalkin, the man who told Erik that he wouldn’t be lost forever. The man that Erik never got the name of.

That was Charles?

Why didn’t you say anything?

Erik frowned, brow crinkling and wrinkles gathering on his forehead.

You didn’t know me back then, so what could I say? ‘Hi there, Erik – I’m your pen pal you’ll start writing to 2 years in the future by shoving paper into a magical time-warping letter box’. You’d think I was mad.

And besides, you were married.

I assume that’s not the case in 2019?

Erik could feel Charles’s hesitation through his penmanship, how his ink grew lighter like he was wary of pressing too hard into the thick note paper. Erik quickly replied.

Magda and I divorced not long after the wedding. Not long after our third miscarriage.

Erik did not know what else to say after that, sending the two sentences as they were. Charles took a moment to respond, Erik biting the inside of his lower lip in anticipation and nervousness.

I am sorry to hear that, my friend.

Erik smiled wryly.

You’re not really sorry, are you?

Another pause in Charles’s reply.

I am sorry – I can’t imagine that it would have been easy for you. But… I can’t say that I’m disappointed. Does that make me a bad person, Erik?

Erik chuckled, gazing down at Charles’s words fondly – now that he knew what the man looked like, even if his two-years-ripened memories were a little fuzzy, he could picture Charles nervously biting on his lower lip, which Erik recalled as being unnaturally red like wine.

Maybe. But if it helps, I’m glad that you feel that way – it appears that we are both terrible people.

But, on another note – you’re a fan of Francis Graymalkin? I shouldn’t be surprised, not when you seem to share his naïve beliefs.

Erik could imagine Charles scoffing, blue eyes rolling as the man crossed his arms over a lithe chest.

Really, Erik? Let’s talk about you for a moment. You’re a fan of m his work as well, and yet you can’t seem to let go of your divisive separatist ideas.

Erik laughed, feeling heat flare in his belly. Suddenly, the image of arguing with Charles face-to-face, maybe over a drink in front of a warm fireplace, a chess board between them quickly being forgotten as they chatted relentlessly.

I assure you, Charles – I firmly believe that Magneto is correct, even if Francis Graymalkin turned him into a foil for the Professor.

I prefer to think of them as two sides of the same coin – frankly, one cannot exist without the other. In the end of the fourth and final book, they united and began walking the same path, did they not?

Yes. Even with their differences, they came together, in the end.

Do you think it could be the same for us?

Erik kneeled by the letterbox, waiting for Charles’s response. Erik had been thinking about this for a while, ever since Charles had failed to appear during their walk through the park, and not to mention when the man had failed to answer Erik’s phone call. Erik knew that he liked Charles, more than he has liked any one before – even maybe more than he had liked Magda when they had first started dating.

But, Erik has known too many failed relationships to risk being hurt again, especially when Charles had already failed to keep his promise twice. Maybe Erik was the naïve one now – was it perhaps foolish to think that a divide of two years was surmountable?

Yes, for Erik, seeing Charles would be like no time has passed at all. But for Charles – sweet, genuine Charles – it would be two years. Two years of waiting for Erik, who didn’t even know that he existed. On the balcony at the wedding, Charles had known Erik, while Erik hadn’t even given him a second thought. Erik couldn’t imagine how that would have felt.

Maybe two years was too much. Or, maybe Charles’s feelings for Erik just weren’t enough.

‘One last chance,’ Erik thought to himself, as he opened the letter box, reading Charles’s response.

I’d truly like to believe so, my friend. I want nothing more.

How about we meet for dinner, exactly two years from tomorrow – March 3rd, 2019. I’ll make a reservation, and I’ll see you there. You should choose the restaurant – it would be a shame if I made a reservation for a place that went out of business before 2019.

Erik swallowed, running his fingers over the date. A promise written in ink.

Erik preferred it to be written in stone.

Make a reservation for Genosha.

Done. See you at 7pm in two years and a day, Erik.

Yes. See you tomorrow, Charles.

***

For Erik, tomorrow came quickly, but he could imagine that the same could not be said for Charles.

Erik spent most of Sunday morning on March 3rd, 2019 lying on his couch just watching the clock tick on, a monotonous countdown until 7pm. At four, Erik showered. By five, Erik had ironed his dress shirt and black slacks. By half-past-five, Erik’s shoes were polished and his hair dried. By six, Erik was doing up the buttons on his shirt and tucking it into the waist of his trousers, sliding a sleek leather belt through the beltloops. By six-thirty, Erik was on the subway heading towards the restaurant, Genosha.

And, at ten-to-seven, the manager of Genosha was asking Erik if he had a reservation.

“Yes,” Erik said, a little breathless as the woman smiled at him patiently. “A reservation for two for 7pm. It should be under Charles. Or maybe Erik.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to widen with recognition as she looked at Erik, before a smile began playing at her lips.

“Oh, we’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” the woman said, crossing the name ‘Charles’ off her reservation book. Erik glanced down at it, noting that the woman had jotted down in the margin ‘the two years from tomorrow reservation!’, making Erik’s heart squeeze.

“Yes, two years,” Erik mused, the woman smiling in understanding, likely having been the one to take Charles’s initial reservation two years ago. She didn’t say much more as she ushered Erik to his table, low-lit with tea lights.

“Would you like to order a drink while you wait?” the woman asked, Erik shaking his head.

“No, I’ll wait for him.”

Charles has been waiting for 2 years, after all. What was ten minutes?

“Very well, sir,” the woman said, giving him another gleaming smile, before ducking back off to greet some other patrons.

Erik nervously smoothed the ironed legs of his pants, then began fiddling with the white table cloth, and then making his hands busy by straightening all of the cutlery in front of him.

Erik checked his watch – 6:58pm.

Two minutes, then.

Two years. What was two minutes compared to two years?

The minutes ticked by, and 7 o’clock came and passed. The manager stepped in with some water just after 7:00, filling Erik’s glass and asking him again if he wanted something to drink. Erik declined.

7:05pm.

7:10pm.

At 7:15, Erik ordered a glass of wine.

7:25pm.

7:40pm.

8 o’clock.

Erik caught the manager looking at him with a forlorn expression from the front of the restaurant, but her expression could not even touch the turmoil brewing inside Erik’s chest.

Erik’s hands were tightly fisted under the table as he found his eyes growing hot, and he gritted his teeth.

He was not going to cry, not over something like this. Erik rarely cried. In recent times, he could only pinpoint three times that tears had slipped from his eyes – his mother’s death, the first miscarriage, losing Magda.

So, Erik was not going to cry over someone who couldn’t keep a promise. Not over someone who clearly didn’t care about Erik.

***

On his Thursday (and Erik’s Saturday), Charles waited eagerly for Erik to respond to the letter he had placed in the early hours of the morning. It would have been just under a week ago that Erik and future Charles would have had dinner together at Genosha, and Charles was giddy thinking about what would happen now.

Would Erik tell him how well it went? Would he have a photo of the two of them together, a Charles that was two years older than the one he currently knew?

Or, would Charles accompany Erik to the lake house and tell the past him that everything turned out as Charles hoped it would, and assure him that it’s alright to still have hope.

Charles could only wait, feeding his anticipation with fanciful scenarios in his head.

The note Charles had left in the letter box was simple:

Erik, please tell me I recommended the tuna nicoise to you. The tuna nicoise at Genosha is to die for.

It took a while for Charles to gain a reply, which wasn’t surprising considering Erik had to travel from NYC to the lake house every week.

As Charles was envisioning him feeding Erik said tuna nicoise, the letter box squeaked, and Charles immediately leapt to his feet. Pulling out the letter, Charles licked his lips, unfolding it.

The words that he read made all of the colour from his face drain, Charles’s usually pink cheeks turning ashen.

You weren’t there. You didn’t come, Charles. Again.

‘No,’ Charles thought to himself, before speaking out loud. “No, no, no, no, no. That’s impossible. I would never…”

Charles felt frantic, reading into Erik’s words – the harsher-than-usual slope of his lettering, the way the ink seemed to rip into the page. Erik was angry, or disappointed, or both.

And it was future-Charles’s fault.

I don’t understand. Erik, something must have happened. I am so, so sorry, my friend. I would never… At least, the me writing this to you, right now in 2017, can’t even fathom the idea of not showing up. I’ve thought of nothing else since.

I have two years, Erik. We can try again.

Charles shoved the letter into the letter box, gnawing on his lower lip. The response was surprisingly swift.

No, Charles. It’s too late. It already happened, more than once, and every time it didn’t work.

“No,” Charles gasped, voice cracking as his eyes grew wet, Erik’s words growing blurry behind the veil of tears. “No, please.”

Charles’s hands were shaky as he wrote, his cursive wonky across the page. Some of the ink smeared as the tears that slid down his cheeks dribbled onto the page.

Please don’t give up on me, Erik. Remember Professor X and Magneto – they waited for each other for years. Decades. They meet again, time after time. They have another chance.

Please.

Charles loosed a sob as he saw the flag on the letter box shift up and down, and part of him dreaded opening it to read Erik’s reply.

Life isn’t a book, Charles. No matter how much we may wish it to be.

I let myself get lost this time. I got lost in this fantasy where time seemed to stand still. You helped me forget my troubles, even for a short while.

But, Charles – I have to learn to live the life I’ve got. I can’t wait for you to show up, and you couldn't keep your promise. We clearly don’t want the same thing.

So, please don’t write any more. I won’t be coming back to the lake house. Don’t try to find me.

Let me let you go.

Charles cried, writing frantically across the paper, a litany of ‘please’ and ‘Erik’ and ‘I’m sorry, forgive me’.

Charles sent his plea, but the letter box didn’t move again.

Next chapter (3/3) → 

[puroresu-musings]

NJPW G1 CLIMAX 29 Day 13 & Day 14 Review (Aug 3rd and 4th 2019, Osaka, EDION Arena)

Day 13 (A Block)

KENTA vs. Bad Luck Fale  **

Zack Sabre Jr. vs. Lance Archer  ***1/4

Will Ospreay vs. EVIL  ****1/2

Hiroshi Tanahashi vs. Kota Ibushi  ****3/4

Kazuchika Okada vs. SANADA  *****

Day 14 (B Block)

Tomohiro Ishii vs. Toru Yano  ***3/4

Juice Robinson vs. Taichi  *3/4

Hirooki Goto vs. Jeff Cobb  ***1/4

Jon Moxley vs. Jay White  ***1/2

Tetsuya Naito vs. Shingo Takagi  ****3/4

Photos.

The G1 rolled into Osaka for the annual, and prerequisite, classic matches in the tournament. The A Block night on the 3rd was the stronger of the two, and very probably the best night of Block action so far this year, with three fantastic matches back to back. To kick things off, Bad Luck Fale defeated KENTA after a lot of Bullet Club shenanigans. KENTA worked hard here, laying into the big man with some stiff kicks, then turned a Grenade into Game Over in the middle of the ring. This caused Chase Owens to distract the referee as Jado came in with the kendo stick. The old timer misses with the cane and KENTA sends him packing, however the distraction allowed Fale to sneak up from behind and score the win with a school boy at 7:20 of a very frustrating bout. This was nonsense and the loss essentially eliminates KENTA from this years tournament. Oh well. Speaking of which, the next contest was between two guys who are also mathematically eliminated and members of Suzuki-gun, as ZSJ got the sneaky win over the considerably larger Lance Archer. This was really good, with Zack playing the annoying ant to Archer’s giant. After Zack would keep countering Lance’s power moves into submissions, the American Psycho finally hit a big chokeslam, which appeared to win the match for him, but he inexplicably lifted Sabre at 2. Archer then tried Blackout, but Zack rolled through into a cradle to win at the 10:43 mark.

The next three bouts were all tremendous in their own very different ways. Ospreay vs. EVIL was an excellent battle indeed, and featured a white hot crowd. These guys worked incredibly well together, with their different styles meshing seamlessly and producing one of the hottest closing stretches of the tournament. After Ospreay scored a near fall with the corner to corner dropkick, and EVIL rebounded with a huge Lariat, they went into a crazy strike exchange and counter sequence, before EVIL scores a near fall with Darkness Falls. The King Of Darkness tries Everything is Evil, but Will flips out and hits a massive Liger Bomb for a near fall of his own. EVIL ducks Hidden Blade and charges for another Lariat, but runs straight into the Spanish Fly and hits Oscutter for a super believable near fall. He tries the Super Oscutter, but EVIL catches him in a big half and half German, another big Lariat, and scores the win at 17:08 with the STO. Following that were Tanahashi and Ibushi in a rematch of last years final, one of the greatest finals in the history of the G1. This wasn’t as good as that all time classic, but it was a different match really. This was worked at a breakneck pace (it surprisingly only went 15:53), and featured some absolutely fantastic exchanges. After Tanahashi worked over Ibushi’s ankle, and Ibushi worked on Tanahashi’s knee, Tana attempted an HFF to the floor, but Ibushi countered into a springboard top rope Frankensteiner, and from here the match never stopped. Tana escaped that terrifying Lawn Dart into the turnbuckle spot, then tried Sling Blade, but ate a perfectly timed double stomp, and took the Lawn Dart anyway, which never looks fun. Whilst Tana rolled onto the apron, Ibushi hit his other terrifying move; the Deadlift German off the ropes into the ring for a near fall. After Tana escapes a Last Ride attempt, the two engage in an unbelievable strike exchange, which resulted in Kota getting a bloody mouth, and a Tanahashi hand print across the right side of his face, as the crowd goes crazy. Ibushi sold like he was KO’d, but spins round into his massive Lariat for the double down. Ibushi hits the high kick, but Tana counters Kamigoye into three Twist and Shout’s, hits a perfect Sling Blade, but misses the High Fly Flow. Kota battles back with the Boma Ye for a near fall, then Tanahashi counters another Kamigoye attempt into a small package for a believable near fall. Ibushi is up and hits the Ace with a big high kick, but Tana shakes it off and screams, only to eat another, then the match-ending Kamigoye for Ibushi to take the 2 points and eliminate Tanahashi from contention. There was a ‘passing of the torch’ type moment in the post match as the two showed respect for each other, with Ibushi being emotional at finally vanquishing his God (he’s only ever pinned him one other time previous to this, in the 2017 G1) and Tana rolled out of the ring so Ibushi could get his pop.

The main event had a lot to follow, but somehow ended up surpassing them in a highly dramatic match. This was great, and the best match I’ve ever seen these two have together (and probably the best of SANADA’s career). Whereas the previous bouts were super heated sprints, this was a slow burn classic which took its time to weave its tale, and teasing going the distance. Obviously the story here is that SANADA is 6-0 against Okada, having never beaten him once, and Okada is undefeated in this G1 thus far, looking invincible in the process, so SANADA had a hell of an uphill battle. The Osaka faithful were super into this from the outside, and everyone appeared to be behind the underdog SANADA, chanting his name throughout this. In reality, this was every Okada/SANADA match we’ve ever seen, until the closing stretch, which was insanely intense. SANADA tried the springboard dropkick, but Okada catches him in the Air Raid Crash neckbreaker, then tries Rainmaker, but SANADA counters into Skull End, which Okada flips out of after climbing the ropes, and hits a Tombstone. He tries another Rainmaker, but SANADA again blocks it, this time catching him in Keiji Muto’s Dragon Neck Screw off the ropes. They engage in a great forearm and European uppercut exchange, before Okada wipes Cold Skull out with his patented drop kick. Another Rainmaker is turned into Skull End again, but Okada escapes, only for SANADA to hit a Tiger Suplex for a near fall. SANADA lands on his feet after Okada moved from a Moonsault attempt, but manages to lock in Skull End. This time, Okada counters into two Rainmakers, then tries a third, but SANADA hits one of his own which blew the roof off the EDION Arena. After 25 minutes of action, SANADA locks in Skull End once more, this time for a long time, and Okada starts to fade. Red Shoes Unno was fantastic here, selling that Okada might be out and the he was going to stop it, but Okada begins fighting back as the final two minutes are called. SANADA releases Skull End, then tries the Moonsault, but the IWGP Champion gets the knees up. At this point you got the feeling like this was definitely ending in a time limit draw. Final minute, and Okada hits another dropkick, then tries another Rainmaker, but SANADA counters into a pop-up Ace Crusher. With 30 seconds left SANADA hits a Moonsault to the back, and another to the front to score his first win ever over Okada at the 29:47 mark. This was superb stuff with off the charts tension and drama. SANADA cut a promo in the post match saying he loved Osaka to send everyone home happy.

The B Block show on the 14th couldn’t possibly hope to follow that show, but it was still a really good night of G1 action. Firstly, Block action began with Tomohiro Ishii pinning fellow CHAOS stablemate Toru Yano with the Brainbuster in a great 9:36 match-up. This was Yano’s best match of the tournament, even if it probably was Ishii’s weakest, and was just super entertaining throughout. Yano kept trying to steal wins with cradles and roll-up’s and Ishii would constantly prevent Yano from hitting his low blows and shenanigans, destroying him with chops and forearms in the process. The Stone Pitbull finally hit the Sliding Lariat and the Vertical Drop for the win and the 2 points, meaning he’s ver much still alive in this thing. Taichi defeated Juice in a deathly boring 12 minute outing next. I didn’t like this at all, and reached a crescendo of ref bumps and interference, before spat whiskey in Juice’s eyes and scored the pin with Black Mephisto. Whatever. 

Hirooki Goto and Jeff Cobb clashed next. This match too was just there, much like their uber disappointing NEVER Title match at the Cow Palace last year. On paper, these guys should have great matches togerther, however, they never click at all. The work was ultimately good, but it was just missing something, I feel. Goto scored the win at the 11:20 mark after hitting the Ushigoroshi into the Final Cut, then the GTR to get the 2 points. The Jay White/Jon Moxley match that followed, whilst very good, was another disappointment. Once again, there was just too much bullshit and shenanigans for my liking. There was a lot of stalling, a lot of interference, and the token ref bumps, all of which helped to dilute what should have been a very heated match, even if the closing stretch did save it somewhat. Moxley worked over Jay’s knee, locking on the Cloverleaf and an STF, before Jay came back with the suplex into the corner, a Saito suplex and the Deadlift German (which Moxley barely got over on), for a near fall. The Urinage gets a near fall for White, before Mox fires back with his release vertical suplex, which looked great. He then hit the Regal Knee Trembler, and a double arm DDT for a near fall, before White bumped the ref (yawn), and Gedo ran in and nailed Moxley with the brass knuckles. White then hit two sleeper suplexes, a cross arm Bloody Sunday, and the match-winning Blade Runner to end this at the 15:15 mark. I’m a big Jay White fan, I think he’s great and has a superstar aura, and I know they’re protected Moxley something fierce, but really, this sort of stuff does nobody any favours.

Thank God then for the main event, which was tremendous. L.I.J. exploded as Tetsuya Naito took on Shingo Takagi in a fantastic battle. Naito took an incredible beating here, and even though he won, he put Shingo over huge. This couldn’t really have gone any better, and came across like a classic G1 outing. They started with a nice chain wresting and feeling out process, but then Naito spat in Takagi’s face, which lit a fire under the Dragon. Shingo proceeded to destroy his stablemate with some of the hardest Lariats you’ll ever see. He countered a Tornado DDT into a Death Valley Bomb, then tried to cave in Naito’s chest with the Tenryu elbow off the top. Naito escaped a sliding lariat attempt, and hits an enzugiri. He tries the second rope reverse rana, but Shingo escapes and hits Noshigami. Naito counters a Pumping Bomber with a Koppo Kick, then hits Gloria for a near fall. Shingo hits a nasty looking Wheelbarrow German into the corner, then tries the super Death Valley Bomb off the second, which Naito turns into a Frankensteiner. Naito hits the reverse rana, but in trying a Destino, he runs straight into an ungodly Lariat, which looked like it killed him. A Made In Japan attempt is turned into a Dragon Suplex by Naito, but Shingo finally hits M.I.J. for a great near fall, followed by a Pumping Bomber, which decimates Naito, for another near fall. Last Of The Dragon is turned into Destino. They have a strike exchange, which Takagi obviously wins, crumpling Naito with a headbutt, but Naito hits a brainbuster out of nowhere for the double down. Naito hits a Canadian Destroyer, then Destino, but Shingo kicks out at 2.9! Another Destino follows, and Naito finally puts Shingo away at the 27:15 mark. This was fanatastic, and had a great backstory with both guys training at Animal Hamaguchi’s gym as teenagers, and being rivals. The ending was never really in any doubt, and even though I’d have preferred Shingo to have won this, he lost nothing in defeat, in fact he gained everything in that it was very similar to the Nakamura vs. Ibushi G1 23 match at this very building, which was a star making turn for Ibushi.

After this, the standings are that only Okada, Ibushi and EVIL are alive in the A Block (though KENTA holds a tie breaker over Ibushi and EVIL), so only one of those could realistically win, whereas the B BLock has Moxley in the lead, and a whole log jam of guys tied at 8 points. Those being Naito, Jay White, Ishii and Goto.

NDT

[pakioutfits]

Mausummery Fashionista Pret Collection 2017 For Women

Mausummery Fashionista Pret Collection 2017 For Women

[nggallery id=103]

[youngmagazin]

Kayseria Charming Lawn Dresses Collection 2017

Kayseria Launched new Dresses Collection 2017 for Young Girls & women.A new addition to playful colors with running embroidered patterns will be the new trend this Eid. Ranging from Floral and Fun to Delicate and Classic, the Kayseria Charm runs like magic through every single outfit.

Embroidered Deep blue shirt with purple, pink and beige threadwork florals paired with embroidered dupatta and solid pants.

A new addition to playful colors with running embroidered patterns will be the new trend this Eid. Ranging from Floral and Fun to Delicate and Classic, the Kayseria Charm runs like magic through every single outfit.

Digitally Printed loose fit top with Tassels adorned with dori Belt at Waist Line & organza ruffles.

A new addition to playful colors with running embroidered patterns will be the new trend this Eid. Ranging from Floral and Fun to Delicate and Classic, the Kayseria Charm runs like magic through every single outfit.

[irp]

‘Kayser’ is Saffron. ‘Kayseri’ is the color of Saffron. Kayseria is the Jogi, the pilgrim adorned in the unstitched Saffron robe. The Jogi sets out to discover the beauty that transcends this world’s confined concepts and journeys onto something magical and majestic.

A Kayseria design is made with the sincere intention to adorn the wearer and enhance their beauty. Our designs are contemporary and timeless because of their strong roots. These designs are original because they remind us of our pure origin. When you wear Kayseria’s designed fabrics they will look good today and with our high standards and fabric quality, they will look good in years to come.

[irp]

The soil and soul of our land are our biggest inspiration and we have celebrated the ethnic genius of all parts of the sub-continent. Our inspirations are drawn from all over the world. We have brought together all these inspirations under one roof to show you that beauty is universal.

Indulge in our printed fabrics, embroideries, embellishments and special editions.

Kayseria Charming Lawn Dresses Collection 2017

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Kayseria Charming Lawn Dresses Collection 2017 Kayseria Charming Lawn Dresses Collection 2017 Kayseria Launched new Dresses Collection 2017 for Young Girls & women.A new addition to playful colors with running embroidered patterns will be the new trend this Eid.

[maanfashion]

Hast Kala Salwar Suit for Retail Boutique

Hast Kala Salwar Suit for Retail Boutique

No of pieces: 08 Stitch Type: Semi-stitch

Top: Lawn Cotton Digital Print With Embroidery Bottom: Pure Cotton 2.80mtr Dupatta: Cotton Print With Lace 2.4mtr Full Set only [easy_media_download url= “https://maanfashion.co.in/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Hast-kala.rar” text=”Download Catalog”color=”red_darker”]

Levisha Wholesaler Salwar Suit Categories Salwar Suit Brand Levisha Tags

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

A history of tennis fashion and skirts: Why are they still such a must?

Serena Williams competing at the U.S Open 2018. (Photo: TPN/Getty Images)

On the first night of the U.S. Open, Serena Williams took the high road and responded to her catsuit ban by wearing a fabulous black tutu.

The French Tennis Federation president, Bernard Giudicelli, recently said Williams’s Wakanda-inspired catsuit (her words) “will no longer be accepted,” during an interview with Tennis magazine. “One must respect the game and the place.”

Discussion soon erupted on what type of tennis attire is considered appropriate or not. Tennis legend Billie Jean King chimed in on the conversation, slamming French Open officials for the ban. “The policing of women’s bodies must end,” she wrote in a Twitter post. “The ‘respect’ that’s needed is for the exceptional talent ⁦@serenawilliams⁩ brings to the game. Criticizing what she wears to work is where the true disrespect lies.” 

Williams didn’t let the controversy deter her from winning her first U.S. Open match against Magda Linette on Monday. For the occasion, she paired her black tutu with an edgy leather moto jacket, asymmetrical leotard, and white sneakers. The look is part of the new “Queen” collection inspired by the tennis star and made in a collaboration between Virgil Abloh, the acclaimed Off-White designer, and Nike.

With this look, the 23-time Grand Slam winner continues her stride as a statement-making fashion star on the tennis court, and, as history shows — she’s not alone. Anne White was the first player to wear a catsuit on the court, which caused quite a stir at Wimbledon in 1985. Unconventional tennis fashions have been worn by male players too. A notable example is Andre Agassi, who wore denim shorts to the U.S. Open in 1988. Serena Williams longtime rival, Maria Sharapova, explored creative fashion as well, wearing a tuxedo-style blouse at Wimbledon in 2008.

Despite these fashion-making moments, the iconic tennis skirt continues to be the key sartorial piece in the game. Above, a look at how tennis fashion has changed over the years and why the skirt endures.

Players in the Pavilion in University Park, Oxford, circa 1900. (Photo: Past Pix/SSPL/Getty Images)

During the 1900s, long-sleeved blouses and long maxi skirts were the style of choice for tennis players. “Tennis started out in the Victorian era in England as a lawn sport for the aristocracy,” said Ben Rothenberg, author of The Stylish Life: Tennis, on CNN.

Modest tennis fashion dominated the era, as seen below on a tennis player who wears a pussy-bow blouse with ballooned sleeves, long white skirt, and white sneakers, all covering up nearly every inch of skin.

Female tennis player circa 1900. (Photo: Getty Images)

The 1920s saw a loosening of dress codes with the introduction of sleeveless blouses and higher hemlines. Pleats also became a popular stylistic choice.

Here, Olympic and Wimbledon champion Suzanne Lenglen wears a knee-length pleated skirt. She accessorizes the look with a soft head wrap.

Suzanne Lenglen (Photo: Hulton-Deutsch Collection/Corbis via Getty Images)

In the 1930s, skirts and hemlines continued to hit the knee, but pantyhose was no longer required in the dress code. Women began to wear polo shorts or another alternative: drop waist dresses or those cinched at the waist.

Cilly Aussem, left, after defeating Hilde Krahwinkel for the women’s singles title at Wimbledon in 1931. (Photo: S.R. Gaiger/Topical Press Agency/Getty)

By the 1940s, women embraced shorts for greater mobility on the court, but they still kept them classy (of course). Here, American tennis player Pauline Betz wears a short-sleeve blouse tucked into her high-waisted, soft pleated shorts and a belt to tie it all together.

Pauline Betz of the United States at Wimbledon in 1946. (Photo: Central Press/Getty Images)

In the 1950s, when Marilyn Monroe’s famous windy skirt photograph became an iconic moment in film history, tennis players like Lea Percioli bent the rules of traditional tennis fashion.

Her style on the court was often featured in the press, where Percioli embraced short skirts and dresses, even if that meant showing more than she planned on.

Glamorous Italian tennis star Lea Percioli in 1955. (Photo: Getty Images)

By the 1960s, mod fashion was front and center. Women took a more playful approach, embracing sleeveless tops and shirts with stripes, gingham, and other graphic prints like those seen here on  Virginia Wade and Lorna Greveille-Collins of England and Marlys Burel of France.

From left, Virginia Wade, Lorna Greville-Collins, and Marlys Burel. (Photo: George Freston/Fox Photos/Getty Images)

The 1970s was all about psychedelia. Colorful prints and patterns dominated the fashion scene, and this influenced tennis fashions, too, as exhibited here in a look worn by Martina Navratilova.

Martina Navratilova at Wimbledon in 1977. (Photo: Tony Duffy/Allsport)

The 1980s witnessed a controversial look by American player Anne White, who wore a white spandex catsuit by designer Ted Tinling during her first match at Wimbledon. Little did she know that Serena Williams would sport a similar catsuit at the French Open more than 30 years later.

Anne White in her revolutionary one-piece. (Photo: Getty Images)

The 1990s were all about bright colors, loud prints, and plenty of scrunchies on the tennis court. German champ Steffi Graf wears a colorful floral skirt with a matching polo shirt and white scrunchie in her hair at the French Open in 1995.

Steffi Graf (Photo: Clive Brunskill/AllSport)

By the 2000s, brands like Adidas and Nike were emblazoned on tennis outfits of the top athletes. Here, Russian player Anna Kournikova wears head-to-toe Adidas.

Anna Kournikova (Photo: Al Bello/Getty Images)

In 2008, tennis champions Serena Williams and Maria Sharapova pushed the envelope of traditional tennis attire at Wimbledon, a bastion of traditionalism. Williams opted for a white trench coat, while Sharapova wore a tuxedo-style pleated blouse tucked into white shorts — and both looks were designed by Nike.

Unfortunately, Sharapova wasn’t able to wear her new look for too long, as she was eliminated in the second round. Her winning opponent, Alla Kudryavtseva, had this to say of Sharapova’s look, “I was pleased to beat her: I didn’t like her outfit.”

Serena Williams (Photo: Ryan Pierse/Getty Images)

Maria Sharapova (Photo: Clive Brunskill/Getty Images)

In 2010, tennis fashion took a more scandalous approach when Venus Williams wore a lingerie-like, sheer black-lace dress with red piping, designed by Williams for her fashion label, EleVen.

Venus Williams (Photo: Clive Brunskill/Getty Images)

In 2011, Venus Williams continued her fashion stride, sporting atypical tennis attire.

At the Australian Open, Williams sported a yellow woven, cut-out tank with a splash of color.

Venus Williams (Photo: Julian Finney/Getty Images)

In 2015, Maria Sharapova traded in her 2008 tuxedo shirt for a classic stripe shirt over what would become known as the “Nike Maria Paris dress,” an adjoining white racerback tank top connected to a pleated navy mini.

Maria Sharapova (Photo: Clive Mason/Getty Images)

In 2016, Serena Williams sported a classic all-white look in deference to Wimbledon’s all-white policy.

Serena Williams (Photo: Lindsey Parnaby/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)

In 2017, 24-year-old Sloane Stephens won the U.S. Open women’s singles competition wearing a sherbet-orange tank dress and matching visor and shoes by Under Armour.

Sloane Stephens (Photo: Al Bello/Getty Images)

In 2018, Serena Williams debuts her Wakanda-inspired black catsuit at the French Open, which was designed to help prevent blood clots, a health issue she has been prone to.

The catsuit came under scrutiny by French Tennis Federation president Bernard Giudicelli, who recently said the style would “no longer be accepted.”

Serena Williams at the 2018 French Open. (Photo: Xin Li/Getty Images)

In the wake of this controversy, Williams debuted a brand-new look for the U.S. Open on August 27: a black tutu skirt, made by Off-White and Nike.

Serena Williams (Photo: TPN/Getty Images)

Read More from Yahoo Lifestyle:

• Did Meghan Markle inspire pal Serena Williams’s $90 ‘Royal Duchess’ hoodie?  • Serena Williams inspires mothers to share their parenting stories ahead of the U.S. Open  • Venus Williams expands fashion label into plus-size: ‘Representation matters’

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day. 

[bloomingbedminster]

PRESS RELEASE: Tenth birthday for Bedminster’s Secret Gardens

In 2006 a few residents in Bedminster got together to open their back gardens for charity. Unlike most open garden schemes where the gardens are usually very large, Bedminster’s Secret Gardens was aiming to highlight the amazing green spaces that could be created in very small urban gardens. Just nine gardens took place in the first Secret Gardens event back in 2006, since then 96 beautiful gardens have taken part in Bedminster’s Secret gardens and the event has become one of the biggest open garden events in the UK outside London.

On 18/19th June, Bedminster’s Secret Gardens returns for its tenth event - with over 30 gardens open for people to visit - including 8 opening for the first time. The free Secret Gardens guide and map is now available online or printed copies can be picked up at Riverside Garden Centre, The Southville Centre (Beauley Road), Southville Deli (North St) or Windmill Hill City Farm (Philip Street). On the weekend, donate £3 per adult at the first garden you visit, get a sticker and then visit as many gardens as you like over the weekend.

The challenges of Covid lockdown over the past few years has shown just how important access to outdoor space is for people’s wellbeing. Gardens can help improve physical and mental health, and have helped many people get through the Covid Lockdowns. That was the case for Casey-Beth in Bedminster, her garden was developed during the lockdown. ‘Nestled between trees and climbers, this garden does a bit of everything, from growing veg and flowers, to a spot for cocktails and lawn for the pooches. Born in lockdown, it was a lifesaver’ says Casey-Beth who is opening her garden for the first time this year.

City Gardens are not just good for people, but they are vital for wildlife. Also opening their gardens for the first time are Sophie and Constance. Their gardens in Ashton and Ashton Gate are playing an important role in helping to reverse the decline in Hedgehogs. The BS3 Hedgehog Project is a group of local residents raising hedgehog awareness and making positive changes to help our hedgehog

population in BS3. ‘Creating ‘hog-houses’, hog-highways by linking gardens and making other small changes to your garden can help protect our hedgehogs’ says Sophie. ‘Even is my tiny garden, we now get regular hedgehog visitors that we’ve captured on film’ says Constance. Bedminster’s Secret Gardens is also part of this year's Bristol Festival of Nature.

However small the outdoor space is, you can create a garden - Bedminster’s Secret Gardens provides an opportunity to see some beautiful small gardens, and get ideas for your own garden. ‘Whether you’re interested in growing flower, fruit or vegetables, creating a water feature or a green roof, encouraging wildlife, or simply creating a green space to relax - Bedminster’s Secret Gardens has something for you’ says Matthew Symonds, who helps organise Bedminster’s Secret Garden.

Notes for Editors

Bedminster’s Secret Gardens tenth event takes place over the weekend on Saturday 18 and Saturday 19 June, gardens are open from 12-5pm

Previous events have taken place in 2006, 2007, 2009, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2021 (a virtual online event took place in 2020 during the Covid lockdown)

31 gardens will be open in 2022 (see guide for details)

Free guide and map available onlinehttps://static.onlinesurveys.ac.uk/media/account/6115/survey/859416/question/secret_garden_map_and_guide_fo.pdf

Free printed guides available from Riverside Garden Centre, the Southville Centre (Beauley Road), Southville Deli (North Street) and Windmill Hill City Farm (Philip Street).

All funds raised by Bedminster’s Secret Gardens will support community gardening and environmental projects across BS3.

Bedminster’s Secret Gardens weekend is organised by Blooming Bedminster, the community group that’s organises and supports local gardening and environmental projects across BS3.

For more information contact organiser Matthew Symonds

Phone07986 293356

Email bloomingbedminster@outlook.com

Web bloomingbedminster.org.uk

Other links

Bristol Festival of Nature -https://www.bnhc.org.uk/festival-of-nature/events/

BS3 Hedgehog Project -https://www.facebook.com/BS3.Hedgehog.Project/

[youngmagazin]

Khaadi Lawn Vol 2 Printed Satin Collection 2017 For Ladies

Khaadi has launched many dresses collection 2017 for this Summer season.But freshly this old fashion brand has launched Beautiful silk satin infused with geometrical prints and botanical flowers.These dresses are designed according to the new fashion trend.In stores and online starting April 15. #Khaadilawnvol2.This collection you are also can but online.Check some new designs of this collection here at this page of trendglobe.com

Beautiful silk satin infused with geometrical prints and botanical flowers. In stores and online starting April 15.

Khaadi first opened its doors in 1998 in Karachi, Pakistan offering customers kurtas and loose fabric made from hand-woven fabric. Shamoon Sultan, the chairman, and founder had the intent of reviving the ancient craft of the handloom and popularizing the traditional medium in a contemporary manner. Khaadi, which means “hand-woven”, has stayed true to its name and continues to produce a fusion of styles to complement both the east and west, while still using hand-woven fabrics on select products.

Khaadi defines its lines as Concepts and initially had Prêt (Ready-to-Wear), Unstitched (Fabric) and Man (Eastern Wear). Over the years, Khaadi has introduced a number of new Concepts including Khaas (featuring exclusive and limited-edition pieces), Kids (for 2-12-year-olds), Accessories (jewelry, stoles, and handbags) and Home (featuring furniture, bedding and bath items).

In 2010, Khaadi entered into the international arena by exporting to various regions. The online store was launched in Pakistan in 2014 and Khaadi will look to open its digital doors to various countries going forward. The company continues its aggressive expansion strategy by opening several retail stores in smaller cities of Pakistan.In order to further grow and expand the business in a sustainable manner, we have corporatized our business and for this purpose have setup Khaadi (SMC – Private) Limited (formally K-Clothing (SMC – Private) Limited) with effect from 1 May 2016.

Khaadi has launched many dresses collection 2017 for this Summer season.But freshly this old fashion brand has launched Beautiful silk satin infused with geometrical prints and botanical flowers.These dresses are designed according to the new fashion trend.In stores and online starting April 15. #Khaadilawnvol2.This collection you are also can but online.Check some new designs of this collection here at this page of trendglobe.com

Khaadi Lawn Vol 2 Printed Satin Collection 2017 For Young Girls

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Khaadi Lawn Vol 2 Printed Satin Collection 2017 For Ladies Khaadi Lawn Vol 2 Printed Satin Collection 2017 For Ladies Khaadi has launched many dresses collection 2017 for this Summer season.But freshly this old fashion brand has launched Beautiful silk satin infused with geometrical prints and botanical flowers.These dresses are designed according to the new fashion trend.In stores and online starting April 15.

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Savera Salwar Suit Wholesale Catalogue

Savera Salwar Suit Wholesale Catalogue

No of pieces: 08 Stitch Type: Semi-stitch

Top: Cambric Cotton Print With Neck Embroidery Bottom: Semi Lawn 2.75mtr Dupatta: Chiffon Print Full Set only [easy_media_download url= “https://maanfashion.co.in/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Savera.rar” text=”Download Catalog”color=”red_darker”]

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An American Project

I visited The Whitney Museum to see the Dawoud Bey exhibit titled Dawoud Bey: An American Project. The show was a retrospective, including work ranging from the mid-seventies to 2017. The work was generally large-format, with silver darkroom gelatin prints 4.5 feet in length. Bey’s earlier work and most recent work were silver-gelatin photographic prints. A handful of digital inkjet prints filled one room and huge-scale 20x24 polaroids, some arranged in mosaic-panoramas, filled another. The work generally focused on portraying the personality and character of underrepresented people and minorities.

Kerry and Cheryl 1993

Featuring experimental painter Kerry James Marshall and actor/director/playwright Cheryl Lynn Bruce, this two-polaroid panorama is an image that can only truly be experienced in person. Digital photographs do not do it justice. I think that this is a beautiful marriage between technique and subject. There is an intensity to Cheryl’s stare directly into the camera and a gentleness to Kerry’s gaze. The polaroid features incredible vibrancy, complemented by the bright paper backdrop. The detail produced by the giant-format images from the 240-lb 20x24 polaroid camera is stunning. The dynamic range is poor, as expected from a polaroid. However, Bey has worked intentionally with this. Cheryl’s all-black outfit disappears and creates a bold contrast against the backdrop and Kerry’s hand. It adds to the intensity and almost fearsomeness that Cheryl brings to the image. I also took a photograph of the beautiful, organic, almost psychedelic polaroid dye artifacts at the edges. It makes the image almost feel like it was painted onto the paper.

Untitled #23 (Near Lake Erie) from “Night Coming Tenderly, Black,” 2017

Again an image intended to be experienced as a print, Untitled #23 is part of a series invoking a viewer to put themselves in the shoes of a fugitive slave. The images are printed with very high contrast and are overexposed several stops under an enlarger. The series follows a sort of progression. Almost voyeuristic images of underground railroad safe houses, many near where I grew up along the Ohio River, attempt to recreate the eyes of an escaped slave running to freedom, represented by Lake Erie. The images are printed dark on glossy paper so that the viewer must stare until their eyes adjust in a day-for-night type effect. There is also, presumably, a subtext about empathizing with black people in creating images that are mostly black tones. This particular composition offers a “light at the end of the tunnel”. A final stop on the underground railroad. One can imagine climbing over that crest, following the sound of lapping waves below.

Dawoud Bey’s work was, as a whole, phenomenal. I enjoyed his street photography the most. His subjects were so incredibly comfortable with his photographing them, and he captured such character. Put simply: Bey is an incredible talent with an outstanding eye for naturalistic and dynamic composition.

I will offer a critique regarding the “Night Coming Tenderly” series. Nearly all of the images really captured me, and I thought his printing technique was very strong. But I felt that some of the images were not especially evocative if you pulled back the layer of technical trickery. Chaotic, overgrown honeysuckle with no subject or awkwardly framed lawns just felt like they did not stand on their own as well as his images of Lake Erie. To me, it felt like the technique took precedent over the content. In my opinion, that rarely works. Nonetheless, as a collection it was effective.

I think that Dawoud Bey has stunningly captured an important portrait of American history across all of his work. It was so wonderful to be back in a museum looking at real prints for the first time since Covid. I walked away from the exhibit feeling excited and inspired to make more work of my own. Although I was frustrated by NYU’s discontinuation of the free Whitney admission, I really recommend that anyone interested buy pay-what-you-can Friday tickets in advance and go see the work in person. The silver gelatin and the polaroid prints deserve to be seen physically.

Sam Smith