The reason Six of Crows was so appealing is that it’s not a story about Chosen Ones and prophecies and only certain people being special enough to have an adventure. It boldly said that anyone could go on an exciting, daring adventure if one was simply brave enough to welcome it. It was an inspiration for all of us non-extraordinary common folk to see that we too can be gay and do crimes and break into the ice pentagon with nothing but a couple of buddies and a questionable will to live and in this essay i will
One of the oldest “Beware of the Dog” signs in the world. Domus del Poeta Tragico, PompeiiThe House of the Tragic Poet is a typical 2nd century BC Roman house in Pompeii, Italy. The vestibule floor was decorated with a mosaic picture of a
domesticated dog leashed and chained to an arbitrary point. Below the
figure were the words “CAVE CANEM”, an ancient warning equivalent to the modern “Beware of the Dog”.
“Hey,”
Kevin says as soon as Neil picks up, “are you home this weekend?”
Neil
glances at the calendar tacked to the kitchen wall. The two cases are colored
gray but empty.
“Sure,” he
says. “Why?”
There’s
shuffling on the other side of the phone. Kevin sounds distracted, his
inability to concentrate on two things at once evident. “We were driving to
Thea’s parents’,” he says, “but her father’s in the hospital.”
The
coffeemaker beeps when it’s done, and Neil pours himself a mug. He’ll need it,
if he wants to follow Kevin’s complicated conclusions.
Just imagine imagine Neil getting forwarded an article abt him and noticing his crows feet and smile lines in the picture they chose, and then, later, just staring at himself in the mirror and tracing the lines with his thumb. Just marveling at this face that’s aged. Pulling at his hand through his hair to look @ the greys, every mark of aging feeling like a victory
Following up to this post, here’s a fantastic look at Victorian “fancy dress balls”–they were all the rage at the time, but really picked up in the later half of the century where the focus was more on self-expression than hiding oneself, as was the case at 18th-century masquerades (Phantom hearkens back to this earlier tradition, but the idea of a masquerade hiding one’s true identity also works perfectly for its theatrical setting).
Hereare some wackier costumes from fancy dress balls. I’m in love with this one:
And look! A bee!
Here’s a fashion plate with some costume ideas from across the centuries (and of course, we wouldn’t be in the Victorian era if there weren’t a bit of tone-deaf cultural appropriation with the Native American costume.):
It was actually common for women to wear shorter skirts at these balls so they could show off their fabulous boots (as you see above, and as is the case with Christine’s stage version of the Star Princess dress):
Depending on your host, masks of all kinds were welcome, so you were free to be as unsettlingly disturbing as you wanted while you lounged by the punch bowl and made rabbit eyes at the eligible young heiress whose hand in marriage comes with fifty thousand pounds a year and a lifetime of resentment because women’s rights didn’t exist yet:
Suppose you can’t make it to the most fashionable balls London or Paris this season. If it’s 1883 and you are Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt and happen to have $6 million of disposable income at your fingertips, why not throw your own fancy dress ball for New York City’s elite (and spend millions on champagne alone)? And why don’t you one-up every single one of your guests by dressing as that most wondrous of new inventions, Edison’s electric light? I defy the Rockefellers to steal your spotlight when the spotlight in question could very easily electrocute them.
Like flowers? Of course you do. Like spring? Oh, my God, do you ever. Like pretending you’re but a mere shepherdess, giggling and flouncing away from the advances of the blacksmith’s apprentice? GOOD LORD, YES. Like the 18th century? HELL YES, OH MAN, GIMME THAT ROCOCO SPRING FLOWER EXPLOSION:
BUT WAIT! You’re not gonna let that Rococo Spring Flower Explosion HARLOT flounce away with your suitor, are you? HELL NO, YOU ARE NOT. Which is why you are prepared to send her running dressed as a GORGEOUS FREAKING BUTTERFLY:
But where would a butterfly be without a lovely flower upon which to perch? Enter your secret lesbian lover, the Rose:
Or, if you’re uncomfortable with NOT being the center of attention every waking moment, you could just pull the equivalent of one-upping the bride at a wedding by wearing white and come dressed as the DAMN SUN:
But maybe you’re more of the goth persuasion. Might I suggest a tasteful sorceress?
A dainty Batman ensemble to match your wife’s delicate moth angel gown?
Vampire mistress of the night, perhaps?
Actually, bat motifs were an extremely popular costume option, not just in the 19th century, but also at 18th century balls:
But if it’s 1880 and you want to carry on grandma’s bat tradition, this might be a more modern take on a pocket-sized blood-sucking demon:
Or this:
You are so thrilled to attend the costume ball like the goth nightmare you are, you can hardly contain your enthusiasm:
Here is a tastefully acceptable take on Satan. Might I sample your punch, Mrs. Higgenbottom, before I make away with your soul?
“Oh, Ella!”
“Yes, Constance?”
“Oh, I do so love your seagull gown.”
“Oh, why thank you, my dear friend!”
“But I’ve not the slightest idea what I shall wear to the ball!”
“Why, Constance, it is a simple matter of identifying something near and dear to your heart and then adapting it into a suitable costume. I, for example, find solace in the sea, particularly in the birds of the sea, and most particularly when they nose-dive into and defecate upon the boat, shrieking like banshees in heat. Hence, the seagulls adorning my gown. What do you like the very most, Constance?”
“MOTHER-EFFING LOBSTERS.”
Or, maybe you’re just a shameless ho and don’t give a brass farthing about showing your ankles, your calves, your thighs, or your hoo-ha at the Embassy Ball, in which case, blaze it:
