Scents and senses:
Naked wrists that smell like an orgy of Bulgarian roses…
Powdered faces punctuated with violent scarlet pouts…
Bare, elegantly bent necks caressed by cumbersome crucifixes…
Soft mounds of cleavage framed by two sharp, unsheathed daggers of ivory collarbone…
Lashes of laces indented into tender flesh, brutally marked by the steel cage of a tightly laced corset…
A bite of deep purple fig dripping with warm ribbons of triple cream brie…
An eternally vexed visage adorned with molten streams of gold – dying to live in a Klimt painting…
The Muses:
Amazigh women
Violet Chachki
Reading material:
The Perfumed Garden by Shaykh Nefzawi
Technological Slavery by Theodore J. Kaczynski
Draconomicon: The Book of Ancient Dragon Magick by Joshua Free
Palestine on a Plate by Joudie Kalla
A feast for the eyes:
Armor and the art of artifice:
calme majestueux and calculated restraint – after living a few years cage-free – partially because I lost a significant amount of weight and didn’t have any properly fitting corsets available any longer – I’ve finally invested in a properly fitted corset that delivers a smooth, elegantly curved Edwardian shape that will eventually cinch down to 20 inches. Although I will forever be infatuated with the 1940’s femme fatale aesthetic, for the past year or so, I have been magnetically drawn to the demure restraint and flowing, uninterrupted silhouettes of the Edwardian era. These days I am more monk slash scholar than anything, and overt sex appeal is far too animalistic for my tastes. After all, sensuality and seduction is more about the organ between your ears than anything. I find great satisfaction in walking the tightrope between animalistic base desire and the calculated discipline and restraint that comes from transcending the material realms.
Although absolutely gorgeous on others, for my current personal tastes, the bombshell aesthetic lacks the dark mystery and intrigue that I crave. I much prefer strategic slits, unexpected cutouts, or a glimpse of an underrated part of the body. I still love slinky 1940s rayon numbers, but the conventional bombshell look makes me feel so easily accessible. I’ve developed an intense love for androgyny and “ugly” beauty i.e. faces and fashions that go against the grain of the majority of society. I love seeing a sculptural nose, a tattooed face, silent film style brows or no brows at all, a face adorned with piercings, and an unapologetically bold maquillage. I just see too many wannabe Marilyn Monroe and Kim Kardashian clones everywhere. It’s the horrific sameness that I object to, not the bombshell look itself. I admire those who explore and embrace less mainstream ideas of beauty. I appreciate originality. Hopefully the infamous “Instagram face” will slowly give way to eccentric, unorthodox glamour in an inevitable knee-jerk reaction to the cage that society forges for us. Homogenous beauty is the greatest crime against imagination! I love what Alessandro Michele (no stranger to eccentric glamour himself!) has been doing for Gucci Beauty these days…
Viewing privileges, whether a glimpse into a brilliant mind or underneath a glossy black satin bullet bustier…should be earned. Cerebral Cerebus. Triple-headed. Triple formed. Never the same twice. A manufacturer of moods. An author of aesthetics. There is something so appealing about jet black floor length skirts that elegantly trail behind you as you walk – and who knows what mysteries lie beneath the swaths of petticoats and embroidered wool fabric! A leather garter belt? A strategically hidden jambiya acquired on one of your many adventures through the bazaar? Two tattooed cobras slithering around bare ankles? The options…the fantasies… are endless…
girl with a pearl (lip)ring – to combat the severe ascetic aesthetic of an all black ensemble, I love the idea of placing moon colored pearls on my lips…a slightly sensual nod to Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” ❤
As Maria Callas once famously said:
thecomradegeneral.wordpress.com 