Lingerie and the Woman You Love

As a part of my Honours coursework, my studies assess the effect of subcultures within society. This required a presentation on the particular subculture, and its interrelation with its immediate community.

It is a difficult subject, as there is often little available research on the particular subcultures, and time constraints prohibited the ethics clearance required for interviews which would have enhanced the anthropological aspects of the study.

I am sure many of you would not be surprised that my topic encompassed lingerie, femininity, and feminine agency. The study contrasted the effects of feminism, arguing that its embracing of masculine ideals as models for empowerment effectively devalued women's inherent value propositions, which centre predominantly around femininity and intrinsic female roles. 

Before anyone starts tossing quotes from Greer or Friedan from left of stage, the paper did not refute the important benefits of feminism, nor did it espouse pre-feminism. Instead it valorised the feminine not in response to masculine hegemonic predilections, but as a complimentary proposition to wrest balance between the sexes, and to re-appropriate the feminine ideal.

A presentation on such a subject would require a woman to be appropriately attired. As you know from this weblog of mine, this particular woman dresses in two distinct stages: from her underwear to her outerwear. There were some lovely new items of apparel I was keen to appropriate for my presentation, and a very lovely surprise which I am sure many of you would appreciate, and which I would like to share with you here.

Before we dispense with the formalities, I am pleased to concede that the presentation went extremely well and garnered considerable attention, even without me revealing [exactly] what I was concealing. There were certainly some raised eyebrows at the hints to my undergarments.

First, my ensemble in its entirety:

There is my beautiful cardi, my full petticoat and gorgeous What Katie Did stockings, suspenders, bullet bra and Morticia corset. But you clever readers have spied something else, haven't you ...

What an eye for detail you have! But first you must admire the detail of the beauty here:

and here:

How can a girl resist such divine luxury from her heel to her garter strap?

You can't wait, can you? Yes, you are quite right, it is she ... and it is her original autograph. 

You don't believe me do you?

It is true. I have it here.

Dita von Teese's autographed card. Just for me!

Let me know if you are more interested in my final paper*, than my outer- and under-garments, and I shall send you a copy ... 

... but I know you: Wicked!

xx

* on lingerie, femininity, and feminine agency  - in case you forgot! (pettichrome@gmail.com)

Wednesday

As many of you know, I have been busying myself with my minor thesis and coursework. After submitting my first draft chapter, I am letting my thesis rest while I research for three coursework subjects - droll work indeed.

What a pleasant surprise it was, then, to hear from an old friend who is visiting my town to open a joint exhibition. I was kindly invited to attend the opening tomorrow evening, and to enjoy the same privilege next month at the solo exhibition!

And just as nice was a lovely package from What Katie Did. With a few lovely items for my sister who has been so very kind, and a little something for me.  A girl has to have a tiny indulgence.

Can you guess what they were?


Here's a clue: It appears in a picture somewhere on this blog!


Happy hunting ...

xx

How Far I've Come

So much time has passed since my last post, and although it was filled with unprecedented activity, I must admit I have missed you.

As you know, I took a little sojourn abroad. Since then I was hurled into a whirlwind of obligations: at home and at university. In those first weeks of November I handed in my final assignments - some a little earlier than expected. A dear friend called me in those heady days to share some dreadful news: the company he owned had been sabotaged by a fellow director while he had spent the past 18 months, some 4000 km away, setting up a new office. The effects were devastating. Even though it was not due until the following week, I wrote into the early hours and through the next day so I could submit my final assignment, and be available if he needed me.

When he called the next day things had become worse. I sped down to the university to hand in my essay, which they thankfully accepted even though the faculty had closed. I arrived home to find the girl dearest to me with my favourite flowers to celebrate the end of my degree. I explained what had happened, and she agreed that I should help him pack his apartment and the new business address so he could return to head office immediately. How very cruel it seemed to ask her to cancel her celebratory plans and take those beautiful flowers back with her.

I had 30 minutes to organise my flight, taxi and suitcase, and negotiate a lift to take that sweet girl home. The plane was the last one to leave town, and I was exhausted when I arrived at my destination some six hours later.

The next few days were spent packing his home and office. I do not envy the personal grief he had to endure during those dark days. On the third day he flew back to head office while I spent that, and the next, packing and cleaning his apartment. After the removalists left I took his magnificent vehicle to the international terminal to be shipped home. Because of the airport curfew I waited seven hours before catching the last plane to his home town.

The flight travelled through the night to arrive four and a half hours later at 6:00am. With a chatty passenger beside me, I disembarked without sleeping. I was met and whisked to a shower, and then went into the office for a ten hour day. Although it is not my line of business, I did what I could there for the next two weeks before flying home. I had so much to do. My little house was evidence of serious neglect while I had studied. But I also eagerly awaited my final grades and looked forward to my graduation.

How very excited I was to be awarded four high distinctions for the semester, and a high distinction average for my course. My graduation day was such a special day for me, and I was so pleased to be offered Honours. I spent it with my beloved "flower" girl, and my dear friend who flew in especially.

The next day I packed up the car and my puppy and we took a 12 hour road trip - the first day of a four week holiday. I spent time at beaches, by the pool, with good books, but most importantly with family and friends.

Now I am back and am unpacking, I have something to show you. It is something delicious, and something you know I love especially.

Can you wait until the next post?

I promise to post pictures ...

I hope you have been good, and have accrued a few pretty packages of your own.

Shall we share?

xx

Ruby's New Blog

Dear Petticoats and Chrome Readers,

As many of you have undoubtedly gathered, I am currently studying at university. I don't often get to blog at the moment, as we near the end of semester and deadlines for final assignments loom.

One of my subjects this semester is Poetry and Poetics. A fine relief from heavily researched based subjects and a pleasant creative opportunity for someone who enjoys writing, and likes it to be a little less structured.

That seems a little oxymoronic when one considers how concise and structured poetry can be ... but rest assured my work is not quite that adept, which is why I have opened a little blog, especially for her. I was hoping you might pop over, have a look, and leave your respected opinions to help improve it. I don't mind if you think it dross and tell me so, you can even remain anonymous.

Even if you are not a follower here, I would love to see you at Ruby's blog.

I shall be in the kitchen with my apron on. Come by and we can have tea and cupcakes.

xx

Yes Sir, She's My Baby

It has been a long and exhausting search, but I am so glad to have found my new home.

It is more than I ever hoped for. When I lost the home I lived in for so long I was not sure I would be able to afford another beautiful Deco-rus baby.
My situation had been rather restrictive, I shan't bore you with the ugly bits, but suffice to say I sold everything I had of significant value to secure her. I could not procure help from friends, family or the bank (as I am still at university without a significant income), so it has been quite a tenuous time for me.

Our housing market has been a little inconsistent in the past few months, so even though I sold lower than I had first anticipated, I was very fortunate to purchase again in the same market.

Here she is, my Deco darling. She has gorgeous ceilings and a back yard for my puppy.  I am so very grateful to have her.

(The furniture is not mine. These are the "promotion pics".)

xx

Flowers and Open Fires

What a busy month it has been. Assignments already, and I am just about to sell my little ol' house. I have all these people traipsing through and I hope someone will love my gorgeous Deco darling as much as I and meet my conservative reserve.

I really should post some pictures of her, but the estate agent has documented them in such a way that I cannot copy them down as images.

But as I adore flowers, here at least are some pictures of them in the dining room.

I love these Bouvardia. They start out as little four corner pockets and then burst into these stars. And they are crepuscular (which is one of my favourite words) because they are scented in the evening.

... and these are my pink Lilies with some deep maroon Alstromera

... and here they all are with the Gladioli, which were too tall for my camera screen.

You can see the mantelpiece in the background. I sit here in front of them with the fire on while I write all those essays and papers which sometimes see me work through until morning.

Soon I will be living in a teeny tiny house. I hope she will be Deco-rus and fiery, just like this one. I don't mind if she is smaller.


Wish me luck!

xx

Sing a Song of Sixpence

My cousin recently imparted a wonderful aphorism: the only thing worse than a bad decision is no decision at all. Of course that is not always correct, but after being away from my blog and having no entries for so long I hope I can apply it in principle ...

I really should be spending my time reading, as university is back in full swing. I have only 13 texts this semester, but much reading none-the-less. (This is much better than my first semester in first year, when I had 21, one of which was War and Peace.) Instead I have been filling my obligations in preparation for house hunting as I am finally hoping to buy my very first home on my lonesome. I am so looking forward to it.

But unfortunately there is some pricking of my thumbs and with it wickedness this way comes. I really should have a damn good down payment on my teeny-tiny house, but someone is withholding access to my funds. There is manipulation afoot, but even though I am trying to be as fair and graceful as I can, it does not seem as if equanimity has its rewards. I could adopt the same position as my opponent, but I do not like the method of their dealings, so I am thinking of letting my solicitor take the said person out for a good shaking. Somehow that seems a bit awful. Quibbling over money is such an ugly thing, but they are being so mean!

Between university and home(s) over the next few months I am sure to feel like a blackbird baked in a pie. I am looking forward to when all this crustiness will be opened so I can begin to sing.

xx