Bad Reputation

Always in dubious taste

withviolets:

Veronica Franco by Tintoretto
She’s such an interesting person!
She was an Italian courtesan in 16th century Italy, and courtesans back then were literate, witty, helped men with their speeches and politics and wrote their own poetry.
One of Veronica Franco’s poems:
Capitolo 3 (Elegiac verses, written when away from Venice).
I passed a time weighed down with grief; and, with my spirit forced to languish, my only real pleasure came from reciting heavy, pain-filled lays and from weeping. Alas, I say now and will always say that life is cruel death to me without you, and pleasures to me are torments and woes. Often, as I cried aloud that dear name, Echo, touched with pity by my lament, answered me with brief and broken calls…. The cool roses, lilies, and violets were burnt by the wind of my hot sighs, and I saw the sun turn pale with pity. Moving their eyes in tearful swirls, the rivers stood still, and the sea quelled its rage, through tender pity for my suffering. Oh, how many times the trembling leaves  stood still and the breeze ceased to blow,  in order to listen to my bitter pain. And finally, never could I make my way through any place where I did not see  even stones weep openly for my grief. I live, if a person can be said to live…….

withviolets:

Veronica Franco by Tintoretto

She’s such an interesting person!

She was an Italian courtesan in 16th century Italy, and courtesans back then were literate, witty, helped men with their speeches and politics and wrote their own poetry.

One of Veronica Franco’s poems:

Capitolo 3 (Elegiac verses, written when away from Venice).

I passed a time weighed down with grief;
and, with my spirit forced to languish,
my only real pleasure came from reciting
heavy, pain-filled lays and from weeping.
Alas, I say now and will always say
that life is cruel death to me without you,
and pleasures to me are torments and woes.
Often, as I cried aloud that dear name,
Echo, touched with pity by my lament,
answered me with brief and broken calls….

The cool roses, lilies, and violets
were burnt by the wind of my hot sighs,
and I saw the sun turn pale with pity.
Moving their eyes in tearful swirls,
the rivers stood still, and the sea quelled its rage,
through tender pity for my suffering.
Oh, how many times the trembling leaves
stood still and the breeze ceased to blow,
in order to listen to my bitter pain.
And finally, never could I make my way
through any place where I did not see
even stones weep openly for my grief.
I live, if a person can be said to live…….

— 3 years ago with 6 notes
Apparently I also need this night table. I need that lamp.
I need that lamp so badly I think I may need to marry it.
dansmonboudoir:

Dita Von Teese’s Art Deco-style bedside table.

Apparently I also need this night table. I need that lamp.

I need that lamp so badly I think I may need to marry it.

dansmonboudoir:

Dita Von Teese’s Art Deco-style bedside table.

(Source: yeman-jah)

— 3 years ago with 38 notes
Jesus Christ I need this shoe closet like nobody’s business.
dansmonboudoir:

Dita Von Teese’s shoe closet.  Also from the InStyle Magazine article.

Jesus Christ I need this shoe closet like nobody’s business.

dansmonboudoir:

Dita Von Teese’s shoe closet.  Also from the InStyle Magazine article.

(Source: yeman-jah)

— 3 years ago with 13 notes
WELL now I know what my wardrobe lacks, an OCTOPI BRA.
billyjane:

Galatea from ‘Mutabiles Nymphae’, 2010 © Roberto Kusterle *
from La Lettre

WELL now I know what my wardrobe lacks, an OCTOPI BRA.

billyjane:

Galatea from ‘Mutabiles Nymphae’, 2010 © Roberto Kusterle *

from La Lettre

— 3 years ago with 233 notes

I do not know what to say about the fact that people don’t know who Osama bin Laden is. Christ on a cracker, do none of you pay attention to the news ever?

— 3 years ago
Huh.

Looking at Dita for some inspiration on posing, costume ideas, whatnot, and all I can say is thems a lot of crotch shots I didn’t expect to see. Like, I ain’t bothered; just bemused as I never expected to see -that- much of our Lady of Burlesque!

— 3 years ago
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950).  Renascence and Other Poems.  1917.  

“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied”  

Sonnet II    

TIME does not bring relief; you all have lied    

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!    

 I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,       

And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;     

But last year’s bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!  

There are a hundred places where I fear    

To go,—so with his memory they brim!       

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say,

“There is no memory of him here!”    

And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

— 3 years ago