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"There was once a butterfly who wished for a bride, and, as may be supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from among the flowers. He glanced, with a very critical eye, at all the flower-beds, and found that the flowers were seated quietly and demurely on their stalks, just as maidens should sit before they are engaged; but there was a great number of them, and it appeared as if his search would become very wearisome. The butterfly did not like to take too much trouble, so he flew off on a visit to the daisies. The French call this flower “Marguerite,” and they say that the little daisy can prophesy. Lovers pluck off the leaves, and as they pluck each leaf, they ask a question about their lovers; thus: “Does he or she love me?—Ardently? Distractedly? Very much? A little? Not at all?” and so on. Every one speaks these words in his own language. The butterfly came also to Marguerite to inquire, but he did not pluck off her leaves; he pressed a kiss on each of them, for he thought there was always more to be done by kindness.
“Darling Marguerite daisy,” he said to her, “you are the wisest woman of all the flowers. Pray tell me which of the flowers I shall choose for my wife. Which will be my bride? When I know, I will fly directly to her, and propose.”
But Marguerite did not answer him; she was offended that he should call her a woman when she was only a girl; and there is a great difference. He asked her a second time, and then a third; but she remained dumb, and answered not a word. Then he would wait no longer, but flew away, to commence his wooing at once. It was in the early spring, when the crocus and the snowdrop were in full bloom.
“They are very pretty,” thought the butterfly; “charming little lasses; but they are rather formal.”
Then, as the young lads often do, he looked out for the elder girls. He next flew to the anemones; these were rather sour to his taste. The violet, a little too sentimental. The lime-blossoms, too small, and besides, there was such a large family of them. The apple-blossoms, though they looked like roses, bloomed to-day, but might fall off to-morrow, with the first wind that blew; and he thought that a marriage with one of them might last too short a time. The pea-blossom pleased him most of all; she was white and red, graceful and slender, and belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty appearance, and can yet be useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make her an offer, when, close by the maiden, he saw a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.
“Who is that?” he asked.
“That is my sister,” replied the pea-blossom.
“Oh, indeed; and you will be like her some day,” said he; and he flew away directly, for he felt quite shocked.
A honeysuckle hung forth from the hedge, in full bloom; but there were so many girls like her, with long faces and sallow complexions. No; he did not like her. But which one did he like?
Spring went by, and summer drew towards its close; autumn came; but he had not decided. The flowers now appeared in their most gorgeous robes, but all in vain; they had not the fresh, fragrant air of youth. For the heart asks for fragrance, even when it is no longer young; and there is very little of that to be found in the dahlias or the dry chrysanthemums; therefore the butterfly turned to the mint on the ground. You know, this plant has no blossom; but it is sweetness all over,—full of fragrance from head to foot, with the scent of a flower in every leaf.
“I will take her,” said the butterfly; and he made her an offer. But the mint stood silent and stiff, as she listened to him. At last she said,—
“Friendship, if you please; nothing more. I am old, and you are old, but we may live for each other just the same; as to marrying—no; don’t let us appear ridiculous at our age.”
And so it happened that the butterfly got no wife at all. He had been too long choosing, which is always a bad plan. And the butterfly became what is called an old bachelor.
It was late in the autumn, with rainy and cloudy weather. The cold wind blew over the bowed backs of the willows, so that they creaked again. It was not the weather for flying about in summer clothes; but fortunately the butterfly was not out in it. He had got a shelter by chance. It was in a room heated by a stove, and as warm as summer. He could exist here, he said, well enough.
“But it is not enough merely to exist,” said he, “I need freedom, sunshine, and a little flower for a companion.”
Then he flew against the window-pane, and was seen and admired by those in the room, who caught him, and stuck him on a pin, in a box of curiosities. They could not do more for him.
“Now I am perched on a stalk, like the flowers,” said the butterfly. “It is not very pleasant, certainly; I should imagine it is something like being married; for here I am stuck fast.” And with this thought he consoled himself a little.
“That seems very poor consolation,” said one of the plants in the room, that grew in a pot.
“Ah,” thought the butterfly, “one can’t very well trust these plants in pots; they have too much to do with mankind.”"
Hans Christian Andersen (1861)
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Bernardo Strozzi, called the Capuchin or the Genoese Priest (Campo Ligure, 1581 - Venice, August 2, 1644) - The Young St. John the Baptist (1620-1625) - Oil on Canvas size cm 70 x 55 - Pinacoteca di Brera Milan
È stata l’alta qualità di particolari come la mano, il cartiglio, la canna a forma di croce, gli incarnati del volto, a far propendere per l’autografia di questo dipinto. I toni cupi del fondo, dei capelli e della pelle di cammello fanno supporre che l’opera sia precedente al trasferimento di Bernardo Strozzi a Venezia e al suo incontro col cromatismo veneto, inducendo a una datazione intorno al 1620-1625.
The exquisite quality of such details as the saint’s hand, his complexion, the scroll and the cross-shaped staff have persuaded scholars that this is an autograph work. The dark background, the saint’s hair and his camel skin all suggest that it was painted before Bernardo Strozzi moved to Venice and discovered the Venetian masters’ use of colour, thus it may be dated to some time between 1620 and 1625.
Prompt:
Ethereal woman, slender physique, fair complexion, platinum blonde hair, flowing white dress, long sleeves, modest neckline, cinched waist, flowing fabric, sandy beach, empty setting, soft and cool lighting, overcast sky, early morning or dusk ambiance, mysterious glowing lights, magical atmosphere, gentle waves, sea background, shrub-topped dunes, parallel shoreline, serene setting, detailed illustration, realistic with a touch of fantasy, sharp focus, warm color palette, Artstation.
Maria siede su un cuscino a terra, secondo il modello iconografico noto come Madonna dell’Umiltà (dal latino humus, terra). La Vergine nutre il figlio Gesù offrendogli il seno, così che l’iconografia della Madonna dell’Umiltà si fonde con quella della Madonna del latte, secondo una consuetudine diffusa nella pittura toscana soprattutto nel XIV secolo. Entrambi i modelli sottolineano il ruolo privilegiato di Maria quale intermediatrice fra Dio e l’umanità. Il tema sembra particolarmente adatto per un’immagine sacra esposta alla devozione e destinata ad un piccolo oratorio o ad un altare secondario di una chiesa, come suggeriscono anche le dimensioni non troppo grandi del dipinto di Masolino.
La tavola è danneggiata nella parte destra, dove il supporto mostra in alto un’integrazione moderna ed è presente un esteso rifacimento del fondo oro e della superficie pittorica. Nonostante ciò, l’immagine della Madonna col Bambino risulta nel complesso ben leggibile, caratterizzata dall’andamento fluente delle vesti, di gusto tardogotico, e dalla morbidezza dei teneri incarnati. La maggioranza degli studiosi attribuisce il dipinto a Masolino, di cui questa Madonna dell’Umiltà sarebbe una delle opere più antiche oggi note.
Non si conosce l’originale provenienza del dipinto. Proveniente dal mercato antiquario inglese, fu acquistato nel corso degli anni Trenta del secolo scorso da Alessandro Contini Bonacossi, che intorno al 1942 lo vendette al gerarca nazista Hermann Göring. Rintracciato da Rodolfo Siviero in Germania nel 1947, è stato restituito allo Stato italiano nel 1954 e, nel 1988, assegnato alla Galleria degli Uffizi.
Mary sits on a cushion on the ground, according to the iconographic model known as the Madonna of Humility (from the Latin humus, earth). The Virgin feeds her son Jesus by offering him her breast, so that the iconography of the Madonna of Humility blends with that of the Madonna del latte, according to a widespread custom in Tuscan painting, especially in the fourteenth century. Both models underline the privileged role of Mary as an intermediary between God and humanity. The theme seems particularly suitable for a sacred image exposed to devotion and intended for a small oratory or a secondary altar of a church, as also suggested by the not too large dimensions of Masolino's painting.
The panel is damaged on the right side, where the support shows a modern integration at the top and there is an extensive makeover of the gold background and the painted surface. Despite this, the image of the Madonna and Child is on the whole clearly legible, characterized by the flowing trend of the clothes, of late Gothic taste, and the softness of the tender complexions. Most scholars attribute the painting to Masolino, of which this Madonna of Humility would be one of the oldest known works today.
The original provenance of the painting is unknown. Coming from the English antiques market, it was bought during the 1930s by Alessandro Contini Bonacossi, who around 1942 sold it to the Nazi hierarch Hermann Göring. Tracked down by Rodolfo Siviero in Germany in 1947, it was returned to the Italian state in 1954 and, in 1988, assigned to the Uffizi Gallery.
I came across this man at work painting furniture on the roof of his shop in Amritsar, India. I was watching him at work, and in this moment he stopped and stared off into space as if a thought about something had overtaken his temperament. It is an interesting thing to wonder what had crossed his mind, and I also found his complexion to be strikingly beautiful.
“Elephant lephant phant”
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Himba women are famous for covering their body and hair with a paste made of butter, ochre (hematite powder) and ashes, called otjize, which is supposed to protect them from the sun and the insects. The red complexion it gives to women’s skin, is considered a sign of beauty. Body decoration is important in Himba culture, especially for women. They wear jewelry made of shell, metal, bone or skin. Women usually go topless (as well as men) and wear a skirt made of goat skin. Adult women also wear heavy iron or copper necklaces, that can weigh several kilos, and beaded anklets to protect their legs from venomous animal bites. Himba dress codes and hairstyle rules are very complex. Himba hairstyles are really meaningful as they enable to identify their social status. Pre-pubescent girls wear 2 plaits in front of their faces. Replacing them with many strands hanging all over the head, means the girl is in her puberty period. A girl with long tied back braids is considered ready for marriage. Once married, an « erembe » (a piece of goat leather) is tied to the top of her head. Hairstyle also indicates the status of men.
© Eric Lafforgue
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Leonardo da Vinci (Anchiano, April 15, 1452 - Amboise, May 2, 1519) - Madonna of the Carnation also known as the Madonna with Vase, Madonna with Child or Virgin with Flower (around 1473) - oil on panel dimensions 62 × 47.5 cm - Alte Pinakothek, Munich
Alcune evidenti derivazioni da Verrocchio confermano l'appartenenza dell'opera alla fase giovanile del pittore: l'impianto compositivo, la delicatezza quasi trasparente degli incarnati, la sobria ma realistica gestualità tra madre e figlio, nonché lo zoccolo su cui si trova il vaso, decorato da girali che ricordano l'ara nell'Annunciazione. Il volto di Maria ricorda da vicino quello presente nell'Annunciazione degli Uffizi. Altri elementi contengono invece, in nuce, stilemi dell'artista maturo: il paesaggio roccioso, il panneggio giallo annodato come un vortice, l'acconciatura raffinata della Vergine che venne riutilizzata nella Leda con il cigno.
Some evident derivations from Verrocchio confirm the belonging of the work to the painter's youthful phase: the compositional structure, the almost transparent delicacy of the complexions, the sober but realistic gestures between mother and son, as well as the plinth on which the vase is located, decorated with swirls reminiscent of the altar in the Annunciation. Mary's face closely resembles that present in the Annunciation of the Uffizi. Other elements instead contain, in a nutshell, stylistic features of the mature artist: the rocky landscape, the yellow drapery knotted like a vortex, the refined hairstyle of the Virgin who was reused in the Leda with the swan.
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Event: Bikini Under The Bridge 2010 (Bikini! 2010)
Location: The Power House Arena, Brooklyn, NY
Date: July 11, 2010
Overview of Bikini! 2010
The host of the show was Lu Celania Sierra, supermodel, choreographer, actress, producer, and runway coach for the Miss USA and Miss Universe pageants. Performances by Kamsha (Pop Artiste) and Mr. Lexx (Dancehall Artiste). The show featured eleven designers, five presented at the 5:00 pm show and six at the 7:00 pm show.
Designers In The Order They Presented
5:00 pm Show
1. Richnits
2. Omega 98
3. House of Culture
4. Niki Chin Couture
5. Brazilian Bezel
7:00 pm Show
1. Yard Rock
2. Chila For Fun
3. Me
4. Swiyyah Couture
5. Samali
6. Derek Moore
Models
Taylor Yu, Josie West, Rebecca Leigh West, Jena Mroz, NUBIA, LaShaye Moore, Felicia Greene, Janice Pugh, Shanice Thompson, Safia McNeishe, Laticha Williamson, Ashley Toppin, Jennifer Harrison, Kohcoa, Karmarie Lamonth, Latoya Davis, Jasmine Williams, Regena Williams, Sheriann Harding, Juanita Murray, Maybelline Canela, Laura Skemaite, Falone Jean, Janelle Victor, Colleen Artherly, LULU, Shakyra LaShae, Shirl, Danielle Edmond, Bar Drori, Lauren Waddell, Liane Boyko, Laura Savy, Fumie Seki, and Suhailah Rivera.
Make-up
Face To Face Artistry
Hair
Marcy Image
Sponsors Affiliated With Bikini! 2010
VIP Bar and Grill, Vinnie's, Crystals, Organic Root Stimulator, Chrome Azzaro, Vera Moore, Capital Records, YNTS, No 1. Front Street Restaurant, Pop Chips, BCW, One Caribbean Radio, Carivibez TV, Thompson and Thompson, Complexion Magazine, and Revenge Fashion Magazine.
Bikini Under The Bridge is a JRG Entertainment event. For more information on Bikini Under the Bridge visit:
JRG Entertainment
Live life in fashion.
Revenge Fashion Magazine
A Passion for Empowerment™
www.RevengeFashionMagazine.com
This picture is #16 in the 100 Strangers Project - Round 3
Meet Mavae
As amazing as it is to find strangers to pose for you on the street, its even more so when your stranger has great style, superb complexion and make-up like she stepped out for a photo shoot. And I was definitely in luck to find Mavae for my 100 Strangers project, just as I was grabbing lunch at a Lebanese restaurant when I saw her walk past outside. Needless to say, her sense of dressing as well as her make-up looked like she was out for a photoshoot. By the time I rushed out she was nowhere in sight - but then luckily I saw her waiting to pickup her order in a adjoining restaurant. Walking in, I made my request and to my relief Mavae agreed although she had only about 5 minutes before having to go for an appointment.
Mavae (I understand is a Irish name) works in the pharmaceutical industry specifically with mental health and hopes to someday run her own business. Her favorite quality of herself is her empathetic nature which somehow didn't surprise me much, given the soft spoken kindness she exuded. A memory she remembered- a few years when she had bought a one way ticket to El Salvador and the great time she had there.
We stepped out and tried a few spots to test the light before settling for a few pics. Mavae was a complete natural obviously photogenic and relaxed on camera. She even sportingly opened her hair based on my request which completely changed her personality I'd say.
Thank you Mavae for being such a sport and doing these pictures - it was great fun indeed. If you stop by and would like a copy of the pics please drop me a note. All the very best to you both for all that the future holds.
Alternate posed pic in comments.
Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the 100 Strangers Flickr Group page
For my other pictures on this project: 100 Strangers - Round 2.
For pictures from my prior attempt at 100 Strangers: 100 Strangers - Round 1.
Gian Lorenzo Bernini (Naples, December 7, 1598 - Rome, November 28, 1680) - portrait of a child (1638) - oil on canvas 33.5 x 28 cm - Galleria Borghese, Rome
Il dipinto, proveniente dalla raccolta del principe Chigi, venne acquistato dallo Stato Italiano nel 1919.
È un ritratto estremamente importante sia per documentare la poco nota attività pittorica del Bernini sia per l’intera ritrattistica del Seicento. Si tratta di un ritratto familiare, un bambino di circa 12 anni di cui non conosciamo l’identità, eseguito come puro esercizio pittorico in cui l’incarnato vibrante e la folta capigliatura è vicina alla resa delle superfici scolpite dall’artista.
It is an extremely important portrait both for documenting the little-known pictorial activity of Bernini and for the entire portraiture of the seventeenth century. It is a family portrait, a child of about 12 years of age whose identity we do not know, executed as a pure pictorial exercise in which the vibrant complexion and thick hair is close to the rendering of the surfaces sculpted by the artist.
My longing to dress as a woman continues to increase with each week but unfortunately my lack of opportunities continues. Once more I am looking through my photos from previous cross-dressing sessions to help me cope by enjoying the memories. I came across a batch of pictures from some time ago (2004), this was a time when I was still experimenting with make-up, hair styles and female clothing. I was attempting to learn the craft of male o female transformation after decades of suppressing the desire…all those years wasted!
I now feel I was like a teenage girl at that point, still learning with hair, make-up, the colours, the techniques and so forth. I can see my foundation is far too orange in colour as my hands and feet show the true colour of my complexion. I now try to match my skin tones. Back then though I was thrilled and super excited to be dressing up in women's clothing, wearing make-up and putting on wigs; it was a huge adventure which I totally loved.
I still love and adore dressing up as a woman only these days I am far more emotionally committed than in the past. When I cross-dress now I do endeavour to become a woman not just in appearance but in my thinking and behaviour. In fact I try to behave as a heterosexual woman and forget I am male. I see it as performance and self expression rather than linked to my sexuality.
My ambition has always been to pass convincingly as a woman and I recall back when this picture was taken I was trying to behave as a female rather than a male. There was something that appeared deeply to me about setting free my life desire to be a woman and it certainly affected me emotionally. I loved pretending I was a girl, well woman as I was age 44 in this picture. It felt incredible to cross the gender line. I just felt incredibly comfortable appearing this way and the make-up, hair and clothes definitely gave me a considerable boost in confidence and inner contentment. I have no idea how well I did but it was a lot fun and so enjoyable. Not the typical male pastime but its one I have a need to engage with. I like being a woman.
Finally got a ‘Holy Grail’ I had been searching for since I started collecting many years ago; - The elusive ‘Beautiful Bride’ Barbie from 1976. Apparently, she was a limited release to select department stores and wasn’t as widely available as the later Superstar faced one from 1978. I also took a comparison shot with my Deluxe Quick Curl Barbie who was also from 1976, as they often get confused with each other. (I’ve even seen a few of these Quick Curls dressed up in the wedding gown- which was also available separately as ‘Fashion Originals’ #9149 – by some sellers who try to pass her off as the pricier Beautiful Bride, whether unintentionally or not!) First off, as you can see, Beautiful Bride’s eyes are painted completely differently, and most importantly, she has rooted eyelashes (the 1st doll in the U.S. to have them since 1972) …. Her hair is also side-parted as opposed to Quick Curl’s centre parting, and of course, is of a much softer texture as it doesn’t have those wires that are in Quick Curl’s flip. I was thrilled to see that this bride still has her hair string intact! Beautiful Bride is also much paler than Quick Curl’s peaches-and-cream complexion, (though that could be due to age, as most of them do fade.) She now takes pride of place in the bridal salon of the 1976 Fashion Plaza!
Created with ChatGPT
Prompt - 16:9 ultra-photorealistic 64K 100% genuine cinematic photograph. Four elite Amazon warrior trainees rest on a vast obsidian crystal outcrop beside a luminous cobalt-blue underground river inside a colossal ancient cavern. Their physiques are naturally athletic, shaped by climbing mountains, hunting and wilderness survival—broad elegant shoulders, sculpted arms, powerful backs, defined waists, strong legs and functional feminine musculature without bodybuilder proportions. Each woman has a unique identity: AD5 (champagne-blonde waves, porcelain skin), AD3 (deep bronze complexion, voluminous natural curls), CHIARA (rich bronze complexion, elegant defined curls), and ROSA (warm caramel complexion, distinctive double-bun braids). Preserve each avatar's exact facial geometry, skin tone, eyes, lips and hairstyle. They wear unique combinations of black leather, turquoise silk wraps, carved bone ornaments, snake skull pendants, beadwork, arm wraps and tribal jewellery. A magnificent sleek black panther crouches alert at the edge of the obsidian, watching schools of tiny silver fish beneath the crystal-clear water. Massive cavern walls disappear into drifting turquoise mist, illuminated by distant shafts of mystical white-blue light filtering through unseen openings high above. Wet obsidian reflects subtle highlights while fine mist creates immense atmospheric depth. Captured using a Phase One XF IQ4 150MP medium-format camera, Schneider Kreuznach 55mm LS lens, f/8, ISO100, physically accurate HDR lighting, authentic optical depth, true photographic colour science, IMAX documentary realism, Netflix fantasy adventure live-action still, National Geographic quality, razor-sharp focus, ultra-realistic textures, absolutely no painting, no illustration, no CGI look, no text, no logos, no watermark.
Pic and Prompt by Adrian
I hope the fellow & his lady see this photo. They were just passing by in Centerport search of the Bald Eagle as I was.
The Bald Eagle NEVER SHOWED UP for St. Patricks Day!!
And I even wore Green on Green that day, but with my dark Sicilian Complexion the Bald Eagle must have saw that this guy with the black box is an IMPOSTOR very easily.
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Turbulent Landscape.
Wütenden Patienten einflussreichen reagierenden Opfer der Wahnsinnigen hedgerows Verstärkung wahnhafte Richter,
Asilos psicologicos impetus complexiones ignorantes opiniones progresivas desnudas perturbadoras leyes,
нумеричке воркхоусес психијатрије истрага органске терапије механичке технике управлениа,
الافتراضات الفنية معين التناقض وغير قابل للحل واقع الإنتهاك الشيطانية رغبات عصاب,
catalizzatore internazionalismo intensificato documenti manifesti disinibite menti materialistiche aggressivi,
Парадоксальные сражения социалисты коммунисты разочарованные интеллектуалы индивидуалистический художник коммунализм искусства,
Sinônimo expressionistas revolucionário ultramoderno direção antinaturalista experimentando elementos,
transnationale bevoegdheden inheemse ontwikkelingen internationalist fenomeen significant vertalingen nieuwe,
цуцалсан тухай мэдэгдлийг хэмжээ тайлбар дуу хоолойг далд шүүмжлэгчид зохион байгуулах, муу чиглэлийг нөлөөлөх,
政治家多層野生の攻撃幻滅世代急進的な巨大なアイデアネガティブ主義の年.
Steve.D.Hammond.
I met Somchai in Kiyomizudera temple, Kyoto. He caught my eye because he was dressed in bright orange Buddhist robes. He had a gentle face but was surrounded by a rather scary looking entourage. I plucked up the courage to go and speak to him. It turned out he was a monk from Bangkok in Thailand. They were a group on a short trip of a 'mixture of business and pleasure'. He said he had visited Japan on a number of occasions before.
He was quite softly spoken yet gave the impression that he was not someone to be messed with. I managed to get him away from the group and into a bit of light. The first couple of shots with him looking at the camera had too much shadow. Then he turned and looked into the sun which was perfect.
I decided to convert this to black and white to accentuate his rugged complexion - and it also helps to bring out his sense of wisdom.
This was shot quite close to the subject as the background, out of the picture to the left, was very cluttered. I am trying to take the time to think more about the background and light before I shoot - and then actually take the subject try and place them in the best position (within reason).
This picture is my eleventh submission in the 100 strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at 100 Strangers Flickr Group page www.flickr.com/groups/100strangers/
This is also my eleventh submission to the Human Family Group, which can be found here: www.flickr.com/groups/thehumanfamily/
Created with ChatGPT
Prompt - Ultra-photorealistic fantasy photograph, 16:9, CAS1 style, 64K, IMAX quality. A breathtaking young woman (ALI1 facial guide: soft oval face with subtle heart-shaped taper, high cheekbones, almond hazel-brown eyes, thick softly arched brows, straight refined nose, full defined lips, warm olive complexion with light freckles, beauty marks above upper lip and on left cheek, very long dark espresso-brown wavy hair) sits peacefully on the forest floor beneath an ancient oak. She wears an elegant Victorian burgundy-red gown inspired by classic 19th-century fashion: fitted lace bodice, black lace trim, puffed sleeves, corseted waist, layered flowing skirt, no hat. A magnificent white unicorn sleeps with its head resting gently across her lap. Her left arm is anatomically correct, raised naturally over the unicorn's neck and shoulder, resting across the TOP of its mane while her left hand softly caresses the mane. The forearm is fully visible above the neck, never passing through or behind the unicorn. Her right hand rests beside her on the grass. Warm early morning sunlight filters through the trees, illuminating wildflowers, soft meadow grasses and drifting pollen. Misty lake, distant mountains and flowering woodland create a tranquil background. Canon EOS R5, RF 85mm f/1.2L, shallow depth of field, razor-sharp focus, HDR, realistic skin texture, detailed flowing hair, lifelike unicorn anatomy, volumetric golden light, cinematic colour grading, masterpiece, no text, no watermark, no logo.
Pic and Prompt by Adrian
Rasgos físicos de la salamanquesa
La salamanquesa común mide entre 12 y 16 cm., es de complexión robusta y cuerpo aplanado, con el dorso cubierto de escamas. La cabeza, ancha y ligeramente triangular, acaba en un hocico redondeado y está coronada por unos prominentes ojos de pupilas verticales, que se dilatan en la oscuridad para mejorar la visión. La cola, larga y espinosa, es regenerativa y si la pierde volverá a salir. Sus dedos planos contienen unas pequeñas láminas adhesivas que le permiten sujetarse en superficies verticales y totalmente lisas como el cristal, o incluso boca abajo.
The outdoor type - you don't get that complexion working in an office.
Best viewed on black. Press L.
for Robyn
Request for peachy complexion, eyeshadow that goes well with blue eyes and not to emphasize her teeth.
It was autumn 2021, another day in Bruxelles. What to wear? Where to go? She settled for a comfortable sweater, a warm cup of coffee. Her fine complexion reflected clearly in the polished sides of the dimly lit booth. Having noticed all of this she asked me to take her picture.
A stunning beauty portrait featuring Beatrix from Korbach. This shot highlights the perfect harmony between bold pink eye makeup, soft waves, and an exotic orchid tucked in her hair. A captivating blend of tenderness and modern elegance against a soft pink backdrop.
Ein bezauberndes Beauty-Porträt von Beatrix aus Korbach. Der Fokus liegt auf dem harmonischen Zusammenspiel von kräftigem Pink-Make-up, sanften Wellen und der exotischen Orchidee im Haar. Ein Spiel aus Zärtlichkeit und moderner Eleganz vor einem sanften rosa Hintergrund.
👉 Folge www.instagram.com/eckidirk on Instagram
G'day! My last assignment for this semester! ♥ Earthen Mood is the name of the room, concept is nature with elegance, embracing our complexion with the world. x Later tonight I'll be submitting some Second Life images! xox
Before the week's end, the results of the letter been brought to the town's chapel. A casket, simple but well-kept. In what felt like the blink of an eye, the funeral date had arrived. Members of Cassandra's family, as well as close friends, came to pay their respects, including her older brother, Hugo.
For Hugo to come to town was no small thing; he lived in the capital city, working as a banker of some kind as Cassandra understood it. Compared to the majority of the people in town, he looked like a noble.
Inside the funeral home, she recognized him, but a ringing in her ears muffled his words. All she could muster was a simple nod and a forced smile.
The doors to the chapel opened. Breath fled her lungs. Every step felt like her joints had turned to stone.
Around the turn of the door, towards the box in the center. Past pews and across a soft, worn carpet. She stepped closer, only to stop short four steps away.
Inside the casket, dressed in finery that was completely at odds with his life as a craftsman, lay her uncle. Her eyes traced clinically over him; arms perfectly rigid, a thin layer of makeup, shrunken lips, chalky complexion and his chest did not rise and fall as he lay.
Nervous breaths gave way to shaking, gasping and panting. She fought to pull her eyes away from the sight, stumbling backwards, only to catch her fall on a nearby pew. The shaking grew more intense, as if she'd just entered a river in the middle of winter. A second effort brought Cassandra to her feet, seeing his unmoving features once more. The image seared into her mind like a cattle brand.
No. No, this was wrong. This was all wrong!
A banshee's shriek rang from the chapel, and she ran away from the sight. In a side room, she shivered like a starving child, processing the sight.
Death. That terrible event, that cruel thing, had taken her dear uncle. The world-wise man who had taught her to bandage a wound, to paint a sunset, how to disassemble clocks and to never pass on trying something new when in a foreign place. He was gone. Not by blade or bullet, not by accident or disease, but by time's decay. Its reach would come for everyone, for everything, herself included.
A stern knock at the door frame next to her pulled Cass out of her despair. Hugo stood, concerned and dismayed, "Cassandra, what's gotten into you? You're hysterical."
"I . . . I can't . . . he's gone. He's just gone! Is there noth . . ."
Tears and cries cut the rest of her words off.
Hugo half-reached out to her, but caught his hand short, instead kneading them together and reaffirming his posture, "We both know he didn't have long, Cass. There was nothing we could do. Please, for our family's sake if not your own, try and compose yourself. You may sit by me if it will keep you stable."
His measured steps rang like a metronome, like marching boots as they went back to the main hall. Her hand slapped against the wall, fingernails clawing the wallpaper as his words felt like hurled stones.
"There was nothing we could do . . . compose yourself . . ."
Cass's face contorted into anger. The defeatism felt like venom to her soul. She hated it.
Gathering her strength, Cassandra wiped her face clean and re-entered the gathering. Behind a measured and stoic face, her mind whirled with plans. She knew of a university in the capital city, one where the most learned minds of the age gathered. If there was a place to find help, to hone her skills in the sciences, it would be there. The fees were considerable, but between her accrued funds and selling off pretty and useless things, she could cover the costs for months, longer with work or grants.
It was too late for her uncle, but she would not simply wait to join him in death. At the very next opportunity, she would leave.
Damien "Tag" Taggart is steady as a rock, but rocks aren't soft.
This little twitter looks a tad rough, but it is winter after all. Probably doesn't help his complexion that this was photographed at ISO 25600. But what can you do when you only have an f8.0 faux 600mm.
so there's been many a controversy about magazines lightening certain models'/singers' complexions, well here I've done the reverse in the name of art and beauty. The world has people of all shades, sizes and personalities, that is the beauty. I cannot even begin to understand those who are wrapped up in prejudice and hatred, rather than hate them I pity them for there is a gorgeous world out there and they are imprisoned inside a narrow mind.
Price: $88L (Limited Time)
[ THE CYBER-SCENE SIREN: TRINITY ] Online and optimized. Trinity is a techno-futurist built on the Briannon head. Featuring a flawless Ebony complexion, tech-coat styling, and "babygirl" buns, she is the peak of the Y2K cyber-scene vanguard.
VIBE: Y2K Cyber-Goth / Techno-Futurist / Reborn 2.0
STATUS: Don't forget to refresh.Available Now at The Mainstore: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Captivated/158/111/2749
Pink, beautiful pink
Is the colour which inspires.
The colour pink inspires, to be in love
And to dream of the beauty of the beautiful things.
The colour pink is beautiful in its complexion
And makes you want it more.
Pink, the colour pink is beautiful indeed and inspires
To be in love as love is truly Pink.
ROHIT SAPRA
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are not at Cavendish Mews, although we are still in Mayfair, moving a few streets away to Hill Street, where Edith, Lettice’s maid, and her beau, grocery boy Frank Leadbetter, are visiting Edith’s friend and fellow maid Hilda. It is a beautiful, sunny Sunday and Sundays all three have as days off from their jobs as domestic servants and delivery boy. Taking advantage of this, all three are going to spend the afternoon at Hammersmith Palias de Danse*. As usual, Frank collects Edith from Cavendish Mews and the pair then go to the home of Lettice’s married friends Margot and Dickie Channon, where Hilda works as a live-in maid.
Being Hilda’s day off, her employers usually decamp for the day, and today they are visiting their friend Priscilla who recently married American dry goods heir Georgie Carter. The pair have just returned to London from their honeymoon which took in much of Europe before visiting Georgie’s family in Philadelphia. The quartet will dine at the Café Royal**, doubtless at the expense of Georgie since the Channons seem perpetually to have financial difficulties, but as a result, the Channons have invited the Carters back to their Hill Street flat for after supper coffee, which means that Hilda must do one of her most hated jobs: grind coffee beans to make real coffee for Georgie Carter, who is particular about his American style coffee. We find the trio in the kitchen of the Hill Street flat, the ladies’ dancing frocks and Frank’s suit at odds with their surrounds as Hilda grinds the coffee beans sitting in a white china bowl in the large wooden and brass coffee grinder. By preparing the coffee, ready to make before she goes out, it will be easy to serve when her employers and their guests return after dinner, and the beans will still be fresh enough for Georgie’s liking.
“You know,” Frank remarks as he stands at Edith’s elbow and watches Hilda turn the handle of the coffee grinder with gusto. “I don’t see why they can’t just drink Camp Coffee*** like the rest of us.”
“Oh Frank!” gasps Edith, looking up at her beau and patting his hand with her own as he squeezes her left shoulder lovingly. “You know perfectly well why not, Frank. Mr. and Mrs. Channon’s friend, Mr. Carter is an American gentleman, and just like Miss Wanetta Ward the American moving picture star, he doesn’t like British coffee.”
“What rot!” Frank scoffs at the suggestion. “There’s nothing wrong with British coffee! If British coffee isn’t to Mr. Carter’s taste, let him have tea then, and save poor Hilda the effort of having to grind up coffee beans for his lordship.” He slips off the jacket of his smart Sunday blue suit, revealing his crisp white shirt, red tie and smart navy blue vest. He drapes it over the back of the Windsor chair Edith sits in. “Come on old girl,” he says to Hilda as he moves around the deal pine kitchen table. “Give me a go then. Give your arms a chance to recuperate before we go dancing.”
“You’re such a Socialist, Frank Leadbetter.” pipes up Hilda as with a grunt, she pushes the handle of the grinder mechanism over a particularly recalcitrant coffee bean.
“What?” gasps Frank as he takes over grinding from the grateful maid. “I thought you’d come to my defence, Hilda, especially as I’m being so chivalrous as to grind coffee beans for you.”
“Oh I am grateful, Frank, ever so.” Hilda replies, rubbing her aching forearms with her fat, sausage like fingers. “But just because you are being gallant, doesn’t mean I can’t call you a Socialist.”
“Because a hard working man like me thinks I’m every bit as good as this friend of your Mr. and Mrs. Channon, I’m now a Socialist?” Frank asks in an appalled voice. “You’re as bad as Edith’s mum.” He nods in his sweetheart’s direction.
“Mum thinks Frank might be a Communist.” Edith explains. “Even though we’ve both told her that he isn’t.”
“Handsome is as handsome does.” remarks Hilda with a cheeky smile as she glances at Frank winding the red knob topped brass handle of the grinder.
“I’m neither, I’ll have you know, Hilda Clerkenwell!” Frank retorts. “I’d prefer to think of myself as more of a progressive thinker when it comes to the rights and privileges of the working man,” He looks poignantly at Hilda. “And woman.”
“Same thing.” Hilda retorts matter-of-factly as she starts to straighten the russet grosgrain bandeau**** embellished with gold sequins which has slipped askew whilst she has been grinding coffee beans.
“Pardon my ignorance,” Edith begins gingerly. “But what exactly is a Socialist?”
“Socialism is a political movement that wants to reform various economic and social systems, transferring them to social ownership as opposed to private ownership.” remarks Hilda as she runs her hands down the back of her hair.
“Well done, Hilda!” Frank congratulates her.
“You sound surprised, Frank.” Hilda says with a cheeky smile. “Don’t they have smart girls where you come from, present company excluded, Edith!” Hilda adds hurriedly so as not to offend her best friend.”
“Oh, you know I’m not very political,” Edith assures Hilda, yet at the same time self consciously toys with her blonde waves as she speaks.
“I must confess, Hilda, I am a little surprised.” Frank admits. “I don’t know many girls who are interested in social rights and can give explanations so eloquently.”
“I’m so sorry Frank!” Edith defends herself. “I know you’ve tried to teach me, but I can’t help it. I get confused between this ist and the other ist. They all seem the same to me.” She blushes with mild embarrassment at her own ignorance.
“No, no, Edith!” Frank assures her as he stops grinding the coffee beans and reaches out his left hand, clasping her right one as it rests on the tabletop and squeezes it reassuringly. “This isn’t a criticism of you! It was a compliment to Hilda. You’re wonderful, and there are things that you understand and are far better at than me.”
“Than both of us, Edith.” adds Hilda quickly, the look of concern about her friend taking umbrage clear on her round face.
“Yes, inconsequential things.” Edith mumbles in a deflated tone.
“No, not at all.” Frank reassures her soothingly as he takes up grinding coffee again. “What good am I to myself if I can’t cook a meal to feed myself.”
“And for all my love of reading, Edith, you know I can’t sew a stitch.” Hilda appends. “I could never have made this beautiful frock.” She grasps the edge of the strap of her russet coloured art satin***** dress as she speaks. “Not in a million years. We’re all good at different things, and no-one could say you weren’t smart, Edith.”
“That’s right.” Frank concurs, smiling at his sweetheart. “One of the reasons why I’ve always admired you is because you aren’t some silly giggling Gertie****** like some of the housemaids I’ve known. You aren’t turned by just a handsome face, and your head isn’t filled with moving picture stars and nothing else.”
“Well, I do like moving picture stars, Frank.” Edith confesses.
“Oh I know, Edith, and I love you for that too.” Frank reassures her. “But it’s not all that is in there. You have a good head on your shoulders.”
“And a wise one too.” Hilda interjects. “How often do I ask you for advice? I’ve always asked you for your opinion on things for as long as we’ve been friends.”
“You are clever, and insightful, and you want a better life for yourself too, and that’s why I really love you. We want the same things from life.” Frank says in a soft and soothing tone full of love as he gazes at Edith. “You are very pretty, and no-one can deny that – not even you,” He holds out an admonishing finger as Edith goes to refute his remark. “But beauty, however glorious will fade. Just look at our Dowager Queen Mother*******. When beauty fades, wit and intelligence remain, and you have both of those qualities in spades, Edith.”
“Oh Frank.” Edith breathes softly. “You aren’t ashamed of me then?”
“Of course I’m not Edith! How could I ever be ashamed of you? I’m as proud as punch******** to step out with you! You’re my best girl.”
Frank winds the gleaming brass coffee grinder handle a few more times before stopping. He pulls out the drawer at the bottom and as he does, the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans fills the air around them, wafting up his, Edith and Hilda’s nostrils. He sighs with satisfaction at a job well done.
“Good enough for his American lordship?” Frank asks Hilda.
She peers into the drawer. “Good enough.” she acknowledges with another of her cheeky smirks, nodding affirmatively.
“I still think he could jolly well grind his own, you know, Hilda!” Frank opines.
“Socialist.” she laughs in reply as she walks around Frank, withdraws the drawer of ground coffee and knocks the contents into the small, worn Delftware coffee cannister with careful taps, so as not to spill and waste any of the hard-won grinds.
“I bet you, your Wanetta Ward doesn’t grind her own coffee, Edith.” Frank goes on as he walks back around to Edith and slips his jacket on again.
“I bet you she does, Frank!” Edith counters.
“What? A moving picture star grinding her own coffee? I don’t believe it!”
“Miss Ward is a very unorthodox person, Frank, even for an American.” she assures him. “I think she might surprise you if you ever get the pleasure of meeting her one day.”
“Maybe.” Frank says doubtfully. “Well now that coffee is ground, we should really get going.” He runs his hands around the back of his jacket collar to make sure it is sitting straight. “The Hammersmith Palais waits for no-one, not even those who slave for undeserving Americans.” He laughs good heartedly. “Shall we go?”
“Oh yes!” enthuses Edith as Frank chivalrously pulls out her chair for her as she stands up. “I’ll fetch our coats.”
With her pretty blue floral sprigged frock swirling about her figure, Edith hurries over to the pegs by the door where Frank’s, Hilda’s and her own coat and hats hang. She moves lightly across the floor, practicing her dance steps as she goes, silently moving to the music she hears the band playing in her head.
“I really wonder why I bother sometimes.” Hilda says despondently as she pulls her brown coat on over the top of the luxurious man-made silk frock that Edith made for her and decorated with lace trimming and small bursts of sequins.
“Like I said,” Frank mutters. “He should settle for Camp Coffee like the rest of us, or have tea.”
“Not grinding coffee, Frank!” Hilda scoffs in reply. “I mean go dancing at the Hammersmith Palais week after week. What’s the point?”
“What do you mean, Hilda?” Edith asks gently, slipping her arms into her own black three-quarter length coat as Frank holds to open for her.
“I mean why do I bother going dancing when no man at the Palais ever looks at me, even in this beautiful new frock you made me, Edith.” She picks up the lace trimmed hem of her dance dress and lifts it despondently.
Edith and Frank both glance anxiously at one another for a moment. Both know they are thinking exactly the same thing. What Hilda says is true. Whenever the three of them go to the Hammersmith Palais de Danse there are always far more women in attendance than men. The Great War decimated the male population, and almost drove an entire generation of young men into extinction. Sadly, this means that more and more women are finding themselves without a gentleman to step out with, and are deemed surplus to needs by society. In spite of any of his faults, Edith knows how lucky she is to have a young man like Frank. Even the attentions of pretty girls are less in demand with fewer men in circulation desiring their company. Unlike Edith, Hilda is a little on the plump side, enjoying the indulgence of sticky buns from the bakers and an extra serving of Victoria Sponge at the Lyons Corner Shop********* at the top of Tottenham Court Road. Her face is friendly, with soft brown eyes and a warm smile, but she isn’t pretty. Even with the judicious application of a little powder and rouge acquired from the make-up counter of Selfridges********** her skin lacks the fresh gleam that Edith has, and for as long as she has known her, Edith has always found Hilda to have a very pale complexion. When the three of them do go dancing, Frank is often the only man she dances with when he partners her around the dancefloor, and more often than not, Hilda ends up taking the part of the man, dancing with any number of other neglected wallflowers, just to ward of the tedium of waiting for someone to ask her to dance. The plight, for plight it was, of women like Hilda was all too common, in the post-war world of the 1920s.
“Perhaps you’re looking in the wrong place, Hilda.” Frank says.
“What do mean, Frank?”
“Well, a girl with brains like you needs a man who will stimulate her mentally. Perhaps you might find the man of your dreams at a library.”
“A library!” Hilda’s mind conjures up images of pale bookish young men in glasses with phlegmatic characters who would much rather shake her hand limply and discuss the benefits of Socialism, rather than sweep her off her feet romantically.
“Not at all helpful, Frank!” hisses Edith as she watches her best friend’s face fall.
“I was only joking.” Frank shrugs apologetically, unsure what to say.
Edith hurries over and wraps her arm around Hilda’s slumping shoulders consolingly. “A faint heart never won a fair lady, Hilda.” She pulls Hilda to her lovingly. Hilda looks up at her friend sadly, yet thoughtfully. “And I think it works the same in reverse.”
Seeing a way to make amends for his ill-timed joke, Frank pipes up, “That’s exactly right, Hilda. Edith wouldn’t have been anywhere near as attractive to me if she hadn’t had a bit of pluck.”
“And you look splendid in the dance frock I made for you, Hilda,” Edith adds. “Really you do.”
“Do you really think so, Edith?” Hilda asks, looking at her friend.
“Of course I do! I’m a professional seamstress, and you are my best friend. I wouldn’t make something that didn’t suit you!”
“No, no of course not.” Hilda replies.
“And didn’t Mrs. Minkin say that russet satin would suit your colourings?”
“She did.”
“Well then,” Edith replies matter-of-factly. “There is nothing more to be said.”
“That’s right.” agrees Frank, and without further ado, he sweeps Hilda into his arms.
With the ease of a natural dancer, Frank begins to waltz his partner carefully across the black and white chequered linoleum floor of the Channon’s kitchen, guiding her around the kitchen table and the chairs gathered around it, past the black and white stove and the dresser cluttered with crockery and provisions.
“Oh Frank!” Hilda says, laughing joyously as she allows herself to be swept away. “You really are a one!”
Edith smiles as she sees a light return to her best friend’s eyes, and a smile appear upon her pert lips. She considers herself so fortunate not just because she has a chap to step out with, but because Frank is so kind and considerate. Not just any man would understand or appreciate Edith’s wish to include Hilda in their excursions to the Hammersmith Palais de Danse, and not every man would be as willing to take a turn with her on the dancefloor, as has been proven. Then again, Frank is no ordinary man, and as time goes on and she gets to know him better, the more she is becoming aware that her sweetheart is a very special man indeed. She laughs as Frank dips Hilda, making her squeal in delight, before raising her up again and restoring her to her feet.
“There!” Frank says with a huff as he catches his breath. “Now that your feet are suitably warmed up, you’re ready to go, Miss Clerkenwell. We’ll have no more talk of you not wanting to come dancing with us.”
“Today might be the day you meet someone, Hilda. Don’t give up on the chance.” Edith enthuses.
“Oh alright you two!” Hilda acquiesces. “I give up. Let’s go then.”
“That’s the spirit, Hilda!” Frank says. “That pluck will win you a fine and handsome gentleman with a brain that you deserve.”
“I can hardly battle both of you, can I?” Hilda laughs as she carefully places her floppy brimmed brown velvet and copper faille poke-style bonnet decorated with a beige rose and leaves atop her head.
The three friends walk out of the kitchen door that leads out onto the flat’s back stairs and begin to descend to the street. Hilda locks the door behind her and the coffee grinder and the as of yet to be ground coffee beans sit on the table, ready for when she returns later that day to serve to Margot, Dickie and their friends Priscilla and Georgie Carter.
*The Hammersmith Palais de Danse, in its last years simply named Hammersmith Palais, was a dance hall and entertainment venue in Hammersmith, London, England that operated from 1919 until 2007. It was the first palais de danse to be built in Britain.
**The Café Royal in Regent Street, Piccadilly was originally conceived and set up in 1865 by Daniel Nicholas Thévenon, who was a French wine merchant. He had to flee France due to bankruptcy, arriving in Britain in 1863 with his wife, Célestine, and just five pounds in cash. He changed his name to Daniel Nicols and under his management - and later that of his wife - the Café Royal flourished and was considered at one point to have the greatest wine cellar in the world. By the 1890s the Café Royal had become the place to see and be seen at. It remained as such into the Twenty-First Century when it finally closed its doors in 2008. Renovated over the subsequent four years, the Café Royal reopened as a luxury five star hotel.
***Camp Coffee is a concentrated syrup which is flavoured with coffee and chicory, first produced in 1876 by Paterson & Sons Ltd, in Glasgow. In 1974, Dennis Jenks merged his business with Paterson to form Paterson Jenks plc. In 1984, Paterson Jenks plc was bought by McCormick & Company. Legend has it (mainly due to the picture on the label) that Camp Coffee was originally developed as an instant coffee for military use. The label is classical in tone, drawing on the romance of the British Raj. It includes a drawing of a seated Gordon Highlander (supposedly Major General Sir Hector MacDonald) being served by a Sikh soldier holding a tray with a bottle of essence and jug of hot water. They are in front of a tent, at the apex of which flies a flag bearing the drink's slogan, "Ready Aye Ready". A later version of the label, introduced in the mid-20th century, removed the tray from the picture, thus removing the infinite bottles element and was seen as an attempt to avoid the connotation that the Sikh was a servant, although he was still shown waiting while the kilted Scottish soldier sipped his coffee. The current version, introduced in 2006, depicts the Sikh as a soldier, now sitting beside the Scottish soldier, and with a cup and saucer of his own. Camp Coffee is an item of British nostalgia, because many remember it from their childhood. It is still a popular ingredient for home bakers making coffee-flavoured cake and coffee-flavoured buttercream. In late 1975, Camp Coffee temporarily became a popular alternative to instant coffee in the UK, after the price of coffee doubled due to shortages caused by heavy frosts in Brazil.
****A bandeau is a narrow band of fabric worn round the head to hold the hair in position. Although bandeaus existed long before the 1920s, there was a resurgence in popularity for embroidered grosgrain ribbons to be worn around the head across the forehead in the 1920s, and they are synonymous with 1920s flapper fashion.
*****The first successful artificial silks were developed in the 1890s of cellulose fibre and marketed as art silk or viscose, a trade name for a specific manufacturer. In 1924, the name of the fibre was officially changed in the U.S. to rayon, although the term viscose continued to be used in Europe.
******Although obscure as to its origin, the term “giggling Gertie” is of English derivation and was often used in a derisive way to describe silly children and young people, usually girls, who were deemed as being flippant and foolish.
*******Queen Alexandra was Queen of the United Kingdom and the British Dominions, and Empress of India, from the twenty-second of January 1901 to the sixth of May 1910 as the wife of King-Emperor Edward VII. Daughter of King Christian IX of Denmark, at the age of sixteen Alexandra was chosen as the future wife of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, the son and heir apparent of Queen Victoria. When she arrived in England she was famed for her beauty and her style of dress and bearing were copied by fashion-conscious women. From Edward's death, Alexandra was queen mother, being a dowager queen and the mother of the reigning monarch. Alexandra retained a youthful appearance into her senior years, but during the Great War her age caught up with her. She took to wearing elaborate veils and heavy makeup, which was described by gossips as having her face "enamelled".
********Although today we tend to say as “pleased as punch”, the Victorian term actually began as “proud as punch”. This expression refers to the Punch and Judy puppet character. Punch's name comes from Punchinello, an Italian puppet with similar characteristics. In Punch and Judy shows, the grotesque Punch is portrayed as self-satisfied and pleased with his evil actions.
*********J. Lyons and Co. was a British restaurant chain, food manufacturing, and hotel conglomerate founded in 1884 by Joseph Lyons and his brothers in law, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein. Lyons’ first teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, and from 1909 they developed into a chain of teashops, with the firm becoming a staple of the High Street in the United Kingdom. At its peak the chain numbered around two hundred cafes. The teashops provided for tea and coffee, with food choices consisting of hot dishes and sweets, cold dishes and sweets, and buns, cakes and rolls. Lyons' Corner Houses, which first appeared in 1909 and remained until 1977, were noted for their Art Deco style. Situated on or near the corners of Coventry Street, Strand and Tottenham Court Road, they and the Maison Lyonses at Marble Arch and in Shaftesbury Avenue were large buildings on four or five floors, the ground floor of which was a food hall with counters for delicatessen, sweets and chocolates, cakes, fruit, flowers and other products. In addition, they possessed hairdressing salons, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and at one period a twice-a-day food delivery service. On the other floors were several restaurants, each with a different theme and all with their own musicians. For a time, the Corner Houses were open twenty-four hours a day, and at their peak each branch employed around four hundred staff including their famous waitresses, commonly known as Nippies for the way they nipped in and out between the tables taking orders and serving meals. The tea houses featured window displays, and, in the post-war period, the Corner Houses were smarter and grander than the local tea shops. Between 1896 and 1965 Lyons owned the Trocadero, which was similar in size and style to the Corner Houses.
********** Selfridges, also known as Selfridges & Co., is a chain of upscale department stores in the United Kingdom that is operated by Selfridges Retail Limited, part of the Selfridges Group of department stores. It was founded by Harry Gordon Selfridge in 1908. Harry Gordon Selfridge, Sr. was an American-British retail magnate who founded the London-based department store. His twenty year leadership of Selfridge’s led to his becoming one of the most respected and wealthy retail magnates in the United Kingdom. He was known as the 'Earl of Oxford Street'.
***********Faille is a type of cloth with flat ribs, often made in silk. It has a softer texture than grosgrain, with heavier and wider cords or ribs. Weft yarns are heavier than warp, and it is manufactured in plain weaving. It was especially popular in the Nineteenth Century, and its popularity, although somewhat dwindling, did carry through into the early decades of the Twentieth Century.
This cosy domestic kitchen scene is a little different to what you might think, for whilst it looks very authentic, it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
On Hilda’s deal table stands her coffee grinder with its brass handle, wooden base and drawer, and red knobs. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom. The little Delftware canister and the white china bowl also come from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop. The coffee beans in the bowl are really black carraway seeds. The vase of flowers comes from an online shop on E-Bay.
Hilda’s Windsor chair is a hand-turned 1:12 artisan miniature which came from America. Unfortunately, the artist did not carve their name under the seat, but it is definitely an unmarked artisan piece.
In the background you can see a very modern and up-to-date 1920s gas stove. It would have been expensive to instal at the time, and it would have been the cook’s or maid’s pleasure to cook on and in. It would have included a thermostat for perfect cooking and without the need of coal, it was much cleaner to feed, use and easier to clean. It is not unlike those made by the Roper Stove Company in the 1920s. The Roper Stove Company previously named the Florence-Wehrle Company among other names, was founded in 1883. Located in Newark, Ohio, the company was once the largest stove producer in the world. Today, the Roper Stove Company is a brand of Whirlpool.
The nicest girl of the village. Hoba Haru village
Himba women are famous for covering their body and hair with a paste made of butter, ochre (hematite powder) and ashes, called otjize, which is supposed to protect them from the sun and the insects. The red complexion it gives to women’s skin, is considered a sign of beauty. Body decoration is important in Himba culture, especially for women. They wear jewelry made of shell, metal, bone or skin. Women usually go topless (as well as men) and wear a skirt made of goat skin. Adult women also wear heavy iron or copper necklaces, that can weigh several kilos, and beaded anklets to protect their legs from venomous animal bites. Himba dress codes and hairstyle rules are very complex. Himba hairstyles are really meaningful as they enable to identify their social status. Pre-pubescent girls wear 2 plaits in front of their faces. Replacing them with many strands hanging all over the head, means the girl is in her puberty period. A girl with long tied back braids is considered ready for marriage. Once married, an « erembe » (a piece of goat leather) is tied to the top of her head.
Although mariage is important in Himba culture, extra marital relations are encouraged. Polygamy is the rule for men and women also, who can have other partners in addition of their husband. This free sexuality in Himba culture might be explained by the fact that, children are needed in order to raise cattle. Sexual relations before marriage are authorized, maybe in order to make polygamy more accepable. Boys are generally circumcised before puberty in (around the age of 7 or 8), to make them eligible for marriage and leave the camp on this occasion during a few days, Girls also leave when they have their first periods. Weddings are arranged when boys are about nineteen and girls around thirteen.
Despite their traditional autarky and remoteness Himbas get in touch with modern culture, and unfortunately with one of its worse plagues : AIDS. The sexual pratices of the Himba increase the risk of infection, a few cases have been reported. HIV virus is spreading mainly through cultural norms. This is all the more worrying for namibian authorities as Himbas are not aware of what AIDS is, and have difficulty understanding they could be ill and even die, as it takes time for the effects of the virus to become apparent in human host. A disease that might kill them in several years is not a major concern for them, especially for the elders.
© Eric Lafforgue