Brass and Brown Leather: The Steampunk Aristocrat

Dorian Gray Corner 2: How to avoid being gauche

2012-01-02T13:55:00.000-08:00

Any time I am at conventions or other gatherings of steampunks, I am often struck by the skill with which those in attendance have assembled their outfits. This does not, however, prevent certain individuals from making some truly appalling fashion choices. Often, this is simply a matter of bad judgment, and with that spirit in mind the Dorian Gray corner has returned to provide some insight into how not to walk out the door in an outfit of such atrocious construction that it could make even a blind person wince.

1. Before you even THINK about buying something for an outfit, as a steampunk, it behooves you to make damned sure that what you are purchasing is, in fact, unique. I am sure we have all seen the infamous steampunk octopus – a metal cut out whose ubiquity on Etsy (and Regretsy) has becomes veritable legend. Don’t show up at a con decked out in the generic ‘steampunk’ refuse that talentless hacks have taken to peddling in the hope of a quick buck and at the expense of any number of good clocks.

2. Avoid shoddy workmanship like the PLAGUE. Remember, if you have an opportunity to wear a full steampunk outfit, you want to SHINE, and if your outfit was clearly constructed cheaply, it WILL show.

3. Dress to your body type. Anyone can look stylish, but it hinges on a person being willing to dress to their body, rather than trying to force yourself into an outfit that may suit an idealized human being. As per example, I have an hourglass figure, with emphasis on both the top and bottom of the hourglass. As such, I will not wear a vest unless it has a corseted back, as a regular vest will simply hang straight from my upper assets and give the impression that I am an extremely fat cylinder. So, even though I love vests, I forego them.

4. Consider what you will be doing in this getup. Do not wearing revealing clothes in subzero weather, do not wear a long-line corset if you intend to be able to bend over, and don’t wear high heels if you are hoping to run anywhere. Apply some common sense.

5. Once you have gotten into your outfit, take a look in the mirror. Then walk away. Then return and look again. If you can, view the outfit in several different kinds of light. Zero in on anything that jars with the rest of the outfit, and no matter how much it pains you, remove these from the outfit.

6. Beware of looking ‘clunky’. Steampunk outfits tend to lend themselves to a lot of gadgets, and this is fine to a certain degree. One must remember, however, that it behooves one to adhere to rule 2. If you’re getting dressed up, make sure you’re exhibiting only the best of your collection, and always adhere to Coco Chanel’s maxim that, before one goes out the door, take off one accessory.

7. Make sure your attitude suits your outfit. After all, if you have the chance to dress the part, it’s also time to act the part. So don’t be afraid to play your role to the hilt.

A Bevy of Steampunk Beverages

2011-10-04T12:05:00.000-07:00

I am not ashamed to say that I love a good drink. With few exceptions, I have found most wines, beers, and hard liquor in all its varied forms to be wonderful, wonderful things. Of course that train of thought has led me to eventually seek out the best and the brightest – as well as the strangest – in the realms of alcohol. So, for your delectation and delight, some examples of beer, wine, and general booze that I classify as steampunk!

1. Kraken Rum: This probably goes without saying, all things considered. The label/bottle alone are extremely good reasons to buy it. The rum itself, however, may take some getting used to for those more accustomed to Captain Morgan and Bacardi. It packs a serious, burning punch when you drink it straight (as myself and some of my more adventurous friends have been known to do.) In mixed drinks it loses that nasty/lovely caustic element and goes down nice and smooth. The flavor is heavy on vanilla, with other spices like cinnamon and cloves acting as ‘backup dancers’, if you will. (Please note, you must say ‘Release the Kraken’ when you open it. It’s the law.)

2. Steam Whistle Beer: I mentioned this umpteen blog posts ago, but Steam Whistle, if you can get it, is an excellent, light, Canadian pilsner, eminently drinkable. It goes great with luncheon type food and is very refreshing. The label itself is what causes me to class it as steampunk, and the brilliant green bottle is also very pretty to look at. One small problem; I haven’t been able to find it in the US, despite much scowering.

3. Ichabod ale: From the New Holland brewery, this is a wonderful seasonal beer. They use pumpkins in the mix (which I cannot taste) and spices (which I most definitely can). The end result is one of the few dark-er beers that I actually enjoy. (As a rule of thumb I almost always drink IPAs, partially because I love how they taste but also because most people don’t like them and therefore won’t steal mine.)

4. Midas Touch: Derived from the chemical sampling of the inside of an ancient, cauldron, this stuff is apparently pretty damn close to what ancient people used to get sloshed on. It’s good, albeit pricey (saffron is used in the brewing process), middle of the range on the sliding scale of pale to dark beers, and while I don’t know that it’s one of my favorites, it’s still a great way to strike up conversation at parties.

5. Biere de Mars: An awesome Belgian beer, this stuff comes in an ENORMOUS bottle, and you will be tempted to drink it all in one go. And in this case, you can give in to temptation. The stuff is amazing -light, bubbly, and otherworldly. It makes me want to climb aboard the Enterprise or the TARDIS and go whizzing through space.

I have not, however, been able to find a steampunk gin. Any suggestions on that front are welcome.

When a film fan becomes a film fail

2011-08-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

I love art films. That’s just a given. I adore Pan’s Labyrinth, the 1979 Nosferatu, the short films of the Brothers Quay, and Koyaanisqatsi, amongst many other films of that ilk. Often, the weirder and more disturbing the movie is, the more likely it is that I am all over it like ants on a sugar heap. I really and truly love when films push my boundaries and expect me to think for myself. This, however, does not prevent me from enjoying more mainstream works. I adored Priest, Thor, Cowboys and Aliens, and the Hangover 2, and that’s just this summer’s roster of movies that I saw. Did I consider any of them to be extremely deep or meaningful? No, not really, but they entertained me, made me roll with laughter, hold my breath with suspense, and generally have a grand time with a bucket of popcorn on my lap.

So now, I offer a heartfelt rant to the world. All you snobby film viewers who insist on criticizing any film that doesn’t fit your concept of high cinema, please remove your collective head from your collective ass. I had to put up with one of your kind, a self-centered hipster who refused to give any credit to the actors (in her eyes everything was due to the magic of the director) or to speculate on the meanings of particularly arcane movies. She drove me crazy. All she ever did was quote essays about the films in question, never once producing an independent thought of her own.

Obviously, it was this hipster who fueled my outright hatred of film snobbery, but I feel everyone, especially those of us who love art films, should take this sort of behavior into consideration before you open your trap to lambast a film. Now of course I’m not saying that you shouldn’t criticize a movie you dislike (I’d be out of a job then), but I do suggest that you consider whether the film was really and truly *bad*, rather than it just didn’t make the cut for the Cannes Film Festival. And there are, in fact, plenty of films that are really and truly bad, (The Last Airbender, DEAR GOD, THE LAST AIRBENDER) and ripe for the shredding. In other words, here are some good, non-subjective reasons for disliking a movie: Wooden script, abysmal acting across the board, abuse of special affects for no good reason, and enormous plotholes. Here are reasons that may mean the world to you, but are in fact subjective and it may be better to keep to yourself: The film wasn’t directed by your favorite director, it was made by a big Hollywood studio, it was designed to entertain rather than to inspire nirvana….etcetera.

Also respect other’s right to dislike *your* movies. I don’t look down people because they didn’t like Black Swan or Inglourious Basterds. And I (and many others besides myself) would take it as a kindness that we be allowed to dislike movies regardless of the film’s perceived merit. As per example Citizen Kane just plain bores me to tears. Yes I know it’s supposed to be a classic, but I’d rather watch Attack of the Killer Tomatoes than be forced to contemplate Rosebud one more time. Or hear a hipster dissect the symbolism of Rosebud one more time. In other words; film likes and dislikes are subjective, and disliking a film is not automatically a sign that one is an uncouth yokel.

Finally, one does not have to have read every book on film or seen every arthouse flick to have an opinion on a movie. I love Nosferatu for its powerful Memento Mori attitudes, and I do not give a specific DAMN about the New German Cinema style that produced it or its goals, nor do I feel any need to. Directors, after all, may make a film in a certain way and hope to send a certain message, but everyone will walk away with differing opinions. People filter what they see through their own experiences and perspectives, and if you find yourself filtering your films entirely through the lenses of others, you will end up like the hipster I mentioned earlier: a squawking parrot with no opinion of your own.

In summary, watch the movies you love, debate about them politely while keeping the subjective elements in mind, respect the likes and dislikes of others, and never feel obligated to watch a film you hate/have no interest in.

Steampunk Reviews: Episode 27

2011-08-03T21:48:00.000-07:00

The Great Purse Dilemma

2011-06-29T09:44:00.000-07:00

This is one area that continues to daunt me in my Steampunk wardrove. Despite a closet full of Victorian clothes and shoes, a jewelry box brimming with pretties made of old watch pieces, and a vast selection of other props ranging from parasols to goggles to gasmasks, I’m still out of luck in the purse department.

Most of this issue boils down to the fact that my purse needs be, out of necessity, a veritable black hole. My current bag of holding has a couple dozen pockets and compartments, allowing me to carry virtually anything, which I usually do. Like Mary Poppins, I can produce pens, paper, motrin, food, money, makeup, a selection of tools, and all the varied gear required in my day to day life with its bizarre occurrences and teeth rattling near misses. All the Steampunk purses I’ve seen, however, tend to be large but lack any compartments or organization worth writing home about. Up with this, obviously, I will not put, and I have remained sans-Steampunk-carrying device, though I have still not given up hope that such a purse exists.

So I’m putting out a call here: If anyone knows of a place or a website where I can get a decent (and stylish) Steampunk purse/bag/WHATEVER of sufficient capacity, I would be eternally grateful.

World Steam Expo 2011

2011-06-15T10:55:00.000-07:00

I’m sorry about the delay in delivering this entry. I’ve been waiting to see if more photos of myself cropped up in the World Steam Expo Flickr account (http://www.flickr.com/groups/world_steam_expo/pool/), which, ironically, yielded several photos of me from the 2010 Expo, but very few of me this time round, save a couple shots that featured me in the background. Which is odd, since I know from the many times I was asked to pose that there are plenty of pictures from the 2011 Expo out there.

Anyway.

This year’s Expo was an improvement in every way possible. The schedule was better put together and had many awesome events (I rappelled from the ceiling in six inch heels! And there *are* pics of it somewhere, though I haven't been able to find them), the dealer room had many more sellers and a broader selection of merchandise (I bought a TON of stuff :D), and as a rule of thumb things worked better all the way around. The only major issues were mechanical ones, which I forgive readily in that *something* has to go wrong to appease Murphy’s Law. Better that it’s the microphone refusing to work than something really catastrophic occurring. Also I was recognized by several people for my show, including the people at Brute Force Studios, G. D. Falksen, and Frenchie and the Punk. OH, THE AWESOME. *rolls around in glee*

And now on to the photos!

BOOYAH!

That's the rappelling tower. I jumped off that in six inch heels. You do the math.

I love the anachronistic nature of this photo.

At an Aegis presentation. Also, dreadlocks.

These next two photos were taken at the SmarterPics booth in the dealers room and involved a green screen, hence the awesome background. This was my outfit on the first day.

Outfit on day two. This is also my new profile pic, and during the Expo my unique shade of lipstick earned me the title of 'blue lips'. That is my beloved modded nerf gun in front, which I geekily named 'Not My Funeral' in honor of Gwynn from the Etched City's sword.

These two photos were actually taken in 2010, but I figure they're still awesome and therefore sharable.

I love the way the front of my skirt has folded itself in this shot.

And here ^ my friends, is a video, taken by G. D. Falksen, which I appear in during the first few moments. I salute the camera with my Brute Force Studios fan, and between that and my hypothermic lipstick I'm pretty unmistakable.

Steampunk Reviews: Episode 26

2011-05-21T12:18:00.000-07:00

I'll be posting my reviews here from now on.

Dorian Gray Corner 1: Designing an outfit

2011-05-16T07:37:00.000-07:00

I’ve been asked several times how I go about putting together my Steampunk clothing ensembles: Where exactly do I get my ideas, how do I bring them to fruition, etcetera. So I’m going to let you, my dear readers, in on my various secrets in this series of articles, named after one of the most appearance obsessed book characters of all time.

First of all, one important thing to bear in mind is that anyone attempting to put together an outfit of any sort needs to rely on their sense of taste and style. Taste, of course, can be a rather subjective concept, and if one feels that one’s own sense isn’t up to par, it’s advisable to involve someone else in the proceedings if for nothing else than a second opinion. Indeed, even if you normally feel your fashion abilities surpass those of everyone around you, it’s still advisable to ask someone else what they think before you go traipsing out the door wearing some bizarre concoction of clothes. (Note: This rule is negated if the central conceit of your outfit is of a grand enough scale. Or if you are Lady Gaga.)
Now, on to the actual designing of an outfit. When I begin the process of coming up with some new Steampunk get up I always start off with some sort of inspiration. As per example, the idea for the ensemble I wear during my Steampunk makeup and clothing tutorial on my youtube channel (http://www.youtube.com/user/yankee999?feature=mhee#p/u/3/BhaS9VcE560) was derived from the character Grell a la the manga Black Butler. I started by pinpointing Grell’s central color scheme of black, white, and bright red (black, white, and red is also arguably Sebastian’s color scheme, but his red is more a shade of maroon or claret while Grell’s is more in line with the color of blood or roses.) From there I assessed what clothes I had that fit that schematic, as well as the general visual tone of the manga (clean lines, minimal visual foofrah) and from there weeded out any excessively lacey or gauzy pieces of clothing. What was left was a pinstriped skirt made from black suiting, a black blouse, black-red-and-white corset, black boots, and black bustle coat. I assembled this, then added a silver pendant strung on a red ribbon, garnet earrings, and some makeup. Ta-dah! Outfit complete.
This same process can be followed by anyone. Pick a starting point for inspiration, assess the color and style of the inspiration, find clothes + jewelry + makeup that match that style, then put it all together and out the door you go.

Branching out

2011-05-06T17:26:00.000-07:00

So it has occurred to me that while this is supposed to be a Steampunk blog, I tend to spend far too much time talking about my personal life and issues. Given that fact, I’ve decided to outsource my personal problems to a new blog. Said new blog is called the Nyarlathotep Files, and here’s the appropriate link: http://nyarlathotepfiles.blogspot.com/. So if you like hearing me rant on and on (and ON) about life at Miskatonic and the insanity here, subscribe over there. From now on this blog will be strictly focused on Steampunk, how to incorporate it into one’s life, and other gear related topics.
And in other news, I now have my very own theme song for my reviews, another one of which should be gracing us in the near future.

Peacock Queen Reborn

2011-04-20T12:33:00.000-07:00

So, if you follow my twitter (it’s in the blog sidebar! Go follow me now!) you know I lost out for the position of president of the Miskatonic Film Society. To say I’m still sore on the subject is an understatement, but I can say that I’m no longer heartbroken. I’ve learned some valuable lessons, primarily that I am no more meant to meddle in politics than I am meant to grow wings and fly to the moon. And after three months of dying to myself, I am free. Free not only to return to my Felix Harrowgate-esque self, but also to start a club of my own – the Miskatonic Scifi and Fantasy Club. No, one does not exist already, to my utter bafflement.

I am not, however, free of anger in regards to my being beaten for the position. Most of my rage derives from the fact that my opponent rigged the voting, and given that he was in a relationship with the current president at the time I should have known I was over a barrel the minute the sides were lined up. I took my defeat as gracefully as I could, of course, as an aristocrat should, but that does not seem to be enough for the new president. At this juncture I have even gone so far as to offer the hand of friendship to get dialogue going with him – a rather important gesture, given that I was elected vice president and we have to WORK TOGETHER – but thus far no luck. If he keeps it up things are going to become REALLY unpleasant in our near future.

Thankfully, now I’m back after three months of living in a coffin of my own misguided ambition for all the wrong things. So strap on your goggles, friends, and hold on. I suspect things are going to get a mite wild.

The Etch-e-sketch of the Elder Gods

2011-04-06T12:15:00.000-07:00

Well spring seems to be clawing its way into the cold heart of Miskatonic for the first time in months. And as is the custom of Miskatonic spring, it heralds its arrival with some of the most bizarre shifts in weather imaginable. Over the course of one weekend, I was privileged to be pelted with rain, snow, sleet, and hail, with periodic moments of sunlight. The reason for the ridiculous weather is often blamed on everything from the hilly land to the nearby lakes or what have you, but as far as I’m concerned Miskatonic has its insane weather because we happen to exist in the elder god’s weather based etch-e-sketch, which Yog Sothoth enjoys shaking spastically whenever spring rolls around.

Moving on.
A new review will be up by the weekend. I swear to god. I know I’ve been extremely delayed in my updating, but things have been pretty hairy over here, in one way or another. The friend based drama continues and it has seriously taxed my emotional wherewithal. This in turn makes me anxious and prone to freak outs on a grand scale (as an aristocrat, I never do anything in halves. If I’m going to lose my mind, I’m going to lose ALL of it.)

This makes it very hard to get anything except the most basic requirements of school done. I am pleased to report, however, that I seem to be climbing back out of the pit of despair, and hopefully I can stay out of it permanently this time.
Finally, I’m fully prepared for the World Steam Expo. Outfits are prepped, registrations are purchased, friends are roped in, and I am super excited. Is anyone else coming? Post in the comments

Current interests, part 2

2011-03-23T21:11:00.000-07:00

Rin: Daughters of Mnemosyne. This anime looks like a total mind screw, on so many separate levels. From what I've gathered about it, it is most certainly not for the faint of heart, and anyone who's interested in watching it should go in fully aware that it is for the mature crowd in every sense of the word. I still plan on seeing it, though. I've yet to meet any book/film/tv series/anime that could freak me out enough to make me totally flip my wig. I have, on the other hand, encountered just the *descriptions* of a few internet memes that did just that. Draw your own conclusions as to which ones they were.

Cooking and Indian food. I've recently gone off on a huge cooking jag, and have been absorbing recipes right left and center. I don't think we'll be treated to my turning into Julie from Julie and Julia but I think you can all certainly expect to hear about my cooking endeavors, experiments, and abject failures. I am currently focusing my attentions on Indian cuisine, mostly due to the fact that volume four of Black Butler featured copious references to curry and piqued my interest. I also have been drinking more chai tea, specifically a new flavor from Teavana known as Maharaja Chai Oolong. Oh my word, it's spectacular!

The Secret History. This has always been one of my favorite books, but I've recently been re-reading it (or at least re-reading specific passages). The plot, which features a group of sophisticated classics students who get sucked into their own modern version of a Greek tragedy, is gripping in the extreme. The book is notable for its amazing characterization and superb (albeit deliciously dysfunctional) group dynamics, and I've always been fond of two of the lead characters: Henry Winter, a Mycroft Holmes-esque polymath with ice in his veins and a nasty attitude, and Francis Abernathy, an aristocratic drama king whose shoes I often seem to find myself in when I'm at Miskatonic. (Feelings on that subject: THANK GOD I'M HOME.)

Etiquette: You are not exempt from it.

2011-03-16T11:03:00.000-07:00

I suspect I am not the only person this has happened to. Tell me when this starts sounding familiar: You spend the first decade or so under the careful tutelage of your parents, who do their absolute damnedest to instill good manners and etiquette in you, their offspring. If your upbringing was similar to mine, this also involved being taken to various formal events where it was an unspoken fact that bad behavior would be eliminated with extreme prejudice, further cementing the behavior. You may not think of yourself as egregiously polite or well mannered, but that’s primarily because you spend most of your time in contact with those who hold themselves to a similar standard, whether any of you know it or not. Everything is dandy.
Then one day you find yourself in an environment where none of this holds true. This may or may not occur when one is in any level of grade school. For myself, I certainly experienced less than pleasant exchanges with many of my fellow students in high school, but I usually chalked that up to their dislike of me, rather than their having been raised in a barn. My big awakening occurred at Miskatonic. ANYWAY, you have been dropped on your ass amongst a bunch of cretins who don’t say please, thank you, or bother with utensils. Usually, I find, this inspires rage and frustration in the subject, and, if you’re Hannibal Lecter, psychopathic behavior. For me, it certainly entrenched my misanthropic view of humanity even deeper.

So let’s get something straight here: MANNERS ARE NOT OPTIONAL, FOR ANYONE. They provide orchestration and direction that prevents idiotic mishaps. Perfect example: Last week I was going down a narrow, crowded stair case. I kept to the right, AS YOU SHOULD, and so did most people. A few jackasses, however, decided that the line wasn’t moving fast enough, went into the ‘oncoming’ lane, and tried to make a break for it…only to have people need to get past them on their way up. Cue massive pile-up and delay. And for those who say that manners are sexist, I have this reply: They shouldn’t be. Just as an example, everyone should hold doors for everyone else, gender being utterly besides the point, and those having doors held for them should thank the holder. (As a side note, I find most women to be far ruder than men. They don’t bother to hold doors, smack people with their purses, and act infuriatingly entitled in every damn way you can imagine. NOT ACCEPTABLE, FELLOW FEMALES.)
Finally, there comes a point where things just go to far and, in my opinion, the only correct response to such blatant rudeness is to throw it back in the face of its progenitor. To illustrate: The Miskatonic café has limited seating. Around lunch time, when I am usually there, the seating becomes even more limited when scores of troglodytes troupe in, drop their bags and coats on every table in sight, and then go to lunch, leaving their things, supposedly secure in the knowledge that the table in question is ‘saved’ for them and rendering people like me, who can’t get there till class lets out, SOL if they want to sit down to eat a meal like a civilized human being. After a few weeks of this, I lost my temper and decided to play their game. So if there is nowhere to sit in the café I MAKE a place, shoving people’s stuff to the side or transferring them to another table and taking what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Obviously I’ve received blowback for doing so, but in every case I’ve been able to use a combination of good manners and a pointedly worded explanation that should make the idiot brigade in question think twice before usurping a table they won’t even be using.
As an added bonus, manners are far more productive than *eating* someone, fava beans or no.

Dress has always been my strongest suit

2011-03-09T11:22:00.000-08:00

Recently, while thinking about the impending Steam Expo, I was struck by a bolt of clothing related terror. All my outfits seemed shabby, most certainly unfit for an aristocrat intending to make her obligatory splash at a big Steampunk con. I frantically began searching the internet for some new outfits but - Quelle horreur! - all were so expensive and I needed that cash to purchase a mask for the masked ball! I was in a state of full blown hysterics when I actually bothered to start digging through my closet. That's when I realized that there was nothing wrong with my wardrobe - only with my perception of it. I had plenty of outfits, but lack of reason to get dressy had stunted my memory. So I began a delighted reunion with my varied bustles, corsets, and bloomers, and came to an understanding. Simply put: A wardrobe renovation need not require breaking the bank.

Step 1: If you feel your clothing habits have stagnated, it's best to ask yourself why. In my case, being shut up in Misktonic without any real reason to get dressed up had driven a couple nails into the coffin of my struggling fashion sense, aided by the fact that the bitterly cold winter precluded anything less than the sturdiest outfits. Jeans were the only reasonable leg-wear, coats were mandatory, and the threat of frostbite was certainly enough to keep me out of my silks and lace in favor of down and canvas (the winter did, however, provide a good reason to wear fur).

Step 2: Begin any potential renovating by getting reacquainted with your various clothes. Go through drawers. Dig through closets. As soon as I began to do this I discovered I had plenty of perfectly wonderful outfits just waiting to happen. Remember that both closets and drawers (as well as hat boxes, bureaus, chifforobes, laundry bags, wardrobes, attics, and what have you) are sneaky bastards who tend to skew your opinion of the state of your clothing affairs. Act accordingly.

Step 3: If you feel the need, remove any worn out clothes/clothes you just have absolutely no use for whatsoever. It may occur that your drawers are packed full of perfectly awesome day and night wear, but all that has been buried under ugly but well intentioned sweaters from Aunt Millie or t-shirts your co-workers/fellow students/WHOEVER keep giving you. Get rid of these. Give them away, re-gift them, turn them into quilts, use them as cat beds, stuff them under the door to prevent drafts, just get them the hell out of your wardrobe.

Step 4: Assess what is left behind. Is your selection of clothing satisfying? Do you feel you have too much of one thing and too little of another? Here is where you begin planning - if you find the need - to go shopping for fresh clothes. Be strategic. Don't just go out any buy a whole bunch of stuff because 'you need something new'. Instead, decide that, for example, you could use more leg wear and carefully select three pairs of new trousers that you can match to almost anything. Hell, if you can afford it go out and get three pairs of all purpose trousers tailor made for you. Using forethought in wardrobe renovation means you should have fewer things to buy and, as consequence, allows you to spend more money on them to make sure they last.

Current interests, part 1

2011-03-02T11:45:00.000-08:00

The Kowloon Walled City: I hadn't heard of this place (it is no longer in existence, for better or worse) till today, and quite honestly I'm fascinated. Virtually any fan of Sci Fi, Fantasy, and, of course, Steampunk, is well acquainted with the trope of a slum, often walled off from an otherwise perfectly respectable city, where the buildings have grown so out of control that people walking around at the ground level can't actually see the sky, where police refuse to go into unless
in force, and wbere one can go from one side of the place to the other without ever needing to touch the ground. Whether it's the Narrows of Batman Begins, the Infinite Fortress from Getbackers, or the Raft from Snow Crash, the trope is EVERYWHERE. And, as I discovered today, there was, once upon a time, just such a place in reality. That place was the Kowloon Walled City. Look it up. It's kinda weirdly awesome.

Merimask: Expo time is creeping up on me again, and as such it's time for me to buy a new mask for the masquerade ball. So, as I have in the past, I turn to Merimask. This supremely talented mask-maker has been putting out some truly gorgeous new designs, including this particularly lovely specimen that I'm salivating over. The mask was inspired by the Greek god Hermes. And is uber expensive. But, my god, I just may starve myself so that I can buy it.

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: Yeah, I know. Me and everyone else. Honestly, though, if you get into the book or see the (ORIGINAL SWEDISH) movie, and cannot be just a *little* enamored of Lisbeth Salander and the sheer level of badass she embodies, I suggest you go hide under whatever sheltered rock you came out from under and stay there.
Rasputina: This band has obviously been around for quite a long time, and I’d heard about them in passing, but only recently did I start listening to them, and I’ve become very fond of the music.
Red Riding Hood: Yes, it’s directed by the same woman who did Twilight, but it looks so pretty….and it has Gary Oldman….and whatever you say about the Twilight films, the issue with them is more inherent in the source material than the actual direction. That and Kristen Stewart seriously needs to wake up fully before she opens her mouth. And Robert Pattinson needs a bath.

Breakups, Switzerland, and a whopping case of drama

2011-02-28T19:21:00.000-08:00

As those who follow my twitter know, I recently broke up with my boyfriend. Or not so recently. Time these days has become intensely subjective due to the snow-darkened day-to-day routine of life at Miskatonic. Events that actually happened a month ago can feel like just yesterday, and one's recent midday meal may seem to have occurred in another millennia altogether. It's not easy to deal with. At any rate, I am single again. It wasn't a necessarily easy decision, but it *was* one that had to happen. Due to a multitude of issues (my grandfather, who inspired me to pursue my study of history, died, and I've been sick a great deal, with both of those problems compounded by the fact that I've been ass-deep in work), I'm not in a place where I can deal with a relationship. I have to get back on my feet as a daring and decadent aristocrat before I can even consider romance, and even when I do I know I'm not interested in hopping back in the saddle of love. After all, I have, in theory, a limited amount of time to enjoy a single life, uncomplicated by the responsibilities of a significant other. So I'm going to enjoy it, put my energies into my studies, both in school and personally (I'm teaching myself Sumerian and studying mycology when I have a moment), and have the time of my single life.

My friends, however, are having a considerably rougher experience where Cupid and his thoughtless arrows are concerned. Simply put, two of my friends who were dating each other broke up, in one of the more spectacularly melodramatic ways possible, made worse by the fact that they had been cohabitating at the time. As a consequence, sides were drawn up, banners were raised, and what amounts to World War III broke out among mes amies. The worst aspect of all this? I'm the only neutral party in the group. So, like poor Switzerland, I'm forced to watch every move I make lest I find myself bombed (metaphorically speaking) off the face of the earth by either party. The stress is horrendous, and I'm thoroughly sick of it all, but as yet I have found no way to extricate myself from the proceedings. It's at times like these that I wish I could break up with *friends* as well as with lovers, because if any paramour of mine ever gave me this much trouble I'd have kicked them to the curb long ago. Nyarlathotep on a unicycle, what I do for friendship, let alone love....

At any rate, a new review should appear in a week. Presuming I don't just spontaneously combust and end all the drama in one fell swoop.

Snow Madness

2011-02-21T13:38:00.000-08:00

Last night, when I went to sleep, the ground was clear and clean. A week of fine weather had blessed the Miskatonic campus with the sight of dead grass for the first time since sometime in November. The mood was joyous, with everyone hoping that while more snow might come, it would not fall as thickly or viciously as it had in the weeks prior.

This morning I woke up to the reality in the pictures I've posted here. And not only did it snow last night, oh no. Miskatonic was pelted by FREEZING RAIN that has ripped down tree branches and taken out campus power like the hand of some malevolent elder god. Questions abound as to how classes will be carried on, as it seems the weather will not get anywhere near melting till Thursday. Maybe. And that's if we keep our fingers crossed and possibly throw in a few unholy rites for added effect.

I, meanwhile, am ensconsed in my dorm and am able to blythely ignore the weather for the time being. Like the diligent ant, I have food packed away that will feed me through this deluge while my grasshopper companions are forced to trek up hill in search of a meal. I'm also using the time to write a new review script, and hopefully will have it done and ready to turn into a video in the next week or so. And while I'm on that topic, I'm happy to announce that I will soon have my own personal theme music! Yay! Now I just need a logo..........

In which I am deported back to Miskatonic

2011-01-18T11:23:00.000-08:00

Well, after yet another long absence, I'm back. Back to writing (hopefully), back to studying (reluctantly), and back to school (unwillingly). After four weeks of rest and recuperation with my family, being dropped back at Miskatonic is like being dragged out of the Ritz Carlton and thrown in a dumpster more generally used by a hospital, a lab for the study of nuclear isotopes, and a Chinese restaurant. The temperature is miserable out here, as is to be expected, and I am in so many ways not enjoying my sans-boxsprings bed, which makes my lower spine want to pack its bags and leave me for a more caring human being. Feelings on the subject: Annoyed
The social scene is also far from enthralling at this juncture. There was a point for me where partying seemed like the be-all and end-all of social life at Miskatonic, but after attending a Ke$ha themed party at a friend's house yesterday I was left thoroughly disenchanted with the whole process. The only way to enjoy oneself was to get falling-down drunk, something that has ceased to appeal to me in the slightest. After watching the mess of people in the living room attempt to dance (those who were still sober or only slightly buzzed wobbling back and forth uncertainly, while the thoroughly smashed specimens often just gave up their hold on being vertical and let gravity do the work), I opted to head outside to converse with the would-be intellectuals standing on the stoop smoking their pipes and cigarettes and arguing about Nietzsche. This, however, proved detrimental on two fronts: For one, it became abundantly clear that all anyone wanted to do was impress each other rather than discuss anything (and my being one of the few if not the only female there at any given time, this meant that all the straight men just HAD to do their damnedest to impress me above all else. Victoria was decidely less than awed by their supposed epiphanies and infallible arguments.) For two, the smoke got in my eyes and mouth and just generally made me feel gross. So it was back inside, where I got cornered by an old aquaintance who attempted to give me profound life advice that might have been relevant to him but when applied to me was like trying to convince a shark to become a vegetarian for the good of its soul. At this point I vacated the party as fast as I could and walked home. Or attempted to walk. While I had been trying to enjoy myself while wearing too much eye makeup, the heavens had opened and unleashed freezing rain, which coated everything and led me to slip and slide most of the way home. Feelings on the subject: Disgusted

So now I'm sitting in my dorm room, suffering withdrawal from functional civilization. I'm also a tad depressed on account of the fact that the awesome book I was reading - Snow Crash - finally came to an end, and though I absolutely adored it start to finish I now cannot find anything else that I want to read. I JUST WANT MORE SNOW CRASH, DAMMIT. Feelings on the subject: Morose

And I have to do my laundry. Feelings on the subject: !@#QR(*U*(#T&*(QA#RPU ARGH

Proper bedside manner for dealing with an aristocrat

2010-12-20T19:55:00.000-08:00

A recent physical accident and subsequent period of mandatory bedrest lead me to create a list of dos and do nots for the care and feeding of one's aristocrat, be they a friend, lover, or someone who's favor you are desperately trying to get into. Here I will record the proper way to deal with a sick and/or injured aristocrat, with all their finicky and hypochondriac issues.

1. NEVER leave the aristocrat alone. Don't even think about it. If you must, arrange shifts between you and your frinds/neighbors, but do not give the aristocrat any unsupervised time*. This may seem invasive, but it prevents the aristocrat's high strung and panic prone personality from getting a chance to convince them that they're dying/going to be permanently crippled/afflicted with some bizarre ailment.

*While they must never be left alone, neither must you always have them engaged in conversation. The point is that the aristocrat never has a chance to brood deeply.

2. Do not discuss potential complications of the injuries/disease within earshot of the aristocrat. If they hear you, they WILL psychosomatically develop the symptoms, and when they do they will flip out and only get worse.

3. Even more so, DO NOT discuss potential mental/psychological issues around the aristocrat, because if you think they can break out in a rash or suffer phantom itches quickly, that's nothing compared to their ability to mimic virtually any psychosis. No sooner will you have said 'paranoid schizophrenia', than they will babble word salad at you and become convinced they're Jesus.

4. If you must talk medicine to the aristocrat, do not use long, complicated words. This rule is especially pointed at doctors. If you do speak medical jargon to them, the aristocrat is quite likely to have *just* enough knowledge of what you mean to assume the worst, and their response will be melodramatic to say the least. Also, never bother with telling them about complications/side-effects (see rule 2).

5. Keep the aristocrat comfortable and remind them they are going to be okay. Doing so will earn you a friend for life who will repay your gift of a fleece blanket with a sable stole, and who will stand by you through any crisis. Ignoring an injured aristocrat leads to resentment on their part and, if the aristocrat can arrange it, your suffering of a serious mishap during which they will refuse you any and all aid.

6. In conjunction with rule one, do not allow the aristocrat to brood, surf the internet in search of the cause of their symptoms (it only leads them to become convinced that they are infected with ebola,), or otherwise focus on their sickness/injury.

Bracing for winter

2010-12-01T00:44:00.001-08:00

Oh yes, readers. It's that time of year. Winter is champing at the bit, though current permutations of weather have been keeping it at bay. I know, however, that this wet but snow-free weather can't last, and it's always these sorts of rain storms that create the build-up for the nastiest ice you can possibly imagine (I've mentioned this before - it's hard as a rock, and a master at camoufloge under snow. I've nearly knocked my teeth out on several occasions thanks to it). So while I have the chance I'm frantically dragging together a decent array of clothes that will bear out the winter, and feeling more and more peeved at how few long-sleeved tops I have. The one benefit of the drop in temperature is the fact that I can now wear a corset without fear of heat-stroke, but it's a small benefit in comparison to the months of hell I'm expecting.

To make matters more complex, I'm also heading into finals week and the Bosch painting that is christmas shopping. The endless torment of trying to balance school and what to get who will send me to my grave years early, I swear. So I blow off steam with my research (thank God for interesting paper topics) and going to town with my friends. Which of course lead to their own stressors as I finish papers and try to piece together snappy outfits on short notice *left eye twitches spasmodially till the aristocrat holds it still.*

So be patient with me, dear readers. Things will get back on track as soon as I can swing it.
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....................I'm off to expire, now.

Night of the Living Dead Aristocrat

2010-11-17T01:20:00.000-08:00

I return! Well almost. I should (hopefully) get a new review out next week, presuming this week doesn't kill me first. And why, do you ask, am I so late in providing steampunk goodness? The reason is that I am, at the moment, fielding no less than FOUR heavy duty essays which are all due next Monday and two ENORMOUS research papers to be turned in at a later date, the end result being that if the workload doesn't cause me to spontaneously combust it means I've either achieved Nirvana or gained a super power. In the meantime, however, I'm a little nuts, and so instead I will simply provide some pictures of myself.

Me at Halloween. I was a Maenad. NO ONE knew what I was, even the girl dressed as Sookie.

And here I am getting ready for a night on the town and trying not to stare at my phone.

My cactus-that's-supposed-to-look-like-a-rock is blooming. Wait, what?

Today's forecast: Fair travel, foul weather, crops-blightingly-bad temper

2010-10-27T07:57:00.000-07:00

Well I'm back from a lovely trip to Chicago to see the opera Macbeth at the Lyric Opera. Said trip began with me boarding a train and spending upwards of five hours on the thing, contemplating my life and going on a sort of vision quest to regain some of my lost vim and vigor. After a multitude of stops, starts, slow patches, and rattling rails, I was disgorged in the belly of Union station where I met up with my aunt and uncle, whose home I occupied during my stay. The next day we attended the opera (I wore full kimono because I bloody well could and because kimonos are easily packable, as opposed to full bustled Victorian gowns. One must
make allotment for small luggage), which proved to be decent but unremarkable, leading me to doze off as Lady Macbeth ranted about her unclean hands and I mentally suggested she just buy some damn Oxiclean already. Then it was off to dinner at an absolutely SPECTACULAR restaurant where I enjoyed the best meal I've had in months, all the while gazing on the Chicago water tower. Said tower is a portion of the cityscape that has been engrained in my mind ever since, while on vacation with my family at a young age, I turned a corner and was greeted with the sight of that gorgeous, gothic structure jutting defiantly out of the modern surroundings. My father then told me the story of the Chicago fire, relating how the town of my birth had been burnt to the ground, which lodged firmly in my imagination and has never left.

The next day, however, I was once again on the train and jouncing and vibrating my way back to Miskatonic. I was reluctant to leave, as you might imagine, but I took it all with good grace, unpacking cheerfully and savoring my memories of my time. These overall good spirits lasted till the next morning when a tornado alert led to my being yanked out of bed at an ungodly hour and having to throw on a robe over the gigantic t-shirt that serves as my nightwear. My compatriots and I were then bundled into the basement lounge where we spent an hour and half, doing absolutely nothing, all the while waiting for a tornado that never came. The most exciting thing that occurred during the time was when we were informed via walky talky that a group of students, deciding that up with this they would not put, escaped the confines of whatever bunker they'd been herded into and were triumphantly marching across campus.

And now, bringing us up to date, I am in a foul mood. After taking an art history exam that I'd studied hard for I treated myself to a meal at the school cafe. There was a bit of a line, so I queued up dutifully and waited, trying to ignore the stifling heat of the student union, which made me itch and perspire in my ornate clothing. Finally I was next to be served, a fact for which I was rewarded when the bimbo at the head of the queue slammed me with her enormous blue-patent-leather-hobo-bag-monstrosity that probably cost more than the whole of my outfit (and allow me to say that the money could have been put to better use buying her some clothes that weren't made out of sweatshirt material). She also did not bother to apologize or even acknowledge that it had happened, adding insult to injury while I suffered silently after having what felt like a text book or laptop slammed into my sternum. So, dear readers, I'm in a snarlingly bad mood, the sort that leads me to want to run home, turn out all the lights, curse humanity up one side and down the other, and then throw myself melodramatically on my bed with a hot compress over my eyes.

Books, bugs, and mysteries

2010-10-14T14:40:00.000-07:00

Life moves apace, dear readers, and as per usual it's never simple. Exciting, yes, fun, sometimes, interesting, always, but never, ever simple. For starters, I'm literally drowning in books, both for pleasure and work. I've recieved a great many volumes from various publishers for my reviewing pleasure, which is fine, except for the small problem of these being rather large books. Combined with the huge amount of reading I do for my classes every single night the task of getting through any of them is more than a little daunting. I swear I will get to it, though. I just will have to take a bit longer than average, as after a certain point when I'm reading my brain goes into shutdown mode and refuses further input. *Deep, melodramatic sigh*

The bug life has also been making a nuisance of itself. The hallway of the Undercity - a collective pet name for the basement level in which my friends and I make our abode - is consistently infested with all manner of creepy crawlers. Assasin bugs, daddy-long-legs, centipedes (naturally), mosquitoes, and a host of unnamed monstrosities - all of which apparently have been using anabolic steroids because they are HUGE - regularly make us scream, run, and put our books to practical use as ideal bug killers. I chalk it up to the weather, as the dropping, autumnal temperatures tend to drive insects in doors, thus causing all manner of issues.

Also, the clanking pipes have finally come to a halt. That has not, however, brought an end to the late night noise. This time the sounds come in the form of a person, one who routinely returns to/leaves the building early in the morning, and opts to use the back door which is set to trigger an alarm if it's opened after 12 AM or before 6 AM. Said alarm has the power of a jackhammer and goes off till the door has been closed, usually by which point I'm disentangling my fingers from the ceiling plaster and trying to not have a heart attack. Who this person is remains a mystery, though I am busily compiling and correlating the incidence of the door's opening and hope to be able to bring this to a halt in the near future. Because either they cut it out or I feed them to my shoggoth. Their choice.

CLUNK. THUNK. BANG. WHACK.

2010-10-04T11:06:00.001-07:00

That’s the soundtrack of my life, currently, or at least the soundtrack of my life in my dormitory. The exact source of this noise is the prehistoric plumbing system (which was probably installed by the ancient Minoans if the pipes’ crumbly nature is any indicator), and this racket has been nonstop for two days, following an alarming leak that dripped its way through the ceiling right in front of my door. As if all this wasn’t bad enough, now the original noise has been joined by the bumping and cursing of workmen, who seem no closer to fixing the problem. Below is a photo of said problem, take that as you will.

Of course the big issue from all this is the fact that I CAN’T SLEEP. As I write this, indeed, I’ve spent a night without a wink of valuable shut eye, and am getting that distinctive sensation that presages a bad case of mental ‘blue screen of death’. Barring alcohol or barbiturates (or a lethal combo of the above substances) I feel that my chance to get a good night’s sleep are pretty much nil, and that’s likely to turn this Steampunk aristocrat into a ravening lunatic who chews her coverlets and begs for the noise to stop. Just book me a cell in Arkham and we’re all set.

Star Trek: Tik Tok

2010-09-23T15:44:00.000-07:00

ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL ROFL

Life at Miskatonic

2010-09-06T08:58:00.001-07:00

Now, just for the record, I think we all know I do not attend THE Miskatonic University. I do, however, attend a tiny college in the arse-end of nowhere, which happens to possess some very interesting books and is surrounded by a town full of people who are one generation away from developing the full blown Innsmouth Look. So it serves my purposes and attempt at privacy to refer to my school as such.

This year I'm living in a single in a 1920s era building, with plenty of privacy but also with some very like minded neighbors (I think a lovely young lady name Azenath moved in at the end of the hall), which serves my purposes nicely as I'm hoping to continue my reanimation experiments and I need assistants and - oh I'm thinking out loud again. Ha ha. *cough* The room is quite small, as my pictures indicate (see below), but it's excepitionally comfortable and the close proximity to like-minded human beings (and not so human beings) provides comfort and security.

My classes are also finally ones that go towards my major, including history and art history courses. I've had to buy a metric shit ton of books, all of which weigh so much I'm more than a little convinced they're made of depleted uranium. And don't get me started about my Latin copy of the Necronomicon. I could beat shoggoths to death with that thing.

Hopefully a new review will go up in the near future, I'm just trying to solve some issues so I can actually see the film Nickel Children, and if you haven't watched the trailer for it yet hurry up and go do it.

Feeding the tea addiction

2010-08-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

I've never been a fan of coffee. It all looks and tastes the same to me, and I prefer it to be absolutely vile rather than drowning it in sugar, milk, and whipped cream the way starbucks lovers do. I used to drink it when I was younger, but it never really filled my desire for a warm caffienated drink. At that point tea was also of little to no interest, as I was still under the impression that tea only came in stapled cheesecloth bags and tasted profoundly bad. I did love the look of teapots, however, and it was that love that drew me into Teavana in the last days of my senior year of highschool. There a very clever saleswoman proceeded to sell me an entire cast iron tea set and two hulking canisters of tea, which followed me to college, at that point unused.

Then, one innocuous day, I fired up the hot pot, threw some tea in my virginal cast-iron teapot, and made my first batch of matevana. After a few tenuous sips of that lovely chocolatey tea I knew my fate had been sealed. I was hooked. I have since gone on to broaden my selection of tea, and I now have no less than thirteen different types, as well as nine differet teacups, not including the tea-leaf reading cup that I never use as I'm too damn lazy. Don't believe me? Take a look at the photo below.

Indeed, I'm drinking tea as we speak. It's a kind brought back from England by a friend of mine, known as Yumchaa Courtesan, and is an infusion of fruit and berries, containing no actual tea leaves. It's light, tart, and quite enjoyable, as well as being a startling shade of pinkish red. Again, see below.

As for my favorite kind of tea, there's no contest there: Sweet Oolong Revolution, as made by Teavana. It's sweet, with a malted undertone, and, simply, wonderful.

So, to anyone who's on the fence about tea: Try the good stuff. You'll like it. (Joooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooin ussssssssssssssss.........)

I'm more hothouse orchid than hardy highland rose.

2010-08-11T00:54:00.000-07:00

I love to 'get away from it all' as much as the next person. How the next person and I do so, however, tend to be very different things. In my mind if one is going to take a vacation it should be to a splendidly comfortable place that requires one to merely arrive and enjoy oneself. One should not have to clean, cook, run from bugs, or anything else that is even the tiniest bit taxing. Luxurious? Yes. Decadent? Absolutely. Hence why if I had my way I would vacation very rarely, but when I did I would be doing it in the grandest style I could reasonably afford. I am a fan of the spa, the five star hotel, the best restaurants and plays, and, as you, my dear populace may have realized from my list of things I'd rather not be doing, the vacation I am currently on is not exactly my preferred method of relaxation.

It is true I've had a fairly good time thus far, though there have been considerable hangups. The largest of these has been the fact that I was recently eaten alive by chiggers, and the bites tend to get more aggravated when I'm sweating or stressed which makes me itch like mad and want to peel my own skin off. The other prime issue is that the isolated nature of the house my family is occupying means that we're all in contact a great deal, and at least two members of the family - myself and my mother specifically - are not huge people persons (or, more accurately, my mother isn't a huge people person while I am not exactly adept at social interractions with others and will often simply retreat to my boudoir when I feel cornered). This means that toes get trod on, fangs to get bared, and tempers can flare. Finally, there is a general feeling that one should be doing something all the time, and, as stated above, in my mind a vacation should be a time in which one is obligated to do absolutely nothing. Why on earth would one go way the hell out of one's way to continue the same tired routine one carries on at home?

Now, however, I do have to say, that, in said vacation's defense, it is far from bad, and, in some ways, the paragraph preceding this one was more an excuse to vent than anything else. On the plus side I've visited some of my favorite shops, gotten alot of writing done (a new review will grace us in the near future), and caught up on alot of things I've been let slide (like reading the third book of the Dark Tower series and updating the inventory I keep that records all the minerals and rocks I've collected over the years). So it's all a matter of balance, and I can at least thank my lucky stars that I'm in an actual house and not a camper, or, god forbid, a tent. I have running water and toilets that don't require the user to kick them to make sure bats don't fly out (yes, I have experienced that). The food has been lovely, and the company, when we put our rayguns down and stop trying to recreate the Mexican standoff from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, has been most pleasant.
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............................The bugs still suck.

Ways to tell if your house has been infested with steampunks, Part 1

2010-07-15T11:45:00.000-07:00

Your door looks like this:

Dammit life!

2010-07-10T20:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I fall off the bandwagon and forget I have responsibilites to my viewers. When this happens I feel depressed and unhappy. But every now and then outside forces headlock me and force me away from my computer. This makes me frustrated and angry. That's been the case of this last review-less month. I found myself running from my work (which currently involves me trekking off to dozens of libraries), to helping out with my young cousin (she's 13 years my junior), to trying to arrange a roadtrip with two of my good friends(which has proven quite complicated). Finally, however, things are cooling off and I will have a new review up in the ensuing week. A big thank you to all those who have stuck with me through this fallow period. Your patience shall be rewarded.

Steampunk Stratford

2010-06-23T22:33:00.001-07:00

This past weekend I was across the border in Canada, off dazzling my way up street and down alley in Statford, seeing plays, drinking tea (and beer! God love Canada!), and generally have a grand and suprisingly steampunk time. The gear-headedness began at the first play, As You Like It, where the set featured an enormous clock that spun at various times during the performance. I managed to snap the following photo of it before being informed that picture taking is a no-no at any point in the theatre, not just during the performance proper, but I feel it is a shame to hide it if it will inspire more people to go to the show.

The next day, while getting a light luncheon before proceeding to a raw and grandiose production of Evita, I ran into another element of Steampunk in the form of a beer known as 'Steam Whistle', which is a Pilsner that is just generally wonderful, light and wheaty (god I sound like such a snob) without any unpleasant bitterness.

Moving right along, by far the most Victorian place I came across was a 'tea salon' called Harry Ten Shilling, which sells a variety of teas and beautiful English style tea wares. It also has a menu that features fascinating marriages between tea and popular coffee drinks, such as tea lattes, a concept that had never even crossed my mind. I became addicted to one of these lattes, which was referred to as 'London Fog' and created by mixing black tea, milk, and bergamot, mandarin, and carmel syrups. To say I'm in withdrawal from this marvelous drink is a bit of an understatement, though I was at least able to buy a canister of tea (known as Dorian Grey), which I am currently sipping petualantly out of a lovely bone china teacup I purchased at the same time, and, as we all know, everyhing stops for tea.

The habits of the nocturnal

2010-06-13T21:13:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, I have been a creature of the night (insert Rocky Horror reference here). When the sun goes down, I wake up, much to the horror and/or confusion of virtually every person I've had to live around. I drive roommates crazy, annoy my family, and baffle my friends when I call at 3 AM because I'm bored as all hell. None of this, however, has stopped my nocturnal behavior, and I doubt anything ever will. My internal switch was installed in the inverse position, and I am perfectly happy sleeping the day away.

In relation to my nocturnal habits are my night going rambles. Usually these are confined to my rattling around the house, but every now and then the itch gets too much to bear and I drift outdoors, wandering here and there, trying to balance my desire to explore with my desire to not get mugged or annoy the local fauna.

It's fascinating to see what takes place when the sun goes down. Some people's guard goes up, others remain utterly oblivious to their surroundings. Case in point, I spent several hours up a tree while moongazing, and not once was I spotted by the many individuals walking too and fro underneath me. At the same time, however, I have also scared the daylights out of people when I walk out of the black or drop out of said tree. Indeed, I even have a pet theory that I may be somewhat responsible for rumors of my college campus being in possession of its own bigfoot, but that's an extremely long, complicated, and tenuous theory that doesn't bear much thinking about. Regardless, I am most fond of the night in a not-creepy-or-vampire-related way, and in some ways being at home is putting a kink in my wandering plans, as, unlike my college campus which is, to put it bluntly, in the middle of ass-fuck nowhere, my family home is actually around civilization and creeping around in the middle of the night is not an acceptable way to spend one's time around here, since if you don't get sprayed by a skunk or attacked by some creeper the neighbors are likely to see you, freak, and call the cops.

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Also, I'm really excited for season 3 of True Blood. Totally unrelated fact, though.

Photoshoots, cars, and insect life

2010-06-08T19:39:00.000-07:00

I love photography, whether I'm the one taking the pictures or the subject being documented. Thus it is that one of the things I'd like to use to improve this blog is the inclusion of various fashion focused photoshoots to benefit my many viewers. It's a concept that's been rattling around in the back of my head for quite awhile now, and at this point I've begun plotting how I might work it out. Whether it will really take flight, however, isn't really in my hands. I need photographers, models of both genders, and a makeup specialist among others, all of whom will have to be willing to work with only the promise of publicity as payment. I could, admittedly, begin doing these shoots with just myself and one other person, but inevitably others will be needed. I do, however, have some connections I can plumb and favors to phone in, so perhaps this will work. You never do know.

In other news, I have a car. A beautiful red automobile that I have named (since I name all my electronics/machines) the USS Enterprise (A trekkie? Whatever made you think that?). It is absolutely spectacular, comfy, and badass, and comes with some pretty advanced technology, including a communication system I named Uhura (A life? Who needs one of those?).

Finally, a word about bugs. I am not a person who generally freaks out where insects or other invertebrates are concerned. Indeed, I've often found the various creepy crawlies that make other people scream to be fascinating or even cute. The one bug I cannot stand, however, is the house centipede, and, of course, because it is the one thing I cannot stand, it's the one nasty I encounter the most often. Honestly, if you want to freak me out, all you have to do is show me a picture of one of those ugly fuckers. And it does have to be a house centipede, mind you. Amazon centipedes (the huge things with the gigantic mandibles) are not something that particularly freaks me out. But the wiggly, hairy, bath tub invading monstrosity known as scutigera coleoptrata will make me scream and run like nothing else on this earth. And I've had to kill two in the last two weeks. If this keeps up I may just lose my mind.

Museum Shenanigans

2010-06-03T22:34:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm back at the museum. I've waited a whole year for this, and hot damn if it doesn't feel good to be back in my element. Now, for those of you who think museum work is stuffy or technical or just plain boring, allow me to enlighten you as to the reality. Working in a museum (or at least working at my museum) is like an episode of mythbusters on some serious crack. As per example, on my first day all those many months ago, my boss took me into the collections and showed me some of the highlights. The first thing he pulled out? A shrunken head. No I am not kidding. I later found out that there are, in fact, three shrunken heads in our collection, one of which is clearly european, suggesting that somebody's expedition/missionary work/vacation didn't end the way they planned.

At the moment, however, I'm getting down and dirty with a collection of very strange weaponry that looks like someone Frankensteined together Indian (as in the country of India) and Japanese fighting tools with some very messed up results. The brightly colored and ornate style of Indian art and the sleek lines of the Japanese aesthetic do not mesh well, if at all. So it's up to me to figure out what the hell happened with these items and, if possible, return them to constituent parts. I'll also be working on dating the various pieces of a suit of samurai armor that was apparently cobbled together at some point. And in between all of that I'll be filing away donut shaped rocks and mummy hands in glass cases, or even wearing a mask and gloves while transporting taxidermied animals that may or may not have mercury in their fur/feathers.

It's gonna be a hell of a summer.

The World Steam Expo, or 'Is there an elder god right behind me?

2010-06-01T09:05:00.001-07:00

Pics! Pics galore!

First shot, taken while waiting for my friend - who will appear later and who I affectionately refer to as Red - to get through the registration line.

I love my elder god!

Cthulu is either about to eat my soul or commit tentacle rape. Take your pick.

Athena and yours truly

Athena and Steampunk Bobba Fett

Steampunk manly men doing steampunk manly things!

Red trying on a corset

A pretty pair of steampunk lassies

Steampunk pinup!

Harpnotic

A battle of wrenches

You feelin' lucky, punk?

Bartitsu!

The amazing Terrance Zdunich and myself

The bikes of yester-year

The line waiting for Abney Park

Culture Clash

A pic snapped by someone else on the second day while I was still in my first outfit.

The long awaited day is almost upon us

2010-05-27T20:13:00.000-07:00

The Steam Expo begins tomorrow. I'm not sure what to say, beyond that. It's been long in the coming - I've been anticipating the Expo since AUGUST - and finally, all the work, preparation, and saving of money will pay off. Tomorrow I don one of the five outfits I've prepped exclusively for the event and march - Parasol in hand, hat at a jaunty angle - off to amaze and be amazed by my fellow gear-heads. I will try to vlog after each day of this gigantic con, and I intend to take an airship load of pictures. I do have to say, however, that I'm most excited about the masquerade ball, where, when all are hidden behind visages of their choosing, people's true nature - and wild side - tend to come out a little more.

If any of you, dear readers, happen to be at the Expo, just keep an eye out for my hat - you know the one - and feel free to say hello. I don't bite....or at least not enough to leave marks.

Back into the dating pool. Hiyo!

2010-05-22T20:31:00.000-07:00

As my twitter and the title of this post suggests, I have a potential guy on the line. And I'm more than a little nervous about it. I've been gradually climbing back into th skin of the unflappable, invincible woman I used to be, but my train wreck of a last relationship has me biting my nails. Said relationship went belly up when it became abundantly clear that my lover and I, while we made great friends, could not tolerate each other as BF and GF. He and I loved to spar verbally, teasing, debating, and arguing, but once we became a couple the rules changed. I didn't want to stop being able to criticize him, but he expected me to support him all the time. Even when he was flagrantly wrong. This I refused to do, and, as consequence, there were long periods of snapping and sulking and general unpleasantness. Words were exchanged (and now our debate skills, honed with each other's help, became the weapons we turned on each other. Oh, irony, you sick and twisted bitch). The relatonship ended in shambles, and it deffinitely hurt my pride and shook my confidence.

But now Cupid is sidling up to me at the bar of Life, offering me a drink, and I'm not sure whether I should accept it or toss it into a potted plant to see if the leaves whither. I've been forced to play the game of love with my cards held so close to my chest for fear of being hurt or losing that I'm unsure what to do. Of course, however, to continue in my vein of ridiculous, over-used metaphors, it's often easier to get into a pool by diving head first than sliding in inch by painful inch. Heh, now all I need is a 'Confucius say' maxim and this paragraph is completely cliche.

Oh well. It's once more into the breach for me, dear friends. Grab some popcorn and watch the show.

Pitfalls

2010-05-20T00:29:00.001-07:00

Being a steampunk aristocrat is a full time job. As such, it also has a tendency to be difficult to manage and sometimes can run me into the ground, or else I make the mistake of letting something slide once and suddenly all my self-discipline has rolled over and died and I'm left realizing that I've lost sight of what I aim to be.

And that, frankly, drives me more than a little insane.

It is so easy to loosen my grip and say 'that doesn't matter' or, 'why should I bother, there's no one who cares', and slide back into what some people refer to as 'normalcy' and I refer to as 'a stinking hell'. Trying to maintain the constant glittery exterior of an aristocrat may require endless effort, but, as I once told my freshman roomie (also known as the room-mate from the black lagoon) when she asked me why I didn't just try to 'stop being strange and act normal': 'I'd be unbearably miserable without my oddness.' The facade of a well-heeled lady from a sci-fi 1890s may be just that for me, a facade, but to take it off, to confront life bare without the glam and pomp my bustles and parasols afford, would be intolerable. It may drive some people crazy, and it may piss people off - I know it weirded my aforementioned roomie out - but that's who I am. I treasure the manners and the class and the decadence of the aristocrat. I may be only their pale shadow, but it is what I have to offer, and it is the shield I wear against people who have no interest in beauty, elegance, or etiquette. I won't or can't descend to their level, so instead I'll always aim at the highest spot on the ladder, and no matter how many times I fall off, I'll doggedly climb my way back up.

Restablishing Routine and the Importance of Black Coats

2010-05-06T22:20:00.000-07:00

I'm home. After a good but utterly wearying year, I am home. Back to beds with springs, pillows that actually support my neck, and food that's been cooked by means other than dunking it in grease. Already I'm looking better, my skin ceasing to break out like I have some horrible plague, and my hair no longs frizzes so much I have to question whether or not I am, in fact, the bride of Frankenstein's monster. I'll soon be back to looking and acting like my self-imposed title demands, rather than a battered, bitter husk of it. Step one: Tomorrow I repaint my nails. They're currently atrocious, my manicure having worn off a week prior to my return, but my need for study prevented me from clipping, repainting, filing, and generally attending to them as I usually do. And how can I think to call myself an aristocrat with ragged nails and chipped polish? It's just not done! (For those interested, I wear Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's Trading Post nail polish, in the shade 'Destroying Angel'.)

Moving on. Something I came to contemplate towards the end of term was the usefulness of long black coats. My own, a black velveteen greatcoat, has served me well and faithfully without fail since the onset of winter all the way through the schizophrenic weather of April, as it did the year before. Such coats prove their worthiness in that, for a hard-pressed steampunk, they can cover a multitude of sins (literally), permitting one to cut a stylish figure even when the clothes one wears beneath it are less than up to one's preferred standard. I cannot count the numerous early mornings when I threw that coat on over a tshirt and sweatpants and traipsed off to purchase food from the college cafe, secure in my appearance thanks to the elegant bearing of that coat. But wait, there's more! Long coats (color irrelevant) can also double as handy blankets. I have had several occasions where I was either without a blanket or the available blankets were unsuitable for my needs (as was the case a few days ago when the dorm was too damn hot but they wouldn't turn the air on, and all my normal covers were far too hot). Faced with that predicament, I just drew my trusty coat overmyslf and went to sleep.

Finally, I was overjoyed to discover that Terrence Zdunich, the creator of Repo! The Genetic Opera, will be coming to the Steam Expo! I've been longing to review Repo!, but have waffled back and forth on the issue as the movie, being as weird and awesome as it is, is hard to class as overtly steampunk. Now it's creator's presence at the Expo finally gives me an excuse to review it, exact parameters of Steampunk be damned!

PS: While we're talking about things that are sorta steampunk but you have a hard time explaining why, take a look at the fashion sense of this music video. It appears someone has gone and married Tudor fashion with some steampunk elements. And they're offspring is....kinda cool, actually. Just follow the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZL1Rd2YUYyw

Spring cometh and it bringeth Sandman and cotton skirts

2010-04-06T21:18:00.000-07:00

Well I'm post spring break and feeling pretty good about life at the moment. Spring has arrived, and though generally I dislike both spring and summer this time I'm actually eager to see both. The winter has been long, hard, and face-pressed-to-a-belt-sander grueling. The weather was brutal and the sun seemed to shine about once a week, if I was lucky. Now the weather is mild, the flowers are in bloom, trees are budding, and I can shuck off my thick winter hide of heavy black greatcoats, worn corduroys, and battered leather boots in favor of brightly colored skirts, light jackets, and sandals/clogs. I'm particularly happy about the skirts, as I haven't worn one in ages. They just aren't suitable for winter, what with vicious updrafts freezing my legs and bitter winds whipping the hem around my ankles to trip me up.

The spring has also brought with it a new obsession for me: Neil Gaiman's Sandman. I'd been meaning to read it since time immemorial, but only now have I had an excuse to do so, as I'm in a course on comic books and the first four books of Sandman are part of our syllabus. I read the first one, got hooked, and have proceeded to buy two more, namely A Game of You and Fables and Reflections. I've even gone so far as to develop a little bit of a crush on Morpheus, pathetic though that may be. And in the 'something trying to tell me somebody' tradition, I also recently ran across a brass ankh necklace in one of the many dusty little shops I frequent. Y'know the kind, where you quietly think they've got a mummy in the back room and a shoggoth under the sink. Anyway, I bought the necklace, am wearing it as I type, and feel a strong compulsion to screw around with my eyemakeup to see if the 'wadjet eye' look suits me.

In more steampunk news, I'm now registered for the Steam Expo, and you can expect to see me there. Just look for the aristocrat in the leather hat with the ridiculous feather plumage. Indeed, I'll most likely be too ostentatiously dressed for you to miss. So is anyone else going? Tell me in the comments!

And back on the Sandman topic, take a look at this creepy little short film: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjgHbRrnjhU

All aboard train rant, bitch, and moan!

2010-02-25T13:08:00.001-08:00

My final hell Monday has come and gone. For those who have been keeping tabs on my Twitter or my life in general, you know that I've been half mad with work for weeks now. It's the prime reason I have't been able to make more prompt reviews. But we've come to the end of it all. THANK GOD. The prime reason for my anguish was a four hour long scuba-diving class that, in no uncertain terms, ate my life. Every Monday revolved around a scramble to study and finish all my work before trudging - usually through heavy snow - into the bowels of a bubbling, respirator-filled hell that smelled of chlorine and damp locker-rooms. The misery of wetsuits that didn't fit right, combined with the irritation of someone who avoids all non-martial physical activities like the plague (if it doesn't involve one-on-one combat, I usually hate it. And don't get me started on team sports), and the physical discomfort of having to tote a heavy metal tank on my back or having my ears refuse to equalize, meant that these last few Mondays were the definition of vile. That, however, is all behind me now.

But, of course, when one problem vacates its chair, another takes its place. In this case, the irritant arose out of an article in my college’s newspaper. It discussed dating outside the scope of our school, and basically implied that such is the moral superiority of those who attend that they don’t even want to consider getting involved with someone who didn’t go here. The article’s smug, self-satisfied, and condescending tone nearly sent blood boiling out of my tear ducts. College is important, but there is SO MUCH MORE to life. What about grad school? What about, I dunno, LIFE. My college is not a bleedin’ plane crash that effects people so deeply that they can’t marry anyone who’s never had the experience, and those who think it is are in desperate need of a colonoscopy to locate their heads. Honestly, our brains haven’t even finished maturing at this point in life, yet these blockheads think that it’s here and only here that they will meet the person that they will spend THE REST OF THEIR LIFE WITH. No exploring the world, no looking hard and long for a mate who is your true other self. Just marry here and get with the breeding. Ugh. The logic, I do not see any.

Blah. Why do relationships or lack thereof always manage to weasel their way into my posts?

I’m writing again, in other news, working on several projects simultaneously and as they interest me. This, of course, usually leads to one or more of the works dying unfinished, much like twins or triplets fighting for nourishment and space. But such is life. I also am listening to Stephen King’s Dark Tower series (yay for audiobooks) and am considering reviewing it/them when I’m done. So don’t hold your breath – this will take awhile. In the meantime I should have the new review up by next week.

Feeling My Faustian Oats

2010-02-11T10:11:00.000-08:00

Settling into my maddening routine becomes easier and easier, though doing so has me in a bit of a swivet. As per example, my insomnia has flared up, leaving me staring at the ceiling at 3 AM and wishing that I could simply find my hard reset button and power down for the night. That aside, however, things are going well, and insofar as I don't drop dead of exhaustion things should continue to be good.

More interestingly, I feel fully returned to my old self. Lacking the interference of a significant other I function so much better. In the constant search for a romantic companion I became blind to the fact that at this point in my life the search is essentially useless and, as a general rule, will cause more problems than it solves. It is not that I would be averse to having a relationship if the right man came along, but he's not here, and I'd much rather savor my time alone than waste effort in futile romances based around desperation and loneliness rather than attraction and self respect.

On the Steampunk front, I'm soon going to be registering for the Steampunk Expo. I've been waiting anxiously for this event since August, and it's crawling nearer by the day. This will be the first Con I have ever been too, (you can bet I'll vlog about it) barring a rock and mineral convention that I went to when I was a great deal younger and only was there for the shopping. Related to this is the fact that I will soon get a chance to witness a performance of the opera Faust, which I've been dying to see since I was 15. Goethe's Faust is one of my favorite books of all time (I need to re-read it), and the legend itself has fascinated me since I was a child and saw Wishbone reenact it (who else remembers that show?).
Here's the link to the Steampunk Expo, by the way: http://www.worldsteamexpo.com/

Safe flying, airship pilots!

Things that entertain me

2010-02-04T12:21:00.001-08:00

Well I'm back on the review making horse, but even so I'm still extremely overworked, so rather than whinge on and on about how I have a headache the size of Mt. Vesuvius, I'll instead share some of the interesting videos I've run across recently.

http://www.whokilledbambi.co.uk/2010/01/hydra/ This bizarrely entertaining little video is an absolute must see. I first ran across it via the blog of K. J. Bishop, and it's so damned amusing I just can't watch it enough. If you visit none of my other links, at least visit this one. I guarantee it will intrigue you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCqGtvTA36k v=cCqGtvTA36k If that isn't a steampunk clock, I don't know what is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOHJUrcVdJk Li'l Cthulhu. 'Nuff said.

https://twitter.com/AristocratV I also have a Twitter, now, so you may get one sentence updates on how your favorite reviewer/aristocrat is doing on any given day that I remember that I have the damn thing.

Overworked, overwrought, overcaffienated

2010-01-31T17:40:00.000-08:00

As some of you have no doubt noticed, things have been DAMN QUIET for a long while. Nearly two months have gone by without a post, and nearly a month has gone by without a review. I'm terribly sorry about the abrupt slowdown, but know that I am busily getting back into the saddle and back to my position of steampunk and aristocrat. Life has been a rare shade of hell recently, and trying to combat that has left me in a state of near apoplectic frenzy. I also have an obscene amount of work on Mondays, thus meaning that I get back to my dorm and have a chance to rest in the wee hours of the night, and as such I'm going to switch my posting date for reviews to Thursday, since there is NO WAY IN HELL that I can actually get anything done on Mondays.

Emotionally things have been a bit of a pit as well. The relationship I had came to an abrupt and dissatisfying end for all involved, and at the moment I'm too bogged down with studying and commitments to even think of persuing another romantic liasion. I am also pretty damned SICK of the men I'm around, and know full well that any dalliance with them would leave me even more jaded and pissy than I already am. Better to conserve my emotions and energies in that feild for now, put them on ice, and focus on work. Of course by saying this I guarantee that Mr. Right (or at least Mr. Right Now) will drop out of the sky on my head and prove a massive disstraction, but dammit, I don't care.

Nothing of explicitly steampunk interest has gone down recently, though I am closing on my first hundred subscribers, something I never dared dream of at the beginning of all this. I thank all who have subscribed, and I promise to provide you with more steampunk entertainment in the days to come.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

See Victoria run. See Victoria slip, fall, and skid down the ice like it's January in Falias.

2009-12-11T12:59:00.000-08:00

Winter's finally here, and, frankly, I'm not sure what I think of that. I like the cold. I enjoy the fact that it let's me wear my long coats and heavier outfits without perspiring or expiring from heatstroke. The issue with the winter where I currently reside is a (bad) habit of the climate, which is to snow several times preceding the onset of true winter, each time ending with the snow melting. Then the temperature drops like a newborn elephant, meaning all the water floating around on the surface freezes into a thin layer of the most vicious ice you will ever come across. It's slick as hell, often has sharp edges, is blackened from soil and ashphalt, and enjoys (if ice can experience pleasure) lying in wait for passersby, (like myself) who are in a hurry because it's bloody freezing outside, to send us sprawling. It's practically in one's best interest to wear crampons, and during this period there's usually an upswing of people heading to Health Services with bloody noses, cracked skulls, and other 'sneaky bastard ice' related injuries. As suggested before, I've fallen over several times, as I'm still getting my 'ice legs' back, but I've experienced no major trauma other than bruised pride.

In other news, the 'big buy' was decided on - the black bustle coat - purchased, and has arrived. It's quite gorgeous, and I've already recieved several compliments, the most charming being from a girl I don't even know who described the coat as 'frill-tacular'. I'm eager to wear it upon my return home, especially in conjunction with my favorite hat. Said return home weighs heavily on my mind these days. I catch myself day-dreaming of my mom's cooking and the delights of a bed with full box springs. I'll be seeing my three best friends as well, and we have plans to shop, dine, and promenade all over the place. I also intend to stuff myself like last month's turkey on all the edible delights I miss while at school, including such things as gumbo, sushi, and as much Lebanese food as I can feasibly digest.

Before I go home, however, I have to negotiate the landmine of Finals Week. I thankfully get the two worst ones out of my way in one fell swoop, so at least that's an upshot.

I'm also glad that everyone liked the vlog - I will probably be doing more in future, especially when I find myself strapped for time.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

The pear of anguish, impalement, and crappy shopping

2009-11-19T08:19:00.000-08:00

So after a crazy, crazy weekend I come once more to my blog. Things move apace, my readers, what with my prepping for the Emilie Autumn concert (note the banner at the bottom of the blog), and making plans for my 'big buy'. The big buy is a piece of clothing that I purchase before the yuletide season and which makes me the star attraction at any event I go to. What this year's will be is still up in the air, though I'm very tempted by a red corset, a bustle jacket, and a short kimono dress. The pics below feature the three of them.

That aside, I also recently saw the Mother of Tears, a film by Dario Argento that completes his 'Three Mothers' cycle, which is a series of movies that feature three powerful and evil witches who are defeated, one after the other. I saw Suspiria - the first of the three - at a showing by my college's film club, and absolutely loved it. Now this isn't, admittedly, a steampunk movie in any way shape, or form, but it was a super creepy and violent romp (involving someone falling into a room full of razor wire and forever putting Saw to shame,) and given that I am a huge horror movie buff I was eager to see The Mother of Tears, which came out much more recently. So after chugging around on the internet for awhile I was able view it, and all I have to say is this: HOLY SHIT. There's alot of stupid in the movie, including some really atrocious dialogue, and more than a couple of gaping plotholes or obvious 'don't go in there!' type scares, but the big thing that made the movie absolutely bizarre to watch is the death scenes. As a history nerd and would-be museum curator, I have a fairly extensive knowledge of mediaeval torture devices, and this film features at least two EXTREMELY OBSCURE ones. I won't go into the nitty gritty about it, but know that it was as if someone had turned Dario Argento loose in the Spanish Inquisition (which no one expects) and said 'take whatever you want.'

Still looking for that steampunk lamp. Lots of good candidates are arraying themselves before me, and the question now arises as to whether or not it will sit on the desk or hang from the ceiling.

And finally, to revert to the mention of my weekend, I have a sort of 'mini-review' to share. Once I'd stabilized and wasn't reeling every time I stood up, my roommate and I packed ourselves into her car and drove to Ann Arbor, with the intent of getting her some period looking clothes for the concert. I'd done some online research and been informed that there was a shop called 'Adorn Me' that dealt in alot of lacy shirts and velvet coats, so I figured it was our best option. No sooner had we entered the shop, however, than I was proved deeply and egregiously wrong. The store was like a million boutiques across the US, featuring ugly hobo purses in technicolor leather with gilded chains, chunky plastic bracelets being sold for twice their actual worth (if not more), slouchy shirts that sag in all the wrong places, and enormous sunglasses that give one the appearance of being either a fighter pilot or a bug. Take your pick. I was thoroughly peeved, and my roommate and I beat a hasty retreat while trying not to make excessive faces or - in my case - dry heave from the highly chemical odor that permeated the whole place. So if you're ever in Ann Arbor, dear readers with any sense of taste, steer clear of Adorn Me.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

The aristocrat plans for a concert

2009-11-12T08:24:00.000-08:00

So now it's time for some actual writing, after last week's photo only post.

My biggest steampunk-related (or semi steampunk) interest these days is the fact that I will be going to the Emilie Autumn concert on December 6th, and it is my fervent desire to dress myself to the aristocratic nines for the occasion. This will be my first concert, interestingly enough, in that my childhood was spent primarily cloistered away from the world in an all girl's Catholic school where it was in my best interest to remain as reclusive as possible, so as to avoid the attention of the bigger fish in the pond, i.e. the blonde and gucci-clad girls who held in their hands the power to ruin one's life. It is rather strange, now that I think about it, that they held so much sway in highschool, but now that I am in college I see their kind every day and they have no power over me.

I am also on the prowl for a steampunk lamp. It's my intention to turn my room at my family's cottage into the lair of a gear-head naturalist, with steampunk gadgets, lithographs of plants, and shadowboxed bugs on the walls. I have several very nice candidates from Etsy, but I'm going to wait before I jump on any specific one. And while I'm on the subject, I've managed to get my roomie addicted to Etsy. Ah Etsy, the gift that keeps on giving.

Still no real improvement in the boyfriend arena. I've got my hooks dangling and baited in the water, but they've only had sporadic nibbling, and the one fish I'm most interested to hook worries me, as I'm not sure whether I'd be landing a prize bass or a hammerhead shark. I guess we'll just have to see, won't we readers?

And as I've said before, please feel free to give me suggestions for things to review either by email or in the comments. I'm always happy to oblige.

Safe flying, airship pirates!

Halloween: Costumes, pumpkins, ghosts, and hangovers.

2009-11-05T11:59:00.000-08:00

Well Halloween was wild, and the ensuing week exhausting. So instead of a cohesive post, I present pics of myself in full costume.

There is no epidural for the birth of a book

2009-10-22T08:21:00.000-07:00

My novel is officially two chapters long now, and by the very fact that the first chapter is complete the book’s chances of survival are hugely increased. It’s a sad but true fact in my case that dozens of story ideas that I have never make it onto a page. I lose interest, the idea doesn’t pan out, something better comes along, and the previous concept gets reabsorbed into my mind. The loss is always disheartening, but this time it looks like the culmination of dozens of scrapped ideas have formed into a new and hardier specimen, one that I can write without feeling put upon or dissatisfied. Here are some samples of said novel, just to pique your interest:
“Listen, Gabriel, I don’t know what the hell is going on but I do know that the man who raised me has been murdered and the last things he was able to pass on to me were a book full of cryptic writing, a necklace that I know I’ve seen even if I have no overt memory of it, and a note telling me to run for my life. So pardon me if I’m a little hysterical.”

“We have a murderer in London who’s clearly out of his mind and threatening to do harm to others, assassination attempts on her Majesty, and all manner of petty crime and theft besides, but we’re supposed to drop everything to investigate the death of some French artist’s model?”

“Mother, the man who tried to kill me had a picture of your necklace in his pocket. I have to know what all this is about.”
“Oh god, I’d hoped to spare you this,” Ramses’ mother turned away from him, hugging herself as though she was cold in the blazing Egyptian sun, “I’d hoped your French blood would thin out the curse that runs in our family.”

In the meantime I’m working out my Halloween plans. My costume is all lined up – I’m going as a kitsune, a Japanese fox spirit – and am only waiting on the mask. I also recently purchased some sock garters decorated with gears from the online shop known as Sock Dreams, which will get a critique once I get some time to do shops as well as media in my reviews. I’m also trying to think up a way to do a Steampunk jack o’ lantern, though I’ll probably just copy the face of the pumpkin scarecrow in Sleepy Hollow, like I do every year, and searching for Halloween parties to gatecrash and/or have a grand time at.
And on a final note I’m currently on the lookout for a boyfriend, in that I’m officially sick of being single. I’m not going to talk about my candidates here, as god knows who reads this blog *shifty eyes* but rest assured they exist and you may get updates on the Steampunk Aristocrat’s attempts to find love.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

I know I’m back in college when I wake up with strange books all over my bed and haven’t a clue how they got there.

2009-10-15T15:55:00.000-07:00

Wow. What else is there to say, really? Over the last week I have gained over twenty new subscribers to my youtube channel and four new watchers on my blog. I’m not really sure what to say about it, though grateful and honored don’t begin to describe my feelings. I started making these videos practically on a whim, and I am so unbelievably happy that they’re well liked. I’m also curious as to where the sudden windfall of attention has come from. It seemed like overnight people were beating down my youtube door, and though I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth I’m still curious as to the ‘source point’ of all this attention. Or, perhaps, there isn’t one, and my sudden deluge of subscribers is a standalone complex to rival anything Ghost in the Shell has ever had to deal with.

Now to jump to an unrelated topic, Etsy Vs. Artfire. This is a nasty, prickly issue that has popped up in my life more and more recently, mostly because I’m an Etsy addict. The argument I’ve heard thus far is that Artfire is more independently minded and just generally better. I, however, still favor Etsy for several reason: most prominent, I find that the aesthetic design of Etsy is superior. It’s simple white background and lack of clutter is less distracting than the colorful and image heavy front page of Artfire. After that point I don’t see any particular level of superiority vs. inferiority. If I wanted to sell via one or the other, perhaps I would have stronger feelings. But I’m not a seller, I’m a buyer and a critic of shops from the patron end of things. I can also say that I tend to trust Etsy more because it’s been around longer, a classic symptom of my tried-and-true loving Capricorn nature. If Artfire manages to make a bigger name for itself as a good seller and not just a champion of the under-fed artist I’ll take more note of it.

And on a final note, I still have no freshman shadow, which is just fine by me. I’m busy enough with my awesome roommate. Our relationship is something on par with Holmes and Watson. I’m the Holmes, quiet, antisocial, busy with my computer the way the famous detective was busy with his chemistry set. My roomie, on the other hand, is a far more friendly being, selfless to a fault, willing to help people regardless of time or trouble, a perfect double of Watson, albeit a version of Watson that has two X chromosomes. I’d say we make a good team, and we are certainly a superior one to that which I had the year before, in which my roommate considered my fantasy magazines and novels to be evil. More on that in later entries.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

Chaos and Cards

2009-10-01T22:13:00.000-07:00

Well with my new review posted and my next review in the works, something has occurred to me. When I first posted Episode 8 the credits music was Depeche Mode’s well known song, ‘Personal Jesus’. No sooner had I uploaded the video, however, than youtube muted the entire thing because I had used that song and apparently I didn’t have the right to. I was then forced to take it down, change the music to E Nomine’s ‘Mondengel’, and reupload. This whole affair was a phenomenal pain in the ass, and I have thereby come to the conclusion that, simply put, I need some theme music of my own, since I do not ever want to have to fidget constantly with the video, checking and rechecking that it hasn’t been muted.

Now I don’t know how many people read my blog regularly, but I’m going to post this here and on my youtube channel: I’m holding a contest to see who can make me the best theme music. It can be any style, with lyrics or without, I’m not picky. The one I like will become my official theme music and play over the endings and possibly the opener (which I’m considering adding) of all my episodes, with credit given to the composer in the credits. It’s that simple.

All this aside, not all that much has been happening this week. My most exciting prospects will occur this Saturday, when I learn to play whist for the first time. I’m a lover of card games of all kinds, though I’m severely out of practice, with my favorite games being Texas Hold ‘Em, Five Card Stud, BS, and Black Jack respectively. I would, however, like to learn some older, more upper crust card games, particularly ones that would have been played during the Victorian era, and whist seems like a good place to start. As a child I was also taught rummy, and I will hopefully renew my ability to play that as well.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

Epic wins and fails

2009-09-24T08:36:00.000-07:00

I’m sad to say, dear readers, that this upcoming week’s review will not be about 9, now. This weekend I’m going to be occupied going to a production of The Phantom of the Opera, and I won’t have time to get to a movie theater. I will instead be reviewing the book Whitechapel Gods, and this review will be unique in that it is the first time I will ever be reviewing something I really hate, as opposed to any of my other episodes which were generally positive or at least balanced the negativity, as in my double jeopardy episode. I won’t spoil the surprise for you, but rest assured that Whitechapel Gods is going to get shredded.

And while I’m on the topic of reviews, allow me to say how happy I am that my Atlantis review has 91 views and counting! It’s racking up views extremely quickly, and on examination of the stats I’ve realized that this is due to the immensely helpful Dr. Fabre, who picked up on me when I first began making reviews and posts them on his blog, The Voyages of Dr. Fabre. So I’d like to give a little shout out to him and thank him for posting my videos! :D

On an equally positive note I’ve finally gotten confirmation that my BPAL (Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs) order has shipped, and the timing couldn’t be better, since I begin my Hellboy reviews in October and one of the perfumes I purchased is from BPAL’s new Hellboy line of perfumes. To be more specific, I purchased the Kroenen scent, as I’ve always been a bit of a fan of that gas-mask wearing lunatic.

I also urge any and all of my readers to send me suggestions for things to review. I can’t guarantee when I’ll get to each and every request, but rest assured that they will get used eventually. As mentioned, my email is countesscrow@gmail.com, so go right ahead and email me some ideas, or else leave me comments for the same reason. I promise not to bite, though I can’t say the same for some of the Lovecraftian monsters that populate my place.

And speaking of Lovecraft, I’m happy to say that I’m soon to begin writing a Steampunk novel that has a lot of tentacles and things that come out of the sea in it. Does it feature Cthulhu? No. Does it feature octopus men? You bet it does. I may post bits of it here as time goes by, hopefully for your delectation and delight (mmm….calamari.)

No news on whom I’ve been saddled with as far as a freshman, and as time has gone by I’ve begun to allow myself the luxury of hope in the case. She might turn out to be a budding mad scientist who I can lead down the gear and oil path of Steampunk. She might just be an awesome nerdy type who, even if she is not Steampunk, can appreciate my weirdness. I’m just trying to look on the bright side, right now. *Cues up Monty Python’s ‘Always Look On the Bright Side’*

Safe flying, airship pilots!

This is the sort of thing that makes me want to put on a gas mask and never breath the same air as other people ever again.

2009-09-17T18:11:00.000-07:00

Well DAMN. I should have seen this sort of thing coming. Mercury goes into retrograde and everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Two of my friend’s cars have broken down, the internet keeps going on the fritz, my comments box refuse to work (has anyone else had this problem? Email me if so), and I get sick. Bloody fantastic. The illness is by far the worst aspect of things. It’s not the H1N1 by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s a vile sinus infection that drains down my throat and makes me cough and hack like every other tragic heroine of Victorian literature. Breathing feels like sucking water. So I go on an antibiotic to deal with the bacteria that are picking out curtains in my nose and, of course, the antibiotic gives me stomach problems. Just lovely. So I’ve now gone off the antibiotic and am fervently praying that the bacteria don’t start looking at wallpaper.

On a more positive note, however, those pants I posted a picture of in my previous post arrived, along with a bunch of other items I ordered. I was all but deluged with packages. I would also like to thank the young man who was on staff in the mail room at the time, since he just gave me the packages, as opposed to forcing me to wait till they stuck a paper slip in my mailbox to tell me my things had arrived. Now I personally have no problem with the latter method, except for the fact that our college mailroom is not the quickest getting those slips written out. So even if, say, you KNOW that the package is there via tracking numbers some of the bitchier mail room employees (and for some reason it always seems to be the female clerks who do it,) like to refuse to give you your things. Even if you can SEE it, as has been the case on a couple of occasions.

And to continue on the package note, I’ve reentered the hell of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s ridiculous waiting period. I should have known it would be a problem, but I went and did it anyway. Hope springs eternal, after all. But today I find out that they haven’t even shipped stuff that was ordered before MY order, which was two weeks ago. Good grief, BPAL, what on earth happened during that period? Did all your perfume makers go on strike or just sit in the corner rocking back and forth for a month? *headdesk* But I try to endure, since one of the perfumes I ordered seems likely to become a new favorite in ensuing days. The perfume is called

Ozymandias and it smells so unbearably good (like patchouli and sandalwood incense overlaid with something slightly floral) that after I put it on some that I was sent as a sample I walked around for the rest of the day with my nose all but glued to my wrist.

I have a new video up, for those who didn’t know, and I’m really impressed by the fact that it has gotten 48 views in two days – almost as many as the one I posted two weeks ago. I guess my popularity is on the upswing. I’d also like to alert my readers of the fact that the next video is only going to be about the movie 9, since I can find NO THEATER that has Dorian Gray as one of its films. If anyone actually knows of a place where it’s playing, please, for the love of god, let me in on the secret location!

You may have also realized that this post is early. I normally don’t blog the same week that I make a review, but I think I may start blogging every week more or less. Just keep checking back on Thursdays.

And on a final note, come October I’m going to do a series of reviews focusing on the Hellboy comics, movies, videogames, and anywhere else that big red monkey has managed to turn up. So if you, my readers, know of any other Hellboy related subjects besides the ones mentioned, send me an email and I’ll see if I can do a review on it.

Safe flying, airship pirates!

Of Hats and Britches

2009-09-10T08:03:00.000-07:00

….well it seems I have, as usual, been over-excited about my return to college. Not that it isn’t a good thing, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the second and I’m already bored out of my mind. Now some of you readers are probably wondering why the Steampunk Aristocrat doesn’t get off her ass and do something, and here’s my reply: It’s too bloody hot! Oh yes, summer heat is a killer, as per usual, so I have spent this day alternately sprawled in bed with nothing on or else contemplating how much food I would have to displace and how many bones I would have to break so I could fit myself into the fridge. But for now all I can hope for is that the weather goes abruptly polar and I can actually go back to wearing my typical three layers of clothing without fear of heatstroke.

In other news, however, I’d like to introduce you all to my hat – yes, my hat, you read that right, your processor is not failing you. That picture below is said hat,

and it is the crown jewel of my hat collection, a collection I’d begun years before I became a Steampunk. Said collection also includes a tricorn hat, a floppy purple corduroy

hat purchased in Stratford, Canada from the awesome and now defunct shop Elizagoth, the headdress of a Balinese dancer, a black felt hat that looks like the bastard offspring of a topper and a bowler, a mini-top hat made of black satin, and two full top hats, one made of blue velvet with black satin stripes and the other constructed of brown canvas so as to look like a pith helmet. But none of them hold a candle to this beauty, my de facto ‘sweet hat’, a hat that may appear in other important pictures later on and therefore a hat you should know. It is constructed of black leather (it smells terrific), with a golden buckle bolted to the front, a couple of useless but pretty magnifying lenses attached to the brim, and, of course, the gorgeous spray of feathers pinned to the hat band. I also have a dark green ribbon cockade that I pin on in place of the plumes when a less ostentatious look is called for.

In other news I’m apparently going to be made to mentor a freshman in my dorm. Of this I’m less than pleased, as probability states that she’s not going to want anything to do with yours truly, and I, quite frankly, want nothing to do with her. What is it about dorm life that dictates that everyone become buddy-buddy with everyone else? When I was a fresh(wo)man I just wanted to be left alone to study in peace. *bangs head on table* But then that’s my inner mad scientist talking, who’s an antisocial bastard.

I’m also assembling a rather frilly ‘Steampunk travelling outfit’ for myself. I currently have just the boots and blouse (brown leather boots with buttons up the side and a loose blouse with lots of frothy lace), but I have pants on order (see picture below).

Now I’m just looking for a high waisted brown leather jacket. If anyone can advise me of where to find such a thing, I would be most thankful. If you want a more detailed idea of what I’m looking for, my general mental design is similar to that of Jareth’s from Labyrinth, but sans the pauldrons.

If you’d like to contact me, my email is countesscrow@gmail.com. Feel free to drop me a line about any such leather jacket, or if you have questions or advice for me, or just for the hell of it.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

pry-bars monkey wrench from the gears

2009-08-25T18:12:00.000-07:00

Well, dear readers, it’s been awhile, yes? Life conspired to keep me away from my reviews and my blog for over a month and bloody well almost succeeded, dammit. I’d like to beg the forgiveness of all my readers and such for lack of updates – it was rather inexcusably rude of me. I shall return to making the reviews by next week.

Now, if you’ve found it in your hearts to forgive me, a post on my own attempts at becoming fully Steampunk.

The process itself has been rather rocky, as one might have guessed from my dour second posting. When one is born in a family that values practicality over beauty one often finds very little support or sympathy when one has a hard time getting into a car because they’re in a corset. And as one might further guess from that sentence, a lot of my transformation lies in my wardrobe. I possess a bevy of Steampunk clothes garnered from dozens of different shops or else made by myself (to be specific I’ve made most of my corsets). I attempt to wear said clothes as often as I feasibly can, though I’m often unable to due either to physical impossibility (top hats also don’t fit in cars) or the demands of life. My return to college, however, will see an upswing in my flouncing around in lace bloomer (and sometimes only lace bloomers, *suggestive laugh*) and bustles.

An easier area of alteration is my jewelry, and I sport an enormous leather cuff bracelet on my left wrist from dawn till dusk unless something like water makes me remove it. Said cuff features a large skeleton watch and a bevy of gears cut from brass. I also have bobby pins decorated in gears, gear earrings, and so forth. These I am usually able to wear often – sometimes every day for weeks on end – due to the fact that jewelry is easier to get on than the elaborate clothes I favor. Keep this in mind, my steampunk paduans: Oftentimes it is the clothes that will prove the most problematic. It takes force of will to get up, squeeze into a corset, button the bodice of your tea dress, grab a parasol, and then manage to make breakfast and go about your day.

We move from here to the gadgets and the accessories. From top hats to walking sticks I wear and use a bevy of strange implements. Some are easy to fit into day to day life, such as calligraphy pens, which allowed me to fix my previously atrocious hand writing. Others, such as the aforementioned walking stick, get me exceedingly weird looks and are difficult to carry with any level of ease.

And finally there is the literature, movies, and music, both old and new, that I absorb nonstop. It's the fuel that fires my love of being a Steampunk and gives me the aforementioned wherewithal to dress and act the part, making that world of gears and gunmetal come to life.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

Trial by Hand, Head, and Heart

2009-06-25T21:31:00.000-07:00

A cookie to whoever gets the reference in the title.

Well, as a lovely way to start this blog, here’s a post about the pitfalls on the glittering trail to becoming a Steampunk.

The fact is that there are a lot of things one may or may not consider when one first gets into the subculture. There are many difficulties to be navigated, but most can be solved with a trio of attributes. Simply put, one must possess these three things: One should have skills in crafting items with your hands, some spare money, and self confidence. You won’t go anywhere without them.

The first thing I will handle is the beginning pair, and their import is obvious: to decorate one’s life with the trappings of the late nineteenth century, one is going to require either considerable skill with their hands, or else one must have a large amount of money kicking about so they can purchase the items elsewhere. The former of the two is ultimately the more favorable, since Steampunks as a rule laud handcrafted things and most of the finest items one will find, such as Steampunk-ed laptops or personally fitted corsets, are manually assembled. Thus it is that being able to craft at least some of one’s Steampunk clothing and equipment is very helpful.

At the same time, however, money will inevitably be a necessity, since not everyone will be able to make everything. I’m a fairly expert seamstress and specialize in corsetry, so I have a leg up in the clothing department, but I have no skills with electronics or metal-work, so I’m naturally going to have to shell out some cash if I want, say, a Steampunk lamp.

And finally one must possess the self confidence to act the part. I often get ‘stage fright’ when I go out in full Victorian dress, and this can be exacerbated when I’m at college where, while many of the men dress however they please, there are few women who dress in any unique or eccentric way. It’s hard to force myself through the door sometimes, but inevitably I put on my big girl bloomers and march out anyway. The reason I do it, I remind myself, is that this is what I really love. This is who I want to be. To hell with fitting in and all that it entails. So I hold my head and my parasol high and keep right on walking.

Being a Steampunk is a wonderful thing. Don’t get me wrong. But knowing the difficulties one will face before one enters the fray is always a good strategy. And everyone is different. Some will find that the confidence that often eludes me will come naturally to them, and others may be able to make anything that they put their mind to. It’s all a mix, and that’s one of the wonderful things about Steampunk: you can make what you will of it.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

Introductions All Around!

2009-06-10T21:29:00.000-07:00

I am Victoria, steampunk aristocrat and creator of Steampunk Reviews (look the videos up on youtube). I opted to create this little blog to give those who are interested a further look into the machinations of a woman who has made it her goal to incorporate the steampunk aesthetic into her lifestyle in whatever way possible.

So a little background, yes? I've always been a history geek, and I've always felt out of place in this time period. Perhaps as a side-effect of being named Victoria, I was drawn to the era bearing that moniker, and as I got older and went through my many (and varied) phases, I constantly returned to the class act that is the late nineteenth century. Eventually I ran across steampunk and realized that this was what I really wanted - this world of brass, geissler tubes, roaring steam engines, and zepplin flying pirates. And so I am absorbing steampunk into my life, bit by piece.

I hope to use this blog to document the full metamorphosis from oddball young woman to full blown corset wearing steampunk aristocrat, and I hope that any budding steampunks who read my blog will learn from my pitfalls and have an easier time of fully incorporating steampunk style into their lives.

That's all for now. I will update this blog every week on Thursday, or (more likely) every other week on Thursday.

Safe flying, airship pilots!

Brass and Brown Leather: The Steampunk Aristocrat

Dorian Gray Corner 2: How to avoid being gauche

A Bevy of Steampunk Beverages

When a film fan becomes a film fail

Steampunk Reviews: Episode 27

The Great Purse Dilemma

World Steam Expo 2011

Steampunk Reviews: Episode 26

Dorian Gray Corner 1: Designing an outfit

Branching out

Peacock Queen Reborn

The Etch-e-sketch of the Elder Gods

Current interests, part 2

Etiquette: You are not exempt from it.

Dress has always been my strongest suit

Current interests, part 1

Breakups, Switzerland, and a whopping case of drama

Snow Madness

In which I am deported back to Miskatonic

Proper bedside manner for dealing with an aristocrat

Bracing for winter

Night of the Living Dead Aristocrat

Today's forecast: Fair travel, foul weather, crops-blightingly-bad temper

Books, bugs, and mysteries

CLUNK. THUNK. BANG. WHACK.

Star Trek: Tik Tok

Life at Miskatonic

Feeding the tea addiction

I'm more hothouse orchid than hardy highland rose.

Ways to tell if your house has been infested with steampunks, Part 1

Dammit life!

Steampunk Stratford

The habits of the nocturnal

Photoshoots, cars, and insect life

Museum Shenanigans

The World Steam Expo, or 'Is there an elder god right behind me?

The long awaited day is almost upon us

Back into the dating pool. Hiyo!

Pitfalls

Restablishing Routine and the Importance of Black Coats

Spring cometh and it bringeth Sandman and cotton skirts

All aboard train rant, bitch, and moan!

Feeling My Faustian Oats

Things that entertain me

Overworked, overwrought, overcaffienated

See Victoria run. See Victoria slip, fall, and skid down the ice like it's January in Falias.

The pear of anguish, impalement, and crappy shopping

The aristocrat plans for a concert

Halloween: Costumes, pumpkins, ghosts, and hangovers.

There is no epidural for the birth of a book

I know I’m back in college when I wake up with strange books all over my bed and haven’t a clue how they got there.

Chaos and Cards

Epic wins and fails

This is the sort of thing that makes me want to put on a gas mask and never breath the same air as other people ever again.

Of Hats and Britches

*pry-bars monkey wrench from the gears*

Trial by Hand, Head, and Heart

Introductions All Around!

pry-bars monkey wrench from the gears