Latest Posts by gothphrodite - Page 6
the dude who invented the rule about holding hands during a seance after noticing he’s sitting next to the guy he likes: oh haven’t you heard?
Kindergarten crossing
Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.
Joan Didion (via mythologyofblue)
sometimes I think about the sculptors hands that moulded and formed the statues and then I touch the cold stone and I feel our hands meet through time and space
“Sometimes, even with a film I really love, I cannot tell the story precisely. Sometimes I cannot even tell what happened chronologically. But I’ll have flashes of some things. Sometimes it looks almost like a still. What I know, what I can remember is the emotion I felt. I know I loved a film because I remember feeling good in the film or feeling odd when I came out, either in tears or touched or mad.”
— Agnès Varda, from an interview with Melissa Anderson, 2001 (via filmografie)
small things to add to a hand written letter:
a teabag of your favourite tea
heart shaped note with cute drawings
stickers on the outside of the letter, and inside
handmade paper doll
small print or postcard
a sketch or a little painting or a poem
glitter or sequins or pearls or buttons
small candies or bubblegum
cut out magazine pictures or articles
folded paper, like origami
textile like small ribbons or clothing patches
coins or flat things found in a souvenir shop
pressed flower or leaf
“Does anything in nature despair except man? An animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is all closed in, to a kind of still, intense waiting. Is this a key? Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”
— May Sarton. “Journal of a Solitude: The Journals of Mary Sarton”.
Il bagno nel bosco (The bathroom in the woods) by Augusto Corelli (Italian painter, 1853-1918)
you’re allowed to get up one day and just decide to change who you are. dress differently, speak up more, laugh out loud even though you’ve never liked your laugh, say what you want to, say hey to people you wouldn’t normally, get that confidence going. we don’t have to stay the way people see us out of the fear that they won’t like the us we want to be.
Psyche Opening the Door into Cupid’s Garden 1904
Psyche Opening the Golden Box 1903
By John William Waterhouse
Annemarie is a set designer, event styler, and decorator. This is the entry hall- it’s her “homage to Versaille” and only a preview of the awesomeness to come.
The sitting room. Annemarie likes to buy antiques from various places, including boot fairs. Great trompe l’oeil wallpaper.
This is The Snug next to the kitchen. The 1950′s bar was her grandma’s. She made the pillows herself.
How to completely redo a kitchen & pantry w/o renovating it.
Floral wallpaper and bright blue in the main bath.
In the downstairs shower room, it took 3 days to decoupage the walls & ceiling with wallpaper samples and magazine pages.
The master has pop art pieces done by her friend, Tiff.
Guest room.
She did this bedroom for her granddaughter and made the mushrooms herself. Doris the cat looks a little uncertain, maybe she thinks this is a gnome home.
That Warhol portrait of Jackie Kennedy has significance- her mother was nanny to Caroline Kennedy’s children. Every corner in the house tells a story.
And, this is how she decorated the beach hut she shares w/her friend, Tiff. This house makes me want to run to flea market!
https://priceless-magazines.com/
“Feel that life is wholly unendurable, and decide madly to get a new hat.”
— Diary of a Provincial lady, EM Delafield
when john berger said that the small things we do for each other are ‘commas of care’ and thinking now of every book that has been recommended to me and every song i’ve loved that has been shared with me and every movie i’ve watched because someone dear adored it and each one of those is a stitch in time, bright and gleaming, in whatever the pattern is of our own little lived-in tapestry of lives, and a placeholder for love bc when i come back to all these things, i come back to the love that gave them to me first, commas of care that let you pause and go on.