1.  A blog manifesto
2. Let the inspiration inside you guide you
3. The Incomplete History of Fashion
4. Fashion and museums (or: Why museums can('t) do fashion right)
5. The 'art' of fashion 
6. The 'art' of knitting 
7. The 'art' of us
8. (strong) OPINIONS (being 'called out' for having strong opinions. Whatever that means)
9. Vintage. Just vintage. Anything vintage. Or old. Old is fine too.
10. Vintage Mondays
11. Vintage shopping in Amsterdam (or, like, any other city) (or, like, not vintage but, like, your groceries or something. I don't know)
12. Vive le vintage!
13. Something cultural, old school, personal: how art (in whatever way) can make you '(re)discover' yourself (but not as cliché as that sounds) 
14. Vinyl
15. The benefits of unity
16. Mental Health (not sure about this one, find it important that it's being talked about but I find the whole subject scary to directly, consciously, discuss)
17. A victim of the brain
18. 'I'm not lost, just undiscovered'
19. Sustainability in fashion. In life.
20. Being 90% vegan (or: how it is ok to not be perfect, to make mistakes, because you try your best and the best is all you can give)
21. Declaring my love to Vivienne Westwood
22. Declaring my love to my mum (or someone else 'special' to me, you, whatever)
23. Winning is for losers
24. Wish you were here (not)
25. I'm tired of castles in the air (or: 'don't just dream in your sleep it's just lazy')
26. Le Voyage Dans La Lune (how flying to the moon can fix all your problems)
27. Rainy day outfits
28. 'I'd read your future but it's written in the past'
29. The meaning of colours (or: colours talking)
30. One month, one colour, EVERYTHING (or: one blogpost, one colour, EVERYTHING) 
31. Think pink. Think yellow. Think blue. Think green.
32. Summer of colour/black and white of winter
33. 'I keep wishing tomorrow was yesterday' 
34. Everyone is everyone else
35. In the world of rock and roll a bad hair day is a good hair day (or: look out you rock 'n' rollers)
36. Grey days (or: the colour of truth is grey)
37. The truth of it
38. You don't know what you're thinking
39. I really don't know clouds at all
40. Lost thoughts
41. You're boring now (but boring is best) 
42. 'You've got the wrong lipstick on, mister'
43. From outer space, to you
44. Zine. I want to make a zine that's pretty and clever.
45. Book. I want to write a book that's pretty and clever.
46. A shortstory about a painting (or a monster)
47.  These are a few of my favourite things
48. A journey of understanding
49. Comfort is key
50. "(...) stability is always a product of decay: the present has no fixed existence." (from: Museums as spaces of the present, p. 352)
51. A documentary approach to the present (see above)
52. Landscape of the present
53. The world became a stage; "As contemporary society has become more theatricalized, so have its presentations." (Greer Crawley in Museum Making, p. 13)
54. Trying to understand yourself through things
55. Take your guess
56. Telling stories is telling lies
57. An aesthetic experience
58. The imagined world of the exhibition
59. A kiss to build a dream on (or: alone for the lonely)
60. Dreams are for fools
61. Are you a good kid?
62. Sketchbooks (because they're cool)
63. Create a comic (because they're cool)
64. Murder through words
65. A story in space
66. Floating through the air, the weight of a feather crushing on my existence
67. A post in the style of the My 1980s essay by Wayne Koestenbaum (although a bit more boring)
68. What if I'm scared for what's coming next?
69. What do I want?
70. Catch the day
71. In the middle of my mind
72. Feeling a weird attachment to stuff you own but are sort of worthless (although what's worth anyway)
73.  The benefits of knitting
74. DIY Drama (or: D-I-whY?)
75. All hail the power of fabric!
76. Wool is cool
77. Only for the lonely
78. A creepy tale
79. Every Day Feels Like a Monday
80. Girls with short hair/boys with long hair/hair
81. Tell me your name and I pretend that I don't know you
82. Someday you'll be sorry
83. Love is enough
84. I read books in nightclubs
85. 'We can't be lovers and we can't be friends'
86. FBI's most unwanted
87. Mug shots
88. A good example of a bad idea
89. Reflecting reflections
90. 'A coat borrowed from James Dean'
91. Mais pourquoi? (or: a story on confidence)
92. Maybe I've got no idea what I'm doing
93. In search of meaning
94. Bad thoughts: the making of
95. Dress-up doll
96. Appetite for solitude/value of solitude
97. Feminism
98. Victorian dolls and their owners (or: the literal embodiment of femininity and gender roles)
99. The tea party
100. Par-TEA time 
101. A wild tea party (or: The tiger who came to tea and other silly stories)
102. A little twist of the knife
103. 'Well I must be crazy if I follow every word you say'
104. Buttons
105. A little stitching
106. 'We are stars fashioned in flesh and bones'
107. You're the bee's knees
108. Neck ties
109. Sunglasses
110. Don't wait
111. The way we are
112. Sometimes it's good to take some risks (or: Approach with caution)
113. Still standing
114. Remember when
115. Vive le comfort
116. I'll send you love notes
117. Green with envy
118. A winner at auction
119. Darkness on the edge of town (or: how bad thoughts can ruin your day)
120. I remember yesterday
121. As ugly as I seem
122. I am idling, I have idled, I will idle
123. Feels like home
124. Space to think
125. 'Great' outdoors
126. Best bite (or: put your teeth in it)
127. Hidden treasure, guilty pleasure
128. I have no reason to run
129. A list of things that inspire me
130. What if that what you're wearing -at this very moment- is a work of art. What if your daily wardrobe is part of an art performance. 'I' am a performer and my clothes, the way I combine and wear them, are an expression of this. 'I' am what I wear and 'I' am an artist.
131. Stuffed up
132. Friendsick
133. Sometimes my brain does this funny thing, "thinking" I believe it's called, and it makes me "think" about stuff. Normal stuff. Weird stuff. Stuff stuff. It just takes a spark within that tiny box one may call a head, and this -with some casual research I must confess- will be the outcome...
134. The fabric of moonbeams 
135. Pushing my luck
136. 'Honey, we can't afford looking this cheap' (or: working with a budget)
137. Last kind words
138. Five Friday Faves
139. Three Tuesday Tunes
140. Cultural appropiation
141. Who made these rules?
142. If I could, then I would
143. If you smell smoke, you're already on fire
144. For the love of stuff
145. Wear one piece of clothing five different ways for a Monday-Friday post 
146. Imaginary clothes I wish I owned (badly drawn by me)
147. 'Nothing sacred, but it's a living'
148. A bunch of lies
149. 'I'm conteemplating thinking about thinking'
150. Loved drowned eyes
151. 'You'll have to find someone else to be in your company'
152. Kill your darlings
153. Let them knit
154. Babes in wool
155. Knitting into the history
156. Kn-IT-ting
157. Sweater curse
158. Passion for fashion
159. Brainwashed.
160. Bright old things
161. I think I've figured you out
162. A tad more mod
163. Picture perfect
164. Poor me
165. Tell me your dreams and I'll tell you what they mean
166. A visual love letter
167. Dear: No One, This Is Not A Love Letter
168. Platonic love
169. Glamboy
170. Cultural complex
171. Non-verbal communication
172. In memory of my feelings 
173. What's in your imaginary bag? Mine is filled with regret and nerves, but deep down, at the bottom of the bag, there are lost thoughts and happy memories.
174. Escaping from myself (identity)
175. Books & Berets
176. You hadn't me at hello
177. Little big mistakes
178. An illustrated wishlist
179. Things to do when you're bored (or: 10 random things)
180. Reasons to be happy: you can always make, write or do something new
181. He's my kind of girl
182. She's my kind of boy
183. What makes you feel good?
184. How easy it is to be egoistic 
185. "You buy history for what it represents" said by Charles Hanson (on Bargain Hunt)
186. Between memory and history (or: Lieux de mémoire, "We speak so much of history because there's so little left" (...) "There are lieux de mémoire, sites of memory, because there are no longer milieux de mémoire, real environments of memory.")
187. (Hyper) Reality
188. Entertaining small dogs (or: the small dog inside your head)
189. What your tummy tries to tell you
190. 'Don't underestimate the things that I will do'
191. On being culturally uncultured (or: I don't know anything)
192. Fake it till you make it, scream it till you believe it
193. How to art
194. So modern it's old-fashioned
195. Maybe I should send this email... (and other thoughts to keep yourself entertained, living on the edge)
196. More disco than yesterday 
197. A touch of disco
198. Just not feeling it
199. Everything's a mess, but that's OK. 
200. Eat to the beat 
201. If I had my own fashion label...
202. Dogs rock
203. Fashion talks
204. Why the 80s are perfect for my butt (or: My 1980s)
205. My love for pinafore dresses and aprons...
206. On language and numbers (how 'we' say four-forty instead of forty-four, but also how 101 stays the same. Emphasis changes, a sign of what's more important in 'our' culture or just annoying?)
207. Relax! (or: 7 ways in 7 days to calm down, wind down and to relax, taking it easy...)
208. She falls asleep (or: My tips and tricks to try to fall asleep when the mind keeps spinning around in unendless circles of doubt, hate, fear and loathing)
209. Products User (or: a visual impression of the objects I use on a daily basis)
210.  Who am I (or: a fashionable philosophical exploration of 'self')
211.  Writing a script for a potential movie/stage performance 
212. Wrap Up for Winter
213. Slide through Summer
214. Imitation (in fashion, in life, in mind)
215. Make a moodboard (every month, every day, ever second of your life)
216. A compilation
217. (e)Quality
218. Sometimes things just aren't working out (and sometimes that hasn't have to be ok)
219. See me in the gallery
220. To do lists
221. Things to do when you're ill
222. Things to wear when it's cold outside (or: don't leave the house. ever.)
223. ... things to do in an hour
224. .... things to do before 2017/2018/20whatever
225. Things to do when you're bored
226. Things to do before the weekend
227. Things to do when you've got no other things to do (or when you do have other things to do that you don't want to do so you lie to yourself that you've got nothing to do. Sounds familiar?)
228. Sing-a-long songs
229. From cover to cover
230. This road is long
231. Brainfreeze
232. Brainfart
233. Last minute
234. Coats
235. Dark matter
236. Mind over matter
237. Mystery matter
238. Hidden meanings
239. How girls have fun
240. Wild Child (crying at night)
241. She just don't care
242. According to fashionbloggers... (or: Ridiculousness - a fantasy driven madness)
243. Literally?
244. Almost
245. Too much, too little, never (good) enough
246. Help me face the world (and other minor problems)
247. Cyclical thoughts
248. Assemble thy self
249. Everyone at once
250. Hardly managing anything 
251. Time consuming
252. Little knowing
253. Big nose, small eyes
254. Fighting For Peace & Disco
255. &Others
256. The Fear
257. The content you're getting of me is purely recreated
258. Sunday Funday
259. Hi, My name is Dominique. I can't sing. I can't dance. But I’m marvelous at reblogging stuff on Tumblr (if I may say so myself).
260. About There
261. The Other Day 
262. Leftover vintage 
263. Full of Charm and Character
264. Wasting Time
265. Ugh.
266. Interacting
267. Don't sing a clear melody
268.  The uninteresting aspects of life
269. Things I say to my dog
270. It's just another day
271. It wasn't that long ago
272. Help, I'm stuck in the past
273. Don't you remember?
274. #buzzword
275. There's something in the way you move
276. Still thinking about it
277. A million reasons
278. Bad poetry
279. Much loved
280. Growing old
281. Love affair
282. What to do?
283. Nice Things
284. Scary tales, Magical ways
285. Outfit Challenge
286. Books to read
287. Words to write
288. Thank Goodness! (Or: A list of what you're thankful for) 
289. Disheartened
290. Relevant/relevance/Relevating
291. Become Brilliant
292. The entertainer
293. Where the heaven are we?
294. My Dog Is Cute (and other facts)
295. Consistency is key
296. Saying forever too fast 
297. My Heart is Like a Boat Sailing Out For You
298. My Breathe is in the Wind Whispering I Love You 
299. [INSERT TITLE HERE] 
300. Let's Bring Back Ghosts 
301. Sense-making 
302. Writing my worries away 
303. Silliness is the holiday's best selling point 
304. The Lucky Loser Show 
305. 'You dance secretly inside my heart, where no one else can see' 
306. 'I won't dance for anyone, but I would dance for you' (or: I would die for you)
307. I Don't Dance, I Boogie  
308. 'I love you.' Do you have evidence to support your statement? 
309. I Love Having Imaginary Social Gatherings With My Imaginary Anti Social Friends 
310. Join the club! (please don't)
311. Forever alone
312. Mad Love
313. Don't Be The Bunny
314. Conscious of Consciousness 
315. Like a Spider Spins Its Web 
316. Bag To School 
317. There's no reason for a reason
318. That ain't no way to have fun 
319. Once a day
320. Be anything or nothing (or, like you know, in between)
321. Are you in or out? (or like, you know, in between)
322. A postcard from...
323. Greetings
324. Fear no mess
325. A lack of colour
326. A bit of blush
327. The turning of the leaves
328. Desk tour (or: a good excuse to clean up the mess I've created, the piles I've made, the life I've wasted)
329. A party without a cake is just a meeting
330. Taking it downtown
331. No such thing as the news
332. The essence, what's the essence?
333. Fast talkers 
334. 'Makeup is a creation, fashion is expression and art is the purest form of emotion.' (from fashion nymphomaniac)
335. I don't care at this hour
336. No hugs! Get away from me.
337. My revenge will be artistic, not personal 
338. Found Narratives
339. Do You Speak
340. Disconnection
341. You are the sweetest ache in my chest
342. The magic of beginnings
343. Motel Money Murder Madness
344. Get Your Ducks On A Row 
345. The Bad Baby Boy (or: Forever Young)
346. Dream the world awake 
347. An empty body (or: Nobody's Country)
348. A new body for everybody
349. What a fool I used to be
350. This sudden fear is strange
351. Talk to the moon & other self-help tips 
352. Reflections of a butterfly
353. This Teenage Heart
354. The Longest Time
355. Thoughts of an over-thinker
356. I am what I am (& you can't change me) 
357. Something embarrassing
358. Almost there
359. This list is too long
360. This list is too short
361. Thinking of thoughts 
362. For you
363. From me
364. Currently out of order (or: please excuse our appearance, we're inbetween looks)
365. Wayne Koestenbaum essay on Andy Warhol: "Warhol's affect is poised between happiness and sadness, between a speedy emptiness and a lethargic fullness. We can't pinpoint his mood, and we may, sympathetically, wish to ask: Is Andy okay?" (P. 238).

Did you make your way through the list? Till the bitter end? Well, if you did, I take my hat/head off to you sir/madam/alien/dog/whatever! If you've still got some suggestions of your own: try. me. out. I'm all ears (or eyes) (or, like, nose) (well no, that would be stupid. I apologise. No noses will be listening or reading your comments, I promise). Anyway, I thought it to be fun that -when I use one of these ideas- that I'll link the blogpost in this list. So it becomes a 'working list'. Something I 'work my way through'. Something I can reference throughout my blogging career ('career'). What do you think? WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Love,
Dominique

Still can't decide what to get? Maybe these books are more your cup of tea...



Do you like severed ears and mental breakdowns? Or to put it more politely: do you like a mystery to be solved around one of the greatest, if not most famous artists in this world? Well this is your chance! In this book Murphy describes her reseacrh into -what can only be described as- the second most disturbing nights in Van Gogh's life. The first most disturbing night naturally being the night that he dies after he tried to kill himself. But trust me, this second-best story is definitely worth a read. Even if you're not a Van Gogh fan, you must give credit to the way this reseacrhhas unfolded itself. It's truly through perseverance and a good head that this truth can finally be filed away as a truth. 

The book was really easy to read and followed the research as it was done. On the one hand this is a very strong point of the book as it gives you a sense of research in general (which is good when you, like me, are busy doing a research of your own and you're a bit stuck; although the theme and scale aren't the same, the idea of how to 'do it' is quite inspiring). On the other hand however this can lead you to such sentences as 'I've just had lunch with this person from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam and it was really nice. The people here are very nice.' Like, why? Why is that included in the final copy of this book? Sure it gives you a sense that this was purely a individuals passion project, but, like, why? Why should I care about your lunch with the person from the Van Gogh Museum? Why? Why should I care? I mean, I get it when it's related to a break-through (for instance when she had dinner, I think, in this restaurant where there was this poster, or something, on which stood something, I don't know, something important about prostitutes or something -or was it the way Arles used to look before the Second World War?- which led her to something else important that actually helped her to get closer to the truth). Anyway, to summarise: good book, easy to read, very interesting subject, sometimes unimportant blabber.



And now for something entirely different... I love this book (collection of poems). Although I don't think I've ever mentioned it anywhere. It's brilliant, it's sweet, it's funny, it's ironic and it's smart. But most of all it's addicting. Once you start reading there's no stopping you. On the one side that's a good thing: you want more and more and more and more, but then, after you realised what you've done, after you've consumed every last bit of it and you haven't had the time to breathe out, you'll feel silly and guilty and consumeristic. There's never enough. Nothing is ever enough. So then, on a second read, you take your time. You breathe in and breathe out and you look at the words and think about the words you just looked at. Then you read -what can only be described as- a fart joke and a single salty tear slowly makes its way down your chin into your tea. Art.



In short:
My 1980s & Other Essays made me feel cultured yet very uncultured. It made me question. And question some more. It made me tilt my head, sigh, and just read through because I knew I wouldn't get it anyway, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it.

In long:
Monday 12 September 2016, 21:47

I just picked up My 1980s & Other Essays by Wayne Koestenbaum (not only because, I reassured my bullet journal, Debbie Harry is on the front cover) after finishing Van Gogh's Ear by Bernadette Murphy the day before (not only because it's about Vincent van Gogh). Although I'd spend the whole day reading about 'museum-making' and 'narrative spaces' for school purposes, I still felt a need to read. To read just for pleasure. To unwind before going to sleep (which is funny, may this notebook be my witness, I always end up rewinding instead of unwinding when reading. Uproaring my thoughts and feeling the need to write them down in an excercise that doesn't actually help me to sleep but in return instigates slept-driven thoughts to keep me awake at night). In the back of my mind I was thinking, planning, this blogpost-series (inception?), 'celebrating' my birthday. Although I hate it, this, in secret, so deeply, but any excuse will do to make me and my mum to feverishly knit 7 jumpers. In the name of entertainment.

My 1980s & Other Essays starts with, who'd thought, an essay called 'My 1980s'. While reading I thought that this style of writing/ordering/telling a story might be fun to duplicate/immitate (in my own way) for this series. But then, on a second thought, I remembered that my life isn't firstly as eventful or secondly as interesting as the one written before my eyes. I read further, absorbed in the words, when I camed to page 11 and this was being projected into my brain:

"I was not thinking about the world. I was not thinking about history. I was thinking about my body's small, precise, limited, hungry movement forward into a future that seemed at every instant on the verge of being shut down."

And the fact that this, this, was printed on the 11th page of the book means so much to me, which is hard to explain (and hopefully you'll accept that this goes beyond the notion of me being born on the 11th around 11 o'clock, but then again to also keep in mind that that, in many ways, is also one of the reasons for my excitement, my enthusiasm, but also -mainly- my hesitation and adoration towards these words. These words that aren't mine, but made me to pick up this notebook in the first place, to -again feverishly- write down these words in the hope they'll still mean as much to me in the morning as they do right now). Basically, if I were to write a similar kind of style essay this would basically be it. At this very moment in time (tomorrow morning may be different).

22:21

As if it was meant to be, I was scrolling through Instagram when I came across a short extract, posted by Tavi Gevinson, of her early NYC diaries (which are now up on Rookie, but which I haven't read). And I find, on some level, that what she says, what I can read on Instagram, to connect with the afore mentioned:

"Chirs Kraus wrote that every letter is a love letter. David Foster Wallace frequently used "Every Love Story is a Ghost Story" in private writings, though its origin is unknown. Lorde says she doesn't write love songs, but how can that be true? Every song is a love song, is a ghost song. We love something so much that we have to write it down, and in doing so, we've killed it, like Barthes' characterization of loved ones in a photo: "Anesthetized and fastened down like butterflies." Now I'm interested in love, in letters, in songs, that are not concerned with the end; that are incapable of accessing on aerial view, on image,  story; I would like to stop trying to conquer death by documentation, feeling like the end-game will always be the page."

I always where I've been. What I've done. Or better: what I've done wrong for not being so, not necessarily smart, but cultivated (and smart). (Is it you, instagram, have you killed my brain, my ability to be(come) smart?). To be well-read and well-thought. To be able to make connections and then to connect them to your own experiences/feelings/thoughts. Lately I feel clumsy with words (not only because I wonder where I'm writing to and perhaps what I'm writing for (purpose). I'm writing mostly for my own amusements. I've always liked writing, but I feel like this past year it really has become 'something' for me (but what?). I wonder whether this is interesting or not (probably not. Me moaning and then publishing it on my own blog because 'I can' (Yes we can). What do I accomplish? Embarrassment? Self-consciousness? I've always been filled with a self-centred interest, but as I may believe one of my other current readings (a thesis: Fashion Beyond Identity by Rebecca L. Breuer), 'I' am all but a dream.

Page 12 (My 1980s):

"Does any of this information matter? I am not responsible for what matters and what doesn't matter. Offbeat definition of materialism: a worldview in which every detail matters, in which every factual statement is material."

22:49

Funnily enough, now moved on to the second essay (Heidegger's Mistress), it starts with: "I'm trying to figure out why -or how- or if - I became intellectual."

Tuesday 13 September 2016, 23:46

(Susan Sontag essay on Roland Barthes, quoted, p. 47): "(...) 'the writer's freedom that describes is, in part flight. The writer is the deputy of his own ego - of that self in perpetual flight before what is fixed before writing, as the mind is in perpetual flight from doctrine. 'Who speaks is not who writes is not who is.' Barthes wants to move on - that is one of the imperatives of the aesthete's sensibility.' Move on, Sontag urged. Leave the field untilled. Switch projects. Change hemispheres. Make a film. Direct a play. Write a novel. Fly to Hanoi. Nonspecialist, she refused restriction, scorned the limiting identity of the expert. She would rather have been considered a collector, connoisseur, sad perfert - anything but an academic."

Wednesday 14 September 2016, 10:19

Reading, for me, has three reasons (in no particular order):
1. To (be) entertain(ed)
2. To forget
3. To (be) submerge(d)

The first one is quite self-explanatory; I read to find a certain entertainment, pleasure perhaps, which keeps me reading. It's hard to read something when the *spark* isn't there (although you'll understand I don't ascribe this singularly to predestined entertainment or fiction).

It's funny how I'm someone who needs to forget and still anxiously holds on to every little thought/experience she (I) can (in my mind).

To forget, the bad thoughts (of yourself or those reminiscent of -the words of- others). To forget sitting in a train. To forget being alone or overcrowded. To forget the day, the night, the hour or even the moment. Which is closely related to the idea to submerge. To submerge myself into a certain topic, a way of writing, thinking (a process of connecting the words on paper to the music in your head and the images that have once passed your eyes). To submerge, to take a bite, out of the words (out of the world). To, for the time being, be the words (to be the writer perhaps).

23:20

Page 71: "When I write, I'm always not yet a poet; I'm a striver, a yearner, hoping to crash the House of Poetry."

Thursday 29 September 2016, 00:09

P. 98 [about Schuyler]

"He indulges the words he loves, as he wishes each passing day would pamper him. Some typical titles: 'June 30, 1974.' 'Dec. 28, 1974.' 'February 13, 1975.' August first, 1974.' Each day ia an eclectic collection of moods and circumstances, potentially catastrophic; toward a ruined day's end, cheerfulness sometimes breaks through it."

P. 98-99

"To include the fruit beside the blanket page, the page on which one is about to write a sentence is to be indolent enough to notice wild beauty, to stare at it, to wonder what words might begin to be useful in a description of it, but to stop several steps short of actually writing the words down."

Am I killing the words? I've got this bad habit of writing stuff down. For my research, for my memory, for my pleasure. Something physical that's in my own handwriting (in my own words?). I've been mocked about my way of 'going around' things. Making stuff happen. Writing stuff down. It's funny how I, in a crisi of my believe in myself and my capabilities find a calmness in one of the things I'm criticised for. For something I can't do. So is me writing down those words - the words of others - killing them by making them my own? Connecting them, remembering them?

"We love something so much we have to write it down and in doing so, we've killed it."

I wasn't consciously on a slaughtering session. And anyway I think Tavi is in this case mainly referring to experiences (the same goes for taking pictures). I'm still killing these words I'm reading (an experience an sich?). I've murdered to experience by writing about it. To quote. To literally convert them -sticking a knife in the back- into my own handwriting.
Nothing is sacred.
Nothing is safe.
A brain that works,
a body that moves,
is always contaminating, poisoning the water.

P. 104
"Not all poems need to be written. Part of the beauty of the lyric enterprise is that one can store at verse from across a rift of silent inaction and remark on the unwritten poems. Sometimes it is enough to have thought to do."

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Last minute Christmas shopping? Why not give a book! Everyone likes a book, right? I mean, there ar so many different kinds of books out there. For instance...


This year I've been on a roll when it comes to reading books. I found that reading during train rides calms me down. Although it heightens the fear of missing the right stop. Although, to be fair, the right stop for me is Amsterdam Central Station. I mean, that isn't your 'where are we again?' stop it's more your 'oh my giddy giddy gosh does the whole world need to be here too?!!??' kind of stop. Anyway, this year I've been on a roll when it comes to reading a book, but then Wuthering Heights happened. *dramatic music* I started reading this book at the beginning of July (may Instagram be my witness) and I only finished reading it at the end of October. For some unexplainable reason I just couldn't get through it. I blame it on the July sun that shone just a tad bit too bright. But still, why was this book so hard to read? I want to love it, I need to love it, why is it so hard to love it then? And then it struck me. It's very clever in that way.

The struggle is the point. The struggle between, within and outside yourself (or naturally between/within/outside the characters in the book). Being dragged into situations or (sub)consciously creating situations that either grows beyond yourself or becomes (un)explanatory to your being. The struggles within the book are made to make you struggle when reading it. Basically: not everything that's great is enjoyable. She said. She sighed. I think, within mainstream consumption, we're actually made lazy. I mean -to show my popular hand- how else can pineapple-pen be 'a thing'? Right? RIGHT?

Wuthering Heights isn't a book to simply read, to simply consume, it's a book you'll have to experience. You'll have to try to embody the means and motive before you get the opportunity to make it hunt you.


When discussing this book with my mum (because I just love to share my opinion with everyone who'd like to hear it (and 'everyone' always turns out to be my mum, who doesn't always want to hear everything I've got to say, but she's there anyway, so basically she's got no choice)), I came to the conclusion that How To Be Parisian can best be summarised with the word 'self conscious'. Which is stupid. Not the book, mind you, but the word 'self conscious'. I mean, it is stupid isn't it?

But then again it -in this case, within this book- can also be very helpful. Enjoyable. 'Fun' even. It takes itself serious, but also it doesn't. It makes fun of itself, but also it doesn't. Basically it's conscious, self conscious, of the good and the bad and all the 'grey areas' that goes with it. Which can be funny or ironic or informative. And that from your 'typical' fashion book that explores your 'typical' fashion terminology and stereotypes. So therefore concluding that it contains, maintains and obtains a self consciousness, a (reflective) personality, a 'anything but snobbish attitude' is almost the act of a madman. Call me mad.

At the end 'the' Parisian isn't defined by its je ne sais quoi, its unattainability, its fleetingness, but by its - there it is again- self consciousness, and therewith thus its humanness. The Parisian in this book isn't something that only exists between the twilight of stereotypes and daydreaming (or: seeing what you want to see, defining something that isn't actually there, but still can be looked and graved for because there's a market for it, or at least there's a market created for it by fashion magazines through idealisation). This isn't a phantom image, a nonexistent being, a fashionable money-maker (well....) or the proof of the existence of demi-gods. It's a deconstruction followed by a reconstruction followed by a resurrection.


Longbourn is a novel by Jo Baker that gives you a sneak peek behind the scenes of Pride & Prejudice. It almost gives you a reality check. A lifting of the magical veil that is love: It presents you with the inevitable truth of class, rank and life. So no fancy dresses or long diners for you, my sweetest. You will be scrubbing, cooking and crying. But then, then the story turns again. It'll let you dwell on a whole other love story, including all its romance and 'sticky stuff'. And therewith, indeed, creating another magical veil of love...

It's very refreshing to get a whole other angle on the classic story I've known (and loved) for years and years. And no, just to be clear, this isn't a story about Elizabeth and Darcy slowly falling in love. It's set in the same period of time (and a bit beyond), it's got the same pace and the stories intertwine at moments (when the servants are for instance mentioned within the Pride & Prejudice world), but it's a whole different read. Another story with another ending. Elizabeth and Darcy do get together, but who cares?! Mr Darcy can be brutally murdered with the silk ribbons of Elizabeth's bonnet or tragically slip in the lake and drown for all that I care! What about Sarah the housemaid and the mysterious footman James? What about Mr and Mrs Hill? You don't even need to know or have read Pride & Prejudice to understand this story! (although I highly recommend you to do so anyway).

Longbourn is in fact fanfiction, the only difference being that the main characters in Longbourn aren't really of any importance to Jane Austen. Or at least, they make the world of Pride & Prejudice work the way it did, but substantially it didn't made a difference on what kind of servant (the 'who': Sarah, James, Mr or Mrs Hill etc.) acted upon their wishes. It was being taken care of, like it always had been taken care of (and therewith the actual 'who' didn't matter). This whole 'role division' is perfectly demonstrated within Longbourn, although they (so the Bennet's, the Bingley's and the Darcy's) aren't being portrayed as some kind of monsters (although they are high maintenance), they play the part of master/better than you and therewith they are unlikable characters. Or at least: they don't shine as bright or are as witty as we once thought they were. You can't charm your way out of this one, Darcy dear...

Lizzy and Darcy etc., as characters, don't flourish as much as they did or could in Pride & Prejudice. Mainly because this 'new' perspective doesn't allow them to. Yes, Jane is still the most loveliest and Elizabeth is still the smartest. However when scrubbing their "monthly bleeds" from their clothing, being totally ignored and expected to serve them 24/7, you wouldn't be as taken with them as presented in their original settings. It gives the words 'pride' and 'prejudice' an entirely different meaning. Therewith making the title of this book, Longbourn, almost symbolic to this hierarchy. The servants are 'bound' to this place. It's their place, socially and morally.

You could even say that the moral is a construction based on the social, which in itself is naturally also a construction. However more importantly: it's a construction that's being acted upon. Not only by the Bennet's, the Bingley's and the Darcy's, but most importantly by the servants. Without trying to spoil anything: the anxiety that comes with these certain settings, expectations and 'rules'. The downstairs of the household tries to obtain a certain 'uniform being' that is seen as a reflection of the household as a total (so downstairs + upstairs = household aka Longbourne). Because it's a reflection or even a representation of the household within the society it moves in, it's really important how either party 'flows' (naturally the main focus being on upstairs instead of downstairs, but it's the thought that counts). And SPOILER ALERT it's quite telling that at the end of the book the main characters (the servants) are reunited at the same place that bounded them together in the first place. Perhaps demonstrating that they will always belong or play their part, in some way, as the servant no matter what happens. They'll forever be property of Longbourn, bound within the boundaries of the (social) household, while their own personal boundaries (the 'who') has developed dramatically. 'Keeping up appearences' is seen as the most important end result. "But what about love?", as Sarah rightfully asks. Yes, what about it?

 


[Click here to go to the giveaway]
[which is closed now, btw, but, like, maybe you want to look at what you could've won if you had participated... I don't know why you would want to do that either...]

Ladies and gentlemen,
boys and girls,
cats and dogs,
pizza couriers and chinese takeaways,
gather around!

The time is nigh, the winners of the first ever, and most probably last ever, giveaway will be announced shortly! Oh how electrifying! The jury had no hard time choosing the winners (as there was only one on each platform to participate... also, I'm not really a number-person, but is there any corralation between me having 226 followers on Instagram before the giveaway and loosing twenty souls after the giveaway... you can't please everyone I guess. *one single salty teardrop slowly slides over my left cheek as I scrape my throat* Anyway...). The tention is rising! Who could it be?! Who could be the lucky winners of the first Fashioned by Pluche zine??? OH MY GIDDY GIDDY GOSH I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY LONGER!!!!


And. the. winners. are.....

*an annoying and ineffective long silence. I mean, these are just words on digital paper. You could just skim the text and read it whenever you like. I'm not stopping you. I don't have the power to stop you. Yet. But when technology evolves to that extend, and when I will have the power to stop you skimming my hard thought-through words (right), well then, then... Anyway, back to the announcement*

......the lovely Batsheva from Cynical Duchess (which is an absolutely brilliant, funny and honest blog and you should all be following her) and the wonderful Loes who simply is the definition of cool and also a very good analog photographer (go and see it for yourself @loederr)!

Dear winners,

Although you were the only two participants, your stories really resonated with me. From fulfilling a childhood dream (by making your dog wear your brothers' underwear classic) to standing up to those whippersnappers who just don't 'get' the pleasure of playing with your entire Barbie/costume jewelry collection during school hours (anything to avoid maths, amiright). And by showing that you're not a deer directly staring into the headlights of a truck that would definitely squash you to death, is a very handy trade to achieve at such a young age for when you're older and people really start to act weird when you pop out the ol' Barbie doll during a board meeting... Well done, you two!

Love,
Dominique


P.s. After I've gathered your information I will send it to you as soon as I can. Pinky promise.

P.s. P.s. I've had this nightmare about you looking at my zine like 'what is this sh*t', so I'd like to ease the pain before damage has been done: this is the first zine I've ever made and -as it goes with most firsts- it isn't THA BEST THING EVAH. However I tried my very best to make it something. So I hope this something will make your eye twinkle (or twitch. Twitching is fine too) just a tiny-winy-little bit.

Business will proceed as usual very soon... (it probably won't, but I felt this sentence needed to be added).

It's the first day of December. I've got two words for you: Michael. Bublé. I think, and Mr. Bublé knows it, the Christmas album is the best idea he has ever had. Because, although I'm quite scrooge-esque towards Christmas, the soothing warm sound of Mr. Bublé's voice somehow makes everything in life better. (E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g). Anyway, while I'm swinging and shaking my booty to some Santa Claus adoring sounds, you can read this post. So let's get started! (she said, while sliding over the floor with a hairbrush in her hand loudly singing along to 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town').


I've finished my first zine! It's called 'Nostalgia: There's going to be no future' (to keep it bright and cheery). What to expect? 48 pages filled with bad -but sincere- poetry, original (Microsoft Paint) art and that overall wistful nostalgic feeling...

If you'd like a digital (PDF) copy of the zine, please send an email to: fashionedbypluche@hotmail.com with the subject line 'Fashioned by Pluche Zine Issue 1'.

However...



 If you'd like a physical copy of the zine, enter the giveaway! There are two ways to enter this giveaway (everything is in parts these days):

1. Bloggy-blog
- Follow this blog (either on Bloglovin or click on the follow button underneath the 'Good Kids Club' in the sidebar).
- Write a comment below this post telling me about a nostalgic childhood story.
(Don't forget to look back to know if you're the winner...)

2. Insta
- Go to my Instagram (@dominique_by_pluche) and follow it.
- Click on the picture with my baby face (the one that's got 'giveaway' written on it).
- Like the picture and tell me a nostalgic childhood story.

The giveaway is open internationally. The winners will be announced on the 15th of December around 20:00 Central European Time.

However...




I'd like to broaden my zine-world experience. So if you've got a zine of your own and you'd like me to read it (and write about it on this blog), you can send an email to fashionedbypluche@hotmail.com, with the subject line 'Fashioned by Pluche Zine Issue 1 SWAP'. You can either send me a digital copy and get a digital copy in return OR you can give me your contact details and I'll give you mine and we can send each other physical copies... Sounds like a plan, right?



Good question! I've already started working on the second issue. This time it's all about bad habits. So if you have a bad habit to share, you can! (Lucky you.) It can be anything and it can be expressed in anyway... (but don't come up to me and confess that your bad habit is killing people. "Oops, oh no, I kill people everywhere I go, I can't help it, I can't control myself, it's such a bad habit! Almost as bad as my chocolate addiction...". Just no. No. NO. Clear?). I already feel that this one is going to be (even *wink wink*) better and bigger than this one.

Love,
Dominique

It's December! (minus a day or two) You know what that means, right? CHRISTMAS! Oh my giddy giddy gosh the world is turning too fast, time has been mixed up and I'm getting seasick. How can it be that I am already thinking about Christmas? I don't even particularly like Christmas! It's just another day where the pressure rises high, where you're being forced to have fun and be fun. I don't do magic tricks on command (she said, while stamping her feet). However this year we're trying to do it ol' school with playing games and giving presents. BUT NO TREE OR DECORATIONS. Except for a little bit of glitter or, like, you know, some banting or something and like, Christmas cards and treats maybe BUT NOTHING MORE THAN THAT.

In preperation for 'Santa's big day', here are some gift suggestions from independent businesses to give to independent people (or not. Being independent isn't a criteria for buying these products, money is). Because, you know, no one will die from a little bit of originality... right? *suddenly chokes on a bit of originality stuck in my throat*

Last Sunday me and 'tha gang' went to Antwerp. Why? Why would I leave my house on such a ghastly, windy, horrifying day? Elementary, dear Watson! Educate yourself! Blow up a train! (that is a train of thought: break out of your daily pattern and go out into the wide open world! Explore!). Yes, yes, I know, I know, I've already spoiled my intentions in the previous blogpost, but can't we all just take a step back and be wondrous. Be wondrous of the world. Be wondrous of Antwerp and all the stones they haven't left unturned. Curiosity perhaps? Or renovation work? (Although how do I dare to poke fun at Antwerp, because has someone lately been to Amsterdam? They know how to drill too, I'll tell ya!). Antwerp is lovely and idyllic and -as I said- totally worth a visit... after they've re-turned all of the stones, that is...


So why was I in Antwerp again? Good question! To go to a museum, naturally! And not just any museum, but the ModeMuseum (MoMu). Did you know there are 63 museums in the Netherlands with a costume- and/or fashion collection but there are none, zero, njente actual fashion museums... (with an exception perhaps of Tassenmuseum Hendrikje (bags and purses museum), but like, that's not actual fashion fashion). Interesting, right! Gives you food for thought! (Why no fashion museum in the Netherlands??!). Anyway, the Belgians do have a fashion museum: MoMu! The saviour of all my problems! Because when you're doing research into the way fashion (items of clothing) are being re-presented within a museological environment, you do need a museological environment where they re-present fashion in the first place. As you might understand, an actual fashion museum is prefered above a museum that does fashion on the sidelines. Firstly because a non-specialised museum mostly uses the fashion exhibition in a different way than a fashion museum would (that's generally to say: use it in a way to gain more visitors/attention opposed to their 'regular' exhibitions on pots and pans; which could still be lovely and mind blowing, but the subject in itself is much more 'niche' and less attention grabbing (sorry)). Secondly because non-specialised museums aren't -hypothetically- as involved/up-to-date/specialised in their fashion presentation as an actual specialised museum would be. This statement is based on a comparison between non-specialised Dutch museums and a specialised Belgian museum. I mean, I wouldn't dare to say such a thing about, I don't know, the V&A or the Met. But don't take this in a way that I'm saying that non-specialised Dutch museums are doing an absolutely appaling job, because as said: the fashion exhibition within a museum that has a wider perspective within their walls mostly use the fashion exhibition as a way to speak to a larger audience. These exhibitions are the fun fair of the museum. These exhibitions are there to make the museum shine. These exhibitions are created by people who put their money where their mouth is. Most noticeably in this category I think is Maarten Spruyt, who actually is a (fashion) stylist 'specialised' in making (museum) exhibitions. On top of that I raise you the famous photographer Erwin Olaf who curated a fashion exhibition called 'Catwalk' for the Rijksmuseum. Although, as the through-and-through critic that I am, I think there are many fingers to be raised at this exhibition (and also those made by Spruyt). Although, again, I'm just a very critical person and most people are just 'fine' about it... Anyway, let's go back to Antwerp and MoMu...


Until the 26th of February 2017 you can see the Rik Wouters & The Private Utopia exhibition at MoMu. The exhibition, as the name already suggests, is based around the paintings of Rik Wouters. Wouters was the only Belgian painter who used impressionist painting techniques to depict homely-scenes around and about Belgium. His muse was his wife Nel (that's to say: almost all if not all paintings he made are of Nel). Besides Wouters' love for the homely, the exhibition also uses the 'utopic search for the good life' as an important starting point. Think Henry David Thoreau's Walden, Life in Woods (1854) and the current slow-movement (where handicraft, durability, ethical responsibility and going 'back' to the roots of things are being held high). The exhibition is packed with famous (Belgian) names and dresses (Ann Demeulemeester, Dries van Noten, Martin Margiela do I need to say more?). The exhibition is a celebration of the 100th anniversary of Rik Wouters' death (any excuse to throw a party).


During my visit I specifically looked at the way they re-presented the primary features of a clothing item before musealization has taken place within a musealized environment (musealization: the process of an object going from economical/users 'worth' to a cultural 'worth'. Or as Kenneth Hudson has put it: "A tiger in a museum is a tiger in a museum and not a tiger." In this case it is: A dress in a museum is a dress in a museum and not a dress). So I looked at the way they used certain presentation techniques (light, sound, decor etc. etc.) to 'bring back' for instance the embodiment or body bound-ness of a dress ('an item of clothing is made for the body, without a body there is no clothing item'). In this case the embodiment can be seen through the many different mannequins they used to display the garments. Hereby the body isn't 'brought back' but the dress has been filled by a particular mannequin that supports the shape of the dress (and thus replaces the shape of the body) and therewith gives it a certain 'personal identity' (the mannequin can be distinguished from another) that supports the story or timeline it's being placed in. Most notably in this case is the room with the kids mannequins, whereby on the one side there are hyper-realistic mannequins in modern brightly coloured clothes. And on the other side there are very classic (basic) mannequins in oldfashioned neutral coloured clothes (also: notice the big pile of brightly coloured toys on the one side and the small pile of more neutral coloured toys on the other side. This way you could say a story is being told about the period it re-presents and the 'people' that go with it. Through the contrast between one window and the other within the same room, the visitor is being transported into a timecapsule that tells you visually a story from both sides at the same time).


For those who've been to the exhibition (or looked it up online), I think there'll be no disagreement when I say that the Dirk Van Saene room is the best room of the whole exhibition. It looks pretty in pictures, but it really is something you should experience yourself. The whole exhibition is quite bright/light and connected with oneanother (the rooms flow into eachother with not much differentiation between them except for the clothes or theme on display). However the Dirk Van Saene room is placed secluded in the arch of the exhibition space (the exhibition space is shaped like a triangle). You first have to go through a very dark tunnel to come into the dark rounded room that is the Dirk Van Saene room. Against the wall there are mannequins slowly spinning around (unsynchronized). Each one of them is lighted seperately (a top tip: after looking at the garments, start looking at the shadows they cast on the wall, it looks like there is a real person turning very eloquently in front of you. It's magical and a very soothing experience). After you've made your first steps forward into the room, you suddenly notice a difference underneath your feet. The hard and smooth (and cold) floor is being replaced by a soft circular rug that goes into a seating (especially designed by Dirk Van Saene for the exhibition). The touch of the rug in combination with the secluded darkness surrounding you, makes you experience the room and the clothes entirely differently from the rest of the exhibition space (I guess because there are more senses being addressed. I really wish they had some music playing in the background instead of the soft buzzing of the machine that spins the mannequins around to really bring me into a different 'zone of existence'). The darkness and soft touch heightens a feeling of coziness (especially when looking into the middle of the rug, which is also highlighted through lights and depicts a bright yellow sun shining fiercely). You can get really close to the mannequins as there is no glass seperating you from the item of clothing. Because they spin around your eye detects more and more after every spin. It also gives you the opportunity to look back and forth between the garments on display which I think is nicer than the mannequins moving on the catwalk from Catwalk at the Rijksmuseum. At Catwalk the mannequins were being 'chased down the catwalk' synchronized. This feels a lot more dynamic (partly this is also because of the way the clothes and the mannequins have been set up. It's a lot more 'natural' so to speak).


If I said that I loved the exhibition I would be lying (again: I'm a very critical person). But I think they've done a pretty good job in capturing the idea or even philosophy behind the exhibition. I only wish they had included the items of clothing more into the story instead of mentioning it sort of like 'oh yeah, these designers did this and this and you can see that now here'. Because you can, see it there, but it would be -I think- more interesting if the two worlds colided more with eachother (the paintings are -literally- in front of the glass and the garments behind it. The mirroring of the glass sometimes made the images morph into eachother, but still they felt -and were- seperated. A significant stone that's left unturned).

[EDIT 25/11/2016: Last Wednesday I interviewed the exhibition curator and she told me that this exhibition isn't really centered around the body or the way an item of clothing is being worn. It's more a note/story on society. The exhibition goes into sustainability and the paintings of Rik Wouters. And indeed, the clothes on display were in this way supported through the exhibition texts and the visuals or themes presented through Wouters' paintings. But still I wish they were more intertwined with one another.]

Love,
Dominique