Mainromanoff - Anna

Státní opera (State Opera), Prague (by ancient-serpent)

Not to be over dramatic or anything but the decline in popularity of hand written letters is one of the most disappointing decisions we've made as a modern society.

Spring Dark Academia Outfits

A rainy day: A pale, oversized sweater with embroidered flowers and vines on the collar of the button down underneath. Hair frizzy with the humidity, wrestled into a messy bun or left in a puffy cloud. Loose, comfortable tartan pants or skirt. Doc Martens or some other combat boots that can splash through puddles. Long trench coat. A dramatically oversized black umbrella, preferably with some sort of fancy handle. 

Strolling through sunny streets: A jewel colored tank top or bralette under an oversized white button down, left unbuttoned and loose. High waisted tan shorts or cigarette pants with brown leather shoes. Hair is loose and overgrown after the cold months of not cutting it. Gold jewelry wrapped around fingers and throat in the shapes of arching branches, thick with flowers and thorns. A baker boy hat to keep loose hair pushed back.

The birds are singing: Flowing white linen skirt or pants. A billowy shirt or sweater in pale colors with ballooning sleeves. A silk bandana over the hair to keep it from fluttering, ticklish against the face. Or perhaps one of the first flowers tucked carefully behind one ear; it slips every so often, but every time fingers brush against it something light and airy ignites in the chest. 

Not ready for summer: Making one last use of winter fashion before the heat forces it back into the closet. A black turtleneck and plaid skirt, but now without a heavy overcoat or warm leggings. Leather boots now used for splashing through puddles instead of snow piles. Dark green sweaters and skirts are getting worn especially, as they match both the new plants springing from between cobblestones and the evergreen trees that never left. Dramatic lipstick, red like freshly crushed fruit. 

Perfect weather to pretend to be an archeologist: Something in all tan and white. A light brown sweater vest over a white cotton shirt with the sleeves pushed up haphazardly. Tan, high waisted palazzo or midi pants. Rich brown leather belt with a gold buckle that matches the comfortable shoes perfectly. Egyptian coins fashioned into earrings. Golden round glasses that keep slipping over the nose, only to be pushed back up again.  

Picnic time: A loose, flowing midi dress with puff sleeves and a delicate floral print. Brown leather lace up boots. Hair in a long braid or up in a French twist, the comb covered in jeweled flowers or perhaps skulls. Rings on almost every finger, each one placed deliberately with an affirmation spoken softly on the lips: this one to protect, this one to offer insight, this one to help me remember. A picnic basket in one hand, worn leather satchel around the other shoulder filled with study materials to enjoy as deeply as the fresh fruit.

— Neil Hilborn, from Our Numbered Days

— Anaïs Nin, from Henry and June

one thing I’m grateful to my mom for is telling me from a very young age that if a man ever says he’ll kill me if I don’t do what he says, that I should fight and die. that it would be better to die than to be brought to a second location, it would be better to die instantly than live a little longer after god knows how much violation. i know that other people’s moms gave different advice, to be quiet so you can live and get away. little girls all got some kind of advice on what to do, though, huh? like… WHEN a man wants to hurt you. it’s surreal to think about how this shadow affects the landscape of girlhood

Pulp fiction (1994)

“A winter sky, a soft warmish December sky whose tender ash grey makes of the rose with its rotting shades a transparent flower of amber.”

— Jean Lorrain, from Selected Poems; “Dropping Petals,”  written c. 1889

Went to see the Rodin exhibition last week. It was so quiet, it felt like it was just me in the whole building. I spent about two hours just wondering around alone in the absolute silence with these sculptures. I love these estranged shapes, anguished poses, disruptions of the expected body