Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Three pages from an old 1890s scrapbook I found off Charing Cross Road about a decade ago. It's actually an ancient ledger book with blue lined pages. Never scanned any of its pages until this week, though I'd often thought of doing so. Every leaf in it has been collaged with pictures of turn-of-the-century female music hall stars. No idea who put it together: nor can I decide if it is the work of a man or a woman. But he or she is strikingly fond of plump ladies in tights with legs fully revealed. A strange ribaldry everywhere afoot.
Posted by Terry Castle at 9:34 AM
Monday, February 27, 2012
The father: like one of those Dallas lawmen who accompanied the handcuffed Oswald when he was shot on camera by Jack Ruby. This guy looks considerably happier, though--not so shocked by new developments.
The kid: Victory over Japan. Let's put on favorite stretchy little bathing suit with booties.
The ma: something has grabbed me round the hips from behind and it isn't my husband.
Let's all play Fawn.
Posted by Terry Castle at 11:36 AM