I have a story that I like to tell myself, about how I’m going to be this woodsy, butch old hermit living with a vast hoard of treasure. And a sub section of that hoard (I think I mentioned it back in another post) will include spangled gowns, and elaborate, largely unwearable jewellery, and all the shiny lady things that you (by which I mean I) would never expect me to care about.
I’m learning to be cautious of absolutes. Though I’ve spent a lifetime trying to resist the pressure to appear correctly feminine, disowning that stuff entirely doesn’t seem to do me much good either. I’d like to learn how to approach it, as it occasionally appeals, without it feeling like a return to bondage.
This is where the hoard is a sort of saviour, you see. The hoard’s hunger is impartial; its appetites are irrational; its contents require no justification because they needn’t answer to any practical duty; and most crucially, you can let those objects be external receptacles for the parts of yourself you can’t comfortably (or consistently) contain. Not to sound like an evil soul-eating wizard, or anything. But really, it works pretty well.
By the way, there’s no reason for me to be an old lady in this story, except that I hope to have some real expendable income by time I get there. I don’t intend to have children, and probably none of my future dogs will ever need to go to college, so it’s not impossible that by the time I’m 85, I could: 1. afford a beaded Valentino gown, and 2. have the guts to zip it on whenever I damn well please and LARP around the forest like a drunken teenager. Also, I plan to be pretty damn foxy at that age, I’m just saying.
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“I’d like to learn how to approach it, as it occasionally appeals, without it feeling like a return to bondage.” Yes !! This !! My female hoard would be pretty tiny – maybe a bottle of that nail varnish with spangly holographic bits in it, some kid leather driving gloves, and some lovely amethyst and green tourmaline rings I have left over from when I used to try and fit in. Maybe a quilted bed jacket and some 1920s wide leg trousers, but no frocks for me :)
Ooh. That is a good hoard.
Oh my gosh. <3 <3 <3 <3
As life goals go, I’d say that was pretty fantastic. Not only are you fulfilling some of your own dragonish longings, but you’re setting the stage for some teenager to have their own Young Adult novel coming-of-age adventure where they investigate the mystery your existence presents.
Also, I dearly hope you keep rocking those Chuck Taylors to your dying day.
Oh, I like this. I’ve personally always wanted some axe wielding old witch to befriend me and make me tea, so I can at at least eventually provide that service for other young people.
i could see your chest hidden in the roots of a tree, but the true treasures dangled up above, branch and leaf. and i daresay when i go back to college (free when senior citizen), i’ll probably be cheating off your awakened dog’s test. i promise only the best bribes! some treats and neck rubs of course!
It will work out great, until my dog starts chewing on the test paper. Although come to think of it, this is the future, so it’s probably chew-proof holo-paper. Nevermind, you’ll both ace it. I won’t tell a soul.
I support this hoard and this dress. In my brain those elaborate sheer sparkly dresses are what the ancient elves wore in Arlathan. XD <3
Oh god, yes. I want my whole later life to be one long stint of Flemeth/Mythal cosplay.
Also, I’ve missed your goblins and elves since I’ve been off tumblr!