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Real world influences on Cardassian fashion- Natima's dress and the Edwardian era

So. Something very interesting to me has always been Natimas sleeves.

Yeah. These weird, pleated things. They're interesting because I immediately know what time period is being referenced here, and it becomes more obvious on the Cardassian extra who also wears this dress, as she has a different hairstyle (Natima's hairstyle reads like it's referencing Heian Japan to me).

The hair, paired with the sleeves, comes off as very Edwardian. Risqué, perhaps, by Edwardian standards, but Edwardian.

For comparison, three white dresses from the Edwardian era with pleated/tucked sleeves (the first has the sleeves as part of the main dress, the other two are blouses). The point at the end of the sleeve isn't especially Edwardian, but I have seen a few Edwardian-does-medieval dresses.

Even Natima's skirt, which is incorrectly identified as a straight cut midi by some artists, has a subtle Edwardian reference. This kind of midi with weird cut outs (that her student in orange, Rekelen, also has) reads as very modern to us, and it is. The Edwardians didn't really cut skirts like this- it was ankle to floor length, straight or trained... but they did like using unusually shaped layering pieces and seam lines. These pushed on until we start seeing even more similar detailing in skirts from the 1910s.

(top left is a 1910s example, two right images are courtesy of @chic-a-gigot)

Natima and Rekelen also are both wearing boleros, or dresses that imply boleros, which aren't directly referencing an Edwardian style, but are a piece of clothing from that time.

Natima's dress interestingly, implies a bolero and a style of pleated bodice that was not worn with a bolero, in my experience.

(Bottom right from @chic-a-gigot again)

This style also may have been referenced for Ziyal's gold dress, though the pleats here look more like a Bertha collar.

Rekelen, Natima, and the Cardassian extra are also all wearing undershirts, though this really only comes off as am Edwardian reference for Rekelen; coats or dresses with elbow length sleeves had long sleeved blouses or dresses underneath.

I even have specifically orange examples of this! However, Rekelen's clothes are way less Edwardian than Natima's, and I wouldn't have picked up on the era possibly being referenced of this outfit wasn't being shown off alongside Natima's.

(Right from @chic-a-gigot)

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The crash was sudden. Instinct brought him to his feet and took his eyes to the corners, the shadows--all empty. The world sharpened, every sound and movement painted across his senses in sudden vibrant color. Not an explosive. Ever since Ab-Tzenketh that was the first, quivering question his mind asked. Not an explosive. No steps, no voices. The walls were whole, and the silence remained undisturbed save for the quiet scrape of chair as the doctor stood. They stared suspiciously at one another across the stretch of table. “What was that?” Bashir asked finally. “You tell me, Doctor.” “You can’t seriously think it has something to do with me?” Oh, I can, Doctor. But in this case, he didn’t. The taut alertness in the doctor’s body was entirely unfeigned. “No, merely that you have the better hearing.” “It—it came from the kitchen. Sounded like crashing…or falling.” Garak’s fingers found the grip of the disruptor tucked at his hip and pushed through into the kitchen. The room stood as placid as he’d left it, a few dishes sitting innocent on the counter, a half-drunk bottle of kanar decanted and casting a long, still shadow in the moonlight. Room empty. Windows unbroken. Blinds drawn. But something—something is different— The teapot. He found her sprawled, hidden by the bulk of the counter, at the jamb of the backdoor. The door itself lay cracked on its hinges, and, outside, the nightlocusts screeched, grating across the grayscale silence all around. She’d pulled a shelf down as she fell, the ceremonial teapot scattered in jagged crumbs around her. Garak had seen plenty of corpses in his time. After a while, contrary to what most imagined, one grew inured. Eventually the glazed serenity of the eyes, the stiffness of the limbs, the eerie stillness of chest and mouth were mere details to be noted just as one might note height or eye color or symmetry of face. No, the sight of death hadn’t affected him for many years. What he’d never quite grown immune to was the sight of the dying. Shivering agony in the eyes. Fluttering, soundless lips. The clutch of hands…Loral… Every one of her gray hairs was still perfectly in place. It seemed obscene. “Garak? Is everything alright?” The human’s voice was small. “Oh, God. Is she—wait--“ Before Garak could object, the doctor was crouched beside him, finger to Loral’s ashen temple. He took two breaths, brow furrowed, then switched to her wrist. A terrible keening sound. The doctor’s voice transformed, calm and strong in a way Garak wouldn’t have thought possible for one so young. “Loral, listen to me. You may be having a heart attack.” She shook her head in silent terror. Pressed her hand to the center of her chest. “Yes, but it’s alright: I have everything necessary to handle it in the medkit downstairs.” Garak didn’t register what he was saying until the doctor’s urgent, commanding eyes pressed against his. “In the medkit downstairs.” Garak sprang to retrieve it. The medkit he found in the laboratory was Parmak’s, the rugged hide bag with the small stitching of the Hebitian sun on the corner. Garak had bought it when Parmak got his job with the Bureau. A gift. Had he left it here? Had he—

Focus, Elim.

His error didn’t occur to him until he was halfway back up the stairs. The door swept open in the moonlight. The screech of the insects… Damnit, you might as well have handed him the keys to skimmer and drawn him a map to the shuttleport. But, to his relief, the only move the doctor had made was to prop Loral’s back slightly with a tablecloth. He sat beside her talking in low, gentle tones. The boy…hadn’t taken it. As easy an out as he was like to have, and he’d stayed. Perhaps he’d believed that bit about the theta-band detonator after all… Inside he quaked with a terrible mix of adrenaline and gratitude and fear, but the hand that extended the medkit to the doctor was as steady as ever. He looked at it with detached admiration. “Thank you, Doctor.” The human didn’t respond, lost in the medical scanner. A probe’s mistake, Elim. He could hear Tain’s voice, sharp with disgust. Sentiment has dulled your wits. Trying to stay out of the doctor’s way, he sat and took the old woman’s hand. Now’s not the time, Father. The medical scanner beeped worryingly. One didn’t have to be a doctor to recognize the urgency of the alarm. Loral’s eyes lolled in fear. Make yourself useful, for the love of State. You may not be able to handle her heart as the doctor can, but you can handle it in your own way… He forced a light expression. “Loral, if you wanted a day off, all you had to do was ask.”  A tug in her cheeks. Good. “You’re not to die until you’ve finished preparing the cakes for Union Day… and, you know, thinking on it, I haven’t the first clue how to steam those K’r’rausian silk tunics. Imagine! Me on Union Day without my silk tunics, Loral! A true tragedy.” The dry exhale of what might have been a chuckle. “No, I’m afraid you’re going to have to stick around a bit longer, my dear.” For the briefest of seconds, he felt Bashir glance up from the scanner. Their eyes met and something stirred. Deep, from a place he barely recognized. He hoped the doctor saw the same respect reflected back at him.

Excerpt from AlphaCygni's Garashir AU fic "Proof"

Illustration by me, @bleuuughhh-blog

Have this thing!

I find myself doubting my ability to choose an excerpt of the appropriate size and type to best represent this story and the scene I drew for it; not so long that it impedes on AC's delicately built intrigue, nor so short that it's impossible to get one's footing in the text. I doubt my ability to represent this scene well enough not just in my excerpt but also in my artwork: I doubt if it's detailed enough, well enough composed, *legible* enough.

What I don't doubt, however, is the stunning quality of the story from which this scene comes, nor the extent to which I will endorse it and sing its praises. Hats off to you @alphacygni and your phenomenal fic from years ago lol. It's irreparably changed my brain chemistry and my standard for both romances and tragedies alike. I hope you don't mind the continuous art posts and tags because I definitely have more scenes to create and share!

Anyone feel free to ask me for Garashir scribbles BTW. I do art for a living and doing dumb lil doodles helps me relax and sometimes get out of artist's block. Still exploring and learning in this absolutely wonderful fandom 💕

Click the first image to see the hairs on Bashir's lil head better

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Everyone who was on ds9 when it was terok nor became happier and everybody who came after became more miserable.

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"enthusiastic consent" "dubcon" "noncon" ???con where we're both so neurotic and strange about vulnerability and emotional and physical expression that it'd take a crack team of philosophers to figure out whether anything about what we did together was consensual or even semiotically definable as sex

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"teens are prone to tantrums and are emotionally unstable" - okay, yeah, puberty is real, and emotional regulation is a difficult skill to learn. but also. any adult person would be pissed if their opinions were disregarded, they had no say in what happens to them, their emotions and feelings were downplayed and their privacy were intruded on.

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I love the random replacements for clichés writers insert in science fiction shows. like when a 21st-century human would say "stop pacing you'll wear a hole in the floor" but in a space show the alien/future human says "you're oscillating like a Betelgeusian night badger" or some shit. like fuck yeah he is. amazing drive-by worldbuilding. I'm gonna spend the next half hour wondering why the Betelgeusian night badger evolved to do that

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I love the Star Trek fandom because everyone has their own little niche. like I love J7 and tos, but i love coming onto someone else's blog and seeing its only ent and ds9. or they only post about miles O'Brien. Or are diehard supporters of tas and also specifically majel barret characters. it feels like going to buffet seeing everyone all sit down together with their random assortment of favorite foods

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The idea of something being classy and fancy is such bullshit. Consider charcuterie boards. Random cold meats, cheese, crackers, olives and pickles served straight off a cutting board is the kind of goblin dinner I would eat laying in bed in my underwear too hung over to move. But since it's french then suddenly it's all refined and sophisticated.

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consider this: klingon rap battles

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anyone remember what these things are called like little cartoony expressive doohickies i think they have a real name but i can’t remember

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keiko and garak!!!! keiko!! and!! garak!!!!!!!!

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unpopular opinion but i think a ship that's not canon but both halves are canonically insane about each other is infinitely better than a ship that's canon and boring

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These boys came in a matching set swear. Same daddy issues HELLO??????

(In Purgatory’s Shadow)

(Doctor Bashir, I Presume?) the way these were aired practically back to back.

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I hate that the ao3 tag says "Elim Garak". I am not on a first name basis with that man. Frankly I don't think he is on a first name basis with himself

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Watching Badda-Bing Badda Bang (DS9 S7E15) for the first time and I know I KNOW where Sisko (and likely Avery Brooks) was coming from but he sounds like an "Um Actually" historical recreation nerd and it's reaaaally funny to me

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i really do want to see what the alpha quadrant yelp reviews for quark's bar are like. do they fuck with him. does he get 100% negative reviews from bajorans for working for cardassians