#little mix & matches patchwork cultures

[bitbrumal]

my diluc has picked up little idiosyncracies from @aalberich's kaeya, like 'alalalah...' ... although now of course i don't remember them correctly BUT. if you hear diluc uttering some vague arabic khaen thingies this is why lmfao.

[witchesoz]

Fashion in Oz: the Good Witches (4)

After the original illustrations of the books, and after the heritage of the MGM movie, let's look at another big part of the Good Witches history: the Wiz. And we will start with the Wiz's equivalent of the Good Witch of the North, Addapearl the "Feelgood Girl", in her original Broadway incarnation.  [Note: I am certain there are things to say about the history of Afro-American fashion and symbolism in the Wiz's outfits, but unfortunately I do not have such a knowledge, so I'll stay with a superficial analysis based on what I see].(Note: sometimes Addapearl is written Addaperl. I will stick with the first writing because it is the one I am the most familiar with.] Already as you can see, the main color of Addapearl is blue - her outfit is made of all sorts of blue nuances, from teal to dark blue passing by cerulean and others. This does make her match the Munchkins, who also correspond to the color blue - and overall, it is a color chosen due to how "soft" it is and it highlights her "good" nature. The outfit is actually made of a dress, with a petticoat on top, and then a sort of translucid shawl-like cloak, forming a translucent hood around the witch's wild hair (in the Wiz all the witches have wild, spiky hair) before falling behind her as a sort of cape. Note that this cloak actually has little shining stars in it. The petticoat and dress themselves is actually patchwork in style, with various patches of different colors added in a quite disorderly order - and I think this is meant to reflect Addapearl's very own character. She is, in Urban Dictionnary's words, "hysterically clumsy", a mix of sweetness and craziness, the kind of witch prone to "crash her bubble" - as we see in the play her "magic tricks" often fail, and her exhuberant stage-girl persona contrasts heavily with her lacking abilities, and this sort of crazy bubbly personality does fit this strange blue patchwork dress - which, if you notice, has actually white gloves sewn on the skirt, to add a bit of strangeness to it all. The white gloves notably answer several white mail-like pockets also present on the skirt. She usually also carries with her a blue handbag, with on it a white glove, crescent-moon and star, that you can see in this picture:

If you want to see more of the costume, you can actually check the Smithsonian/National Museum of African-American History and Culture website, since the costume was kept as part of the "Black Fashion Museum". You have a detailled description here:

https://nmaahc.si.edu/object/nmaahc_2007.3.10.1ab

And some more pictures here: https://www.si.edu/object/costume-gown-petticoat-and-jacket-addaperle-wiz-broadway%3Anmaahc_2007.3.10

After seeing Addapearle in the original "The Wiz" musical, we need to take a peek at the recent "The Wiz Live" revival of The Wiz, back in 2015. What is truly fascianting here is that they did a complete reversal of the original Addapearl costume. Instead of having a floor-length, big dress with a small petticoat, here we have a smaller dress stopping above the ankle, with a longer, "full" coat. And instead of having a weird, bizarre, patchwork of color patches and sewn gloves, adding a sort of crazy whimsical nature to the witch, here we have much more refined, beautiful and delicate embroidering, with golden motif, suns and flowers, overall a very high-quality, "rich" outfit, for a more... well for a younger and I guess more "peppy" and energetic witch, leaning more into the "stage girl" aspect of the character. A last interesting detail would the hair of the witch, who is here literally shaped like a small witch hat. And it is more than just evoking a witch hat with a swirl, no, they actually did the whole brim of the hat with the hair too, to the point I thought at first this Appadearl wore a small blue witch hat... before realizing it was her hair shaped like that through a series of braids.

"The Wiz", the movie, changed a LOT of things from the original musical, and those numerous changes notably reflect heavily on the very design of the Good Witches. For example the character of the Good Witch of the North, who was completely reinvented for the movie. Out with Addapearl (or Addapearle, or Addaperl, nobody seems to agree on how the name is written), now we have "Miss One". Now several details are kept such as... well, the blue color for the witch - who is still associated and making one with the Munchkins, as Addapearl did in the original musical, and as MGM's Glinda will do too in the 2011 Wizard of Oz musical (there is this specific trend in musicals to have the "welcoming witch" of Oz be the same color as the Munchkins, and it is something that can raise some interesting topic about the link of the Good Witch of the North with the Eastern Munchkins, in the original canon vs popular culture). And we still find some of the discreet star motif of the original Addapearl, not on a shawl/cloak though, but here in the dress of the little old witch, which has stars and moon crescents woven into it (you might notice the "star and moon" pattern being a recurring thing with the Good Witches). It is especially interesting here since in the movie adaptation of the Wiz, both Good Witches are associated with the color blue and the star motif - but more on that with Glinda's breakdown. Beyond that, a lot was changed. Most notably is the fact that, while The Wiz was just about retelling The Wizard of Oz in a Black style, with Black actors and a certain Afro-American feel to it, "The Wiz" the movie decides to have the setting be specifically a reference to New-York, with Oz being a twisted and fantastical mirror of the Big Apple - as a result, the various characters have a more "urban" feel and Miss One here is based after... a "bag lady". And if you don't know what a "bag lady" is, it is a very common "type" of homeless people, a stereotype based on how often you see homeless women carrying around all of their belongings in an incredible number of cloth and plastic bags. And here, Miss One is a witch-version of this, carrying around an enormous amount of blue bags wherever she goes. The other main change to the character is the movie's addition that Miss One is a "math witch", obsessed with numbers - and so we find this in her very design. Around the collar of her dress, various numbers are embroidered. In her various bags, big 3D numbers can be seen popping out ; she carries around her neck an abacus/counting frame... And even more - in her curly, cloud-like gray hair, if you look carefully, you will see blue streaks of hair shaped like numbers. You can't see them very well here, but take a look at this picture and they'll become obvious:

[oumaheroes]

hii its bougie <3 if you're still taking hc requests, i was wondering if you'd have thoughts on something that's been on my mind for a while. i was interested in the nuance to english culture due to regional differences. eg.,dinner being called "tea" in the north of england, rugby being more popular in the south, the difference in how scones with jam and cream are enjoyed in Devon and Cornwall?? or how certain english accents are perceived as... "less attractive" i guess (the black country accents are unpopular apparently?) -- you'd probably know more about these particularities than me ;u;

i was wondering how these cultural differences might map onto hws England's character, and how they might influence his attitudes and behaviours. because there's such a clearly defined stereotype of the english that i think shape people's expectations of what the english are like, i usually think that Arthur usually consciously acts according to what counts as positive interpretations of himself. however, i love nuanced and somewhat subversive interpretations of his character, and am very curious if you might have any ideas on how these kind of internal regional differences might shape him.

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Bougieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <3

I’m not gonna lie this sent me down a RABBIT HOLE of thoughts, so hang on tight cos we're gonna get messy.

Accents:

Let’s start with my personal favourite, so excuse me whilst I geek out for a second. I’ve gone into this area already in this headcanon, but I personally see England being a very proud little dragon regarding English accents, those both native and non-native to the British Isles. Focusing just on accents within England for this post, the way Arthur himself sees them, (regarding class and general preference), comes a lot down to how I see him feeling about language and the unification of England in general.

England is a tiny country. It’s really teeny, compared to some, and yet holds an incredible number of regional accents and dialects (from digging about the internet for a good source, I keep finding numbers ranging from 37 to 43). There are a number of reasons for this, but the one that I love the most is that accents are influenced by the previous/ influential other languages spoken in a given area. Accents on the East of England are more influenced by Viking invaders, both phonologically and via the dialectal words used, and accents/ dialects in the West are more influenced by Welsh, for example.

Accents and dialects tell the history of a place, all who ever came there and influenced it to some degree. The map of English accents is a patchwork quilt of old cultures and people now lost to time, but their ways of speaking have been preserved in the modern tongue. The old English kingdoms might now be mere counties- Kent, Essex, Sussex, East Anglia, etc- they may not have their own influence or language these days as they used to, but their old ways have been imprinted on their people of today whether they know it or not and they carry pieces of the past in their words and how they speak them. Older speakers of the Northern English dialects liek the Yorkshire dialect still use ‘thou/thee’ where this has fallen out in other areas, the Midlands and parts of the South-East still keep the ‘-n’ ending for possessive pronouns (‘yourn’ instead of ‘yours’, ‘ourn’ instead of ‘ours’), and there’s even some linguistic research into how Brittonic, the ancestor of Modern Welsh, influenced English structure and phonology (for references, see notes at the end).

Back to England the person (to contain myself slightly), his regional accents are a story of himself, his history being kept alive in all of its variety every day. He doesn’t hold a classist view of a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ accent because he knows why they’re all there- what languages and people influenced them and how these events affected him- the older generations now lost and forgotten being kept alive in the smallest of phonemes.

Every dialect, every accent, and every language tells the story of a people, from the smallest phonological marker right up to a language as a whole and England takes comfort and pride in his dialects and accents’ longevity and variety. He is as much of the North as he is the South, as much of the East as the West and a patchwork man born of patchwork cultures it makes no sense for him to favour one particular accent over another.

That being said, he is aware that there is a common cultural stance on accents as well as an opinion regarding ‘ugly’ ones, ‘common’ ones, and ‘classy’ ones, but he himself doesn’t partake in these ideas. I like to think that a nation takes on the speech of the people and the area they’re in, matching the person they speak to or the area they visit to relate to their people. So, for me a Chav Arthur exists as much as a Brummie one does, or a Scouser, or a Geordie, or a Cockney. They’re all English, and thus they’re all a part of him.

Class

I have to include this one, if only to touch on it lightly regarding accents and dialects. Class does influence which words you speak, arguably just as much as which accent (this is known as a sociolect). Although I said that England adopts the accent of whatever area he’s in, or whomever he’s talking to if they’re English, the class people are will also affect which words he choses to use.

Here’s a short example from here:

'It is pudding for the upper class. Dessert is sometimes used by upper middles, but afters and sweets very clearly put you below stairs.'

Have some more!

Upper class: Spectacles, Lavatory or loo, Die, Napkin, Sofa

Middle class: Glasses, Toilet , Pass on, Serviette, Settee or couch

(Working class is a mix but harder to find sources for).

This is where England treads a fine line. It could be that he again adopts more of a class lexicon regarding who he is speaking to, matching his people word for word. However, England is not unaware of the affects of class, regardless of how he himself feels, and also although class snobbery and divide frustrate him, he cannot deny using this understanding to benefit himself, which also conforms to how his own people behave. (I myself have, many times, diluted and filtered my speech to be seen as ‘better’).

Want to be seen as more reliable and powerful? Want to be taken more seriously? RP and Estuary English (a lot more so these days), hold undeniable sway and England is not above adopting a manner of speaking to come across ‘better’ or more polite, or a more ‘common’ accent to fit in with the working classes. I think of England as leaning more towards a working-class mindset- he’s very hands on, very up for and used to manual labour and this particular English class has always made up the bulk of his population. It makes no sense for a nation, who represents all of their people, to have a snide view or a preference for a particular group and England as a person I see is someone who does not enjoy the foppery and false airs of aristocracy.

That being said, England is an intelligent man. He knows how to work a room and use a crowd to his advantage, knows what must be done and what he needs to do to achieve a goal and if this entails courting the upper classes for a time then he will do so. He’s adepts at switching himself like a chameleon, blending his behaviours, accent, and dialect to match who he’s talking to to achieve a goal or to fit in with someone’s perception of him, or to gain influence or prestige. He also doesn’t hate his upper classes- they are of him too, and the middle and working class have their own prejudices and ideas against the others. But he doesn’t adopt a stereotypical distain of lower classes because to him, it really doesn’t make much sense.

Abroad, this need to cultivate a particular perception defiantly comes under greater pressure. RP and Estuary English are more well know, more heard and taught, and more recognisably ‘British’, and so these are what he uses when speaking English to other nations or foreigners, either wanting to uphold an image of himself (more so in the Victorian/ Edwardian period than nowadays) or just for the ease of being understood.

Regional Differences

Okay, this one is a lot more fun. Does England put in his milk first or last when making tea? Does he put jam first, or clotted cream when having a scone? Does he have chips with gravy, or curry sauce? Does he have dinner at 6, or 9? To marmite, or not to marmite.

Ah, that is the question, and England does not know the answer. Does he do what he does because that’s what he likes, or because that’s what his people do? He didn’t grow up with these habits, after all, they’re all relatively recent in his lifetime, and so these habits are defiantly things he cultures for a particular audience.

I’m not really sure if the above preferences are class based, (well, milk first when making tea is argued to be, but I can't find any sources I'd consider entirely credible. I put the ones I did find in the notes below, in case any one's interested), so it’s hard to get a sense of which one to use. Overall, it doesn’t matter which you do and neither is right or wrong, but the English feel strongly about them, one way or another, and often Arthur the man isn’t sure at all which one he himself actually thinks is better.

Food in another sense though is something he can be surer of. A Cornish pastie not from Cornwall is not worth eating, nor is a Bakewell tart outside of Bakewell. England can be very particular about this sort of thing and enjoys maintaining and supporting the ‘original’ flavour or recipe of a thing where he can, considering this to be the ‘best’. Sally Lunn Buns from Bath, Gypsy tarts from Kent, Eccles Cakes from Eccles.

England wants to preserve his food and culture and has what could be considered a snobbish view on the ‘best’ way of creating or eating his national foods. Some things he is more lenient with: he will eat cheddar cheese, whether or not it is from Cheddar, same from Cumberland sausages not from Cumbria. But he certainly has a preference and he is not afraid to voice this when asked for his opinion.

Okay, we're done

Phew! This had me digging out my old linguistic student brain. To anyone who has made it this far down, gosh golly miss molly thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the ride, and especially @prickyy who was kind enough to want to hear my opinions about all of this <3

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Notes:

Brittonic influence on English:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brittonicisms_in_English

https://scholar.google.co.uk/scholar_url?url=http://journals.mountaintopuniversity.edu.ng/English%2520Language/Celtic%2520Influences%2520in%2520English%2520A%2520Re-evaluation.pdf&hl=en&sa=X&ei=2ohDYdq3BoWImwHn6oWQAg&scisig=AAGBfm29zTF0FBCpd1KqDiAbjM-0X7nfoA&oi=scholarr (PDF)

https://scholar.google.co.uk/scholar_url?url=http://www.oppi.uef.fi/wanda/unicont/abstracts/14ICEHL_MF.pdf&hl=en&sa=X&ei=2ohDYdq3BoWImwHn6oWQAg&scisig=AAGBfm3UvOXbJEb0b51J73eBnTJvgGaQOA&oi=scholarr (PDF)

Sociolects and class distinction within language in English:

https://languageawarenessbyrosalie.weebly.com/social-dialects.html

https://www.grin.com/document/313937

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U_and_non-U_English

Milk in tea first and the potential class reason:

https://www.theteaclub.com/blog/milk-in-tea/

https://qmhistoryoftea.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/milk-in-first-a-miffy-question/

[thezodiaczone]

Libra Compatibility

LIBRA + ARIES (MARCH 21 - APRIL 19) ♥♥♥♥ You're opposite signs who can match up well, but you sometimes baffle one another, too. Aries rules the self and Libra rules relationships. Libra is a lover; Aries is a fighter. Your polar extremes can be a great complement if you borrow what the other does best. Rash, temperamental Aries could stand to give others the benefit of the doubt, to look before leaping—something the wise Judge does well. Languid, overly accommodating Libra can learn to speak up, say no, and take action instead of pondering the possible consequences for a year. Although your differences can be irritating, they also make you a well-rounded couple if you play them right. When Aries needs to rant, patient Libra offers uninterrupted listening, capped with sage, sensible feedback. In return, Aries helps Libra overcome a mortal fear of conflict, teaching this sign how to stand up for his rights. As parents, or even business partners, you play the good cop/bad cop routine like seasoned pros. Just be willing to adjust your internal thermostats as needed. Hotheaded Aries will need to dial down the anger, lest all that concentrated emotion throw Libra's scales off balance. Erudite Libra will need to descend from that lofty, cultured perch and take a bold risk. (No, Aries does NOT consider ten years a reasonable time to wait for an engagement ring—and never will.) Compromise is essential for you to find a rhythm.

LIBRA + TAURUS (APRIL 20 - MAY 20) Your signs are both ruled by Venus, but your disparate elements prevent this from being an ideal match. Taurus is a fixed Earth sign who builds his castle by the sweat of his brow, then lords over its inhabitants. Libra is cardinal Air, a Queen bee who buzzes around, ruling the hive without doing the drone-work. You both want to be in charge, but your clashing leadership styles create a patchwork parliament that can't agree on anything. Taurus is planted on terra firma, and Libra lives in the clouds. Of course, if the Bull is content to be the provider while Libra dresses up and plays charming host, then this can work. You're certainly an attractive pair of aesthetes, and you share high-end tastes in fashion, décor, food and all the Venusian pleasures. Shameless snobbery is a shared affliction, but neither of you cares to be cured. You love to talk about art, literature, politics, everything under the sun—though Taurus may find Libra's values superficial, and moderate Libra will take offense to the Bull's heavy handed opinions. At least your sexual attraction is strong, and that will take you far enough. However, conflict-avoiding Libra will need to build up some backbone to avoid being steamrolled by dominating Taurus. The Bull will need to turn down the volume, and Libra must get better at addressing issues head on, rather than letting them fester.

LIBRA + GEMINI (MAY 21 - JUNE 20) ♥♥♥♥ You're compatible Air signs with silver tongues and gilded wings, a magical match indeed. Libra is a pretty pixie and Gemini is an impish sprite. Your meeting rouses the fairies and gnomes, stirring up mischief in your midst. You love to mingle and schmooze, and you'll chatter like two little tree monkeys, gabbing a mile a minute. But will the breathless excitement last? Getting past the superficial romance stage is the challenge. You're both so indecisive that nailing down a commitment is like catching moonbeams in a jar. That said, the illusionary quality of your relationship is a magic you both enjoy. It's when life becomes too real that you vanish in a pinch of enchanted dust. To make this last, you'll need to dip your toes into the murky morass of intimacy, then learn to swim. Money can become an issue between you, particularly the way you spend it. Gemini is ruled by intellectual Mercury, and would rather invest in college degrees, a film collection, enriching travel. Libra is governed by beauty and pleasure-loving Venus, and splashes out on art, couture, custom suits, spas. You'll need separate wings for Gemini's books and Libra's handbag or shoe collection. You have different approaches to romance, too. Libra loves a lengthy courtship with all the trimmings, but Gemini bristles at picking up too many tabs, especially with Libra's extravagant taste. You'll probably need to keep separate accounts to avoid meddling in each other's purchase habits. Cut up the credit cards, too—many happy relationships can be destroyed by debt. Don't let that happen to you.

LIBRA + CANCER (JUNE 21 - JULY 22) You're a sweet, romantic couple, but not always a perfect match. On the upside, Cancer is ruled by the caring Moon and Libra by romantic Venus, casting a tender glow on this love affair. With your flair for color, style and objets d'art, you could open an interior design business (your home may in fact resemble an Architectural Digest spread). Now, the challenge: Cancer is a deeply emotional Water sign whose moods fluctuate like the tides. Libra is a social Air sign who prefers to happy-dance through the daisies. Between the Crab's fatalism and Libra's denial, nobody has a strong grip on reality. Better keep a few grounded Earth sign friends on speed dial when you lose perspective. Failing that, you'll need to adapt to each other's opposing natures. Like a stone skipping across the water's surface, Libra averts the plunging depths of Cancer's inconsolable undertows and cloying neediness. Yet, avoidance is futile, since it only upsets the Crab to be ignored. Libra should learn that a hug, flowers and an apology (however undeserved) pave the quickest path to peace. Not that Libra doesn't have his own powerful undercurrent: when those scales tips out of balance, he can escalate a minor breakdown into a Code Orange catastrophe. Admit it: you're both big babies at times. For long-term success, find activities you both enjoy: travel, language classes, dancing, dinner parties. You're gracious hosts and culturally literate people with lots to talk about. Get out and savor life together.

LIBRA + LEO (JULY 23 - AUGUST 22) ♥♥♥♥ You're a pretty pair, attracted to the other's good looks and charm. The courtship phase has all your favorite trimmings: massive bouquets delivered to your office, iPod mixes of your favorite angsty love songs, sonnets inspired by your affection. Leo and Libra are two of the zodiac's most romantic signs, and you love everything to be pleasant and harmonious on the surface. The challenge comes when it's time to get real. Rather than show your unpleasant humanity, you coat issues in saccharine, avoiding touchy topics to keep the happy vibes flowing. However, the artificial sweetness soon leaves a bitter aftertaste, especially for Leo. The Lion is a Fire sign, with a much more passionate disposition than cooler Air-sign Libra. Leo is pushy, Libra procrastinates, and you can get caught in a dance of anger as a result. When truly upset, the Lion roars. Libra can bellow right back, but he's more likely to withhold attention, the thing that Leo most craves. Leo's demands for affection, praise and validation can drain Libra after a while. Dramatic highs and lows tip Libra's scales off balance, inciting a passive-aggressive backlash. It starts with locked doors and escalates into Internet porn or even affairs if Leo doesn't get the hint. You may be better off as friends if you can't get beyond this impasse.

LIBRA + VIRGO (AUGUST 23 - SEPTEMBER 22) You're next-door-neighbor signs who can learn a thing or two from each other. Virgo is a cautious Earth sign who plans for the worst and prays for the best. Air-sign Libra not only expects the best, he demands it—and thus, he usually gets it. In stressful times, Libra's charm and balanced perspective is a breath of fresh air for anxious Virgo. The Virgin is ruled by mentally-stimulating Mercury, and his mind goes a mile a minute. Libra's ruler is Venus, the goddess of beauty, love and pleasure. Like a gentle lullaby, Libra smoothes the rough spots, helping Virgo relax and trust that everything will be okay. While this may be an illusion, it still has a hypnotic effect on Virgo. Socially, you mix well. You both enjoy arts and culture, and you'll never be at a loss for date ideas: museum openings, concerts, readings. You're also a fastidious pair—you'll have the cleanest house on the block if it's up to Virgo, and the most tastefully decorated home if Libra has a say. The one dynamic to beware: Virgo is the zodiac's helper and Libra is its pampered diva. This can easily turn into a master-and-servant scenario, with Libra feigning helplessness and Virgo scrambling to save him. Like Persephone eating the pomegranate seeds that doomed her to Hades, Virgo must be careful not to swallow Libra's intoxicating tales and sob stories.

LIBRA + LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23 - OCTOBER 22) This perfectly pleasant combination works best when one Libra is at least ten years older than the other, like Librans Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas. That way, it's clear how to divide up the roles. One of you has to be the primary decision-maker, after all—no easy feat with two sets of vacillating Scales. Heck, you lapse into analysis-paralysis when the grocery checker asks, "Paper or plastic?" Because of this, it can take time for your signs to gel—that is, if the connection doesn't taper off before the first date. (Hint: waiting three days to ask each other out is acceptable. Three years? A little long.) Procrastination can be your downfall, as can terminal politesse. At all costs, you should have separate vanities and dressing rooms, as you both like to primp and preen. Zeta-Jones herself once declared individual bathrooms the secret to a successful marriage. Well, for two Libras, non-adjoining sinks and mirrors might just make it into your wedding vows. Once you do come together as a couple, your loyalty to one another is fierce. You make a cunning tag team who should go into sales together. One lash-batting Libra oozes charm, wrapping your prey around a manicured finger; the other swoops in like a hawk for the kill. Later, you'll divvy the spoils into equal portions and celebrate in lavish, Bonnie and Clyde style.

LIBRA + SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23 - NOVEMBER 21) Libra is light and Scorpio rules darkness, but your searing sexual chemistry blazes through borders. As a couple, you're quick to bed and slow to wed. In many ways, the long prenuptial pas de deux is a mutual choice. Romantic Libra loves an extended courtship—long dinners, vacations and lavish gifts. Shrewd, suspicious Scorpio will subject Libra to a battery of character tests, gauging whether Libra can be trusted. Libra is an incurable dilettante whose surface skimming can feel lightweight beside Scorpio's obsessive, detail-focused nature. Because your temperaments are so different, your initial phase can be fraught with misunderstandings. Libra is an outgoing butterfly and an unrepentant flirt, provoking Scorpio's jealousy at every turn. Possessive Scorpio prefers passionate bedside confidentials to paparazzi and parties, but Libra quickly feels smothered without a social scene. To say you'll need compromise is an understatement. Combine your strengths, though, and you can also make a powerful society couple—with Scorpio dominating the world from behind the scenes, and Libra presiding as its lovely, doe-eyed diplomat.

LIBRA + SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22 - DECEMBER 21) You're fast friends who make each other laugh, sharing a sharp, sarcastic wit. People watching is your favorite pastime, and you can amuse each other with clever observations all day. Romantic Libra brings poetry and flowers to Sag's gritty, profanity-strewn world, and active Sagittarius gets Libra's nose out of the rosebush. Still, your different paces could cause friction. Languid Libra likes to take everything slow, weighing and measuring possibilities on those iconic Scales before acting. Naturally, this frustrates impetuous Sag's text-message attention span. The Archer prefers to leap before looking, relying on luck and goodwill to save the day. Such gambling and lack of security throws Libra's delicate constitution into a tizzy. Sagittarius finds Libra's champagne tastes too snobbish and materialistic—why pay over $20 for anything you can get at a thrift shop or make yourself? Sagittarius' half-baked ideas and churlish outbursts rain public embarrassment on Libra's carefully cultivated rep. When Libra plays damsel or dude in distress, independent Sag flees instead of saving the day. So why stay together? At the end of the day, your friendship remains solid. There's no conflict you can't talk through after a time-out. Although you may drift in and out of platonic feelings, you genuinely care for each other—and that speaks volumes.

LIBRA + CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22 - JANUARY 19) Capricorn is the provider sign, forever seeking a mate in need of financial backing. Libra is a vain dilettante who's happy to play muse to an Earthy benefactor. You have your oft-irreconcilable differences, yet you stay together all the same. In many ways, you have what the other needs. Libra is a master of social graces with a billion air-kissed "friends." Capricorn can be an antisocial grumble-puss who cleaves to childhood cronies and family. Libra spends on impulsive pleasures; Capricorn plans for tomorrow. Battles can be brutal. You're both convinced of your natural superiority; your haughty contretemps and ego showdowns merit a Bravo series. Of course, antisocial Capricorn would never allow cameras into the estate, while Libra would whip together a stylist, understudy and five-star craft services. Therein lies the difference: your values. Not an easy hurdle to scale, even for a determined Goat or a patient Judge. A successful relationship will require much compromise. The fawning affection romantic Libra craves will be in short order. Capricorn shows love through acts of service and loyalty, not pandering. Libra must learn to accept love in a less-adorned package, and trade a few parties for cozy nights in. Capricorn must exit the cave to meet new people, play host and smile once a season. You can do it—but will you be happy? That's the question.

LIBRA + AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20 - FEBRUARY 18) ♥♥♥♥ You're one of the zodiac's easiest matches: just two carefree Air signs breezing through life with a full roster of friends, travels and adventures. Together, it's twice the fun. Although Libra is more the dashing diva/dandy and Aquarius the quirky Bohemian, your sunny social dispositions pair well. Every stranger is greeted by your hail-fellow-well-met embrace, and you collect friends wherever you go. Indeed, you may meet while chatting at the cheese counter, lounging poolside on the Riviera, or in a dog park scene reminiscent of an Ephron rom-com (picture Aquarius' retriever pouncing on Libra's dainty teacup terrier—what a metaphor). Your conversational chemistry guarantees a great first date, even if the prevailing vibe is platonic. If you hit it off, you'll host lavish parties with an eclectic mix of Aquarius' artsy, leftist comrades and Libra's highbrow circle, bringing them all together with panache. Caution: your casual natures can impede intimacy. In private, you can both be moody, making pouty, indirect plays for affection and sex. Aquarius is also far less romantic than Libra, at least in the traditional sense. That humanitarian bent will clash with Libra's caviar wishes (animal cruelty!) and fondness of bling (blood diamonds!). Most days, you take those differences in stride. Having a lifelong playmate is worth it.

LIBRA + PISCES (FEBRUARY 19 - MARCH 20) Drifting into a dappled dreamscape of your own imagination, your poetic souls entwine against astrological odds. Libra is an Air sign and Pisces is a Water sign; together you can stir a gentle sea breeze or drown in your own sexual tsunami. But oh, the romance is worth it. Like any good bodice-ripper, there's passion, intrigue and mystique to spice up this storyline. You can get lost for days in a decadent meal, a gorgeous sonata, each other's luminous eyes. While the cynics gag, they secretly envy your enchanted, oxytocin-addled bliss. Living in a fantasy is fun for your signs, and gratification eclipses all boundaries and structures. Another Sancerre, an hour less sleep—it can all be justified in the name of pleasure. It's when reality steps in that things get hairy. After waking past noon in your umpteenth limb-and-linen tangle, you remember that pesky paycheck, your stuffed Inbox, the unopened mail. Oops. Hung over and wholly unequipped to deal with the overwhelm, you lash out at each other. Without outside contact and obligations to anchor you, you can both descend into bouts of moodiness, indulgence and even depression. Balance—the Libra catchphrase—must be practiced early on.

[ivendarea]

The Nathras

Making the Most out of Life

Banner art based on and supported by my Patrons ♥

The Nathras are at home by Ivendarea’s north-western shores and islands and one of the more reclusive population groups. Sticking to themselves and feeling a little detached from the events in the south and east of the nation, they are fairly independent, but a warm, creative, and community-oriented people nonetheless. In ancient times the Nathras used to be mostly nomads, but they also had small semi-permanent settlements along the northern shores, one of them developing into the city Westpoint.

Table of Contents:

Culture and History

Cultural Heritage

Language and Dialect

Shared Values

Common Etiquette

Major Organizations

Fashion

Art and Architecture

Ideals

Beauty Ideals

Courtship Ideals

Relationship Ideals

Continue reading below or on World Anvil

[Support the Ivendarea Project on Patreon]

Culture and History Isolated in Ivendareas northwest, yet still at the frontier and open to the world, the Nathras make up one of the more unique Ivendarean population groups. Not really fitting in with their own people, still proud of their Nyr heritage, they make the best of any situation and oppurtunity.

Cultural Heritage In ancient times the Nathras were predominantly fishermen. They were also the first to build ships and attempt to set sail to foreign shores (with mixed results). With the spread of Aman’s Teachings and more and more people becoming part of this new religion, the Nathras felt increasingly threatened in their way of life. While embracing any new knowledge, some of the rules proposed by Aman, such as not eating fish and meats, or hunting and fishing for food and leather, the Nathras struggled to adapt without any new means to sustain themselves in the cold north with infertile earth. Groups such as the Wylaai, who also had to deal with a too harsh environment for farming, received and embraced the support of southern communities to artificially create fertile land. The Nathras though were more hesitant to give up on their established way of life.

Until today there are many Nathras who call themselves devout followers of Aman’s Teachings while still continuing their traditional trade of fishing.

Despite their isolation, the Nathras were accidental ambassadors for their whole nation on two occasions. Both the Aapha of Darthonis and the Kitu from far away Drua Shye landed first on their shores. So while they are a little bit detached from the main portion of their continent, they are rather connected to dealings with the outside world and developed into versed traders.

Trade is actually spoken more commonly in Westpoint, the capital of the region, than any other language including Nyrval. Currently Westpoint also calls Ivendarea’s largest trade harbour its own, and to the outside world the Nathras enjoy a reputation of being the most laid-back and open-minded of the Nyr. Language and Dialect The accent of the Nathras is considered “flat” and a little monotonous combined with speaking rather fast. Since most Nathras speak Trade more commonly than Nyrval, elements of both languages are mixed into the other, creating a rather unique colour, sound, and vocabulary.

Shared Values Living conditions in the north are comparatively harsh, with unpredictable cold and storms, therefore it is important to the Nathras communities to be adaptable and keep a watchful eye. Courage is one of the most-taught virtues, and unselfish devotion is the most important service one could offer for the community.

The Nathras have a very relaxed view on life and death. Death is not the end of all things, and sometimes a noble sacrifice is necessary to prevent greater evils from happening. Life on the other hand is meant for joy. While not scared of hard work, a rather laid-back attitude is common in the northern villages.

The Nathras work to live, not the other way around. Also, not many would openly call themselves religious, but subconsciously many of their social conventions are actually tightly connected to the beliefs of the Aman’a Valeethi, and most do believe in the gods. They just don’t make a big deal out of it and don’t tend to pry into other people’s business. Accepting differences in regards to politics and religion is essential to the Nathras, particularly because as a people of traders they often have to deal with travellers and outsiders.

Similar to the Wylaai the Nathras are also known to be rather hospitable, and they enjoy fun and entertainment. Westpoint, the settlement with the highest percentage of Nathras among its population, is home to an arena where people can measure their strength in public battles for the entertainment ofma crowd and some coin. All on a voluntary basis of course.

Common Etiquette As much as the Nathras enjoy being part of a devoted community, they expect everyone within the community to contribute something, even if it is just a symbolic gesture. If everyone helps together to get unpleasant things done, the faster it is possible to devote oneself to the beautiful things in life again. While they have a rather relaxed relationship with death, it is not well-liked to talk ill of the dead. In fact, remembering them in a positive light is very important and if not in the local temple, at least in the deceased’s home a small space or shrine is dedicated to their memory.

Entertainment and hospitality are so important that it is rude to refuse an invitation or gifts. Furthermore, no food or drink should be wasted, it should be shared, re-purposed, or donated, never thrown away. The same goes for basically everything else, too: before throwing it out, consider if it could be of use for someone else or for a different purpose. And should someone unexpectedly gain riches, it is expected of them to invest into the community, not hoard their money.

Major Organizations Less an organization but still one of the major institutions in Westpoint, the Arena is the city’s centre of entertainment. No matter if as a spectator betting on contestants, or by entering the ring oneself, it is also a popular place to earn extra coin without big commitments.

Fashion The Nathras will wear their clothes until they’re literally falling apart - and then they’ll fix them as best as they can, use parts of different articles of clothing to make a new one, or find a new purpose for them. Nathras fashion is rugged and wayward, unconventional at best and questionable sometimes too. Influences from a variety of cultures and eras can be found in everyday clothing, the motto is: do what you like.

While most prefer practical clothing that doesn’t get in the way and is comfortable, there is not much the Nathras would frown upon in terms of colour and material combinations. Compared to most other groups of Nyr across the nation, the Nathras in particular prefer more fitted clothing and trousers over the flowing robes, wide sleeves, and huge scarves seen more often in central, southern, and western Ivendarea. Remarkably they are also the only group that very commonly wears clothing made of animal materials such as leather or bone. They don’t tend to make these clothes from scratch, but if a rich Assadin merchant throws out a still decent leather coat, it is going to be re-purposed and worn rather than wasted.

A Nathras worker dressed in a colourful mix of clothes from various cultures and second-hand items is wearing body paint and striking piercings. The woollen scarf has seen better days but was decorated with colourful pearls and pebbles found near Westpoint’s shores. The typically Assadin-style riding boots are commonly worn by soldiers and might have been won in the arena. The trousers are a patchwork of different materials, and the warm Aapha coat’s buttons don’t match, but the fur-lining certainly helps against the cold winter winds. 

Art & Architecture The Nathras’ architecture is exactly as patchwork as one might think when looking at their clothing. Building materials are rare, everything is reused several times. Stones of crumbling ruins are turned into the foundation of a new family home, the wooden beams of sunken ships are salvaged, cleaned, and thoroughly dried, then used for building furniture. Driftwood is integrated into the buildings as are rocks dug up in fields. Some houses are built directly into the sides of cliffs where possible. There’s no limit to creativity in terms of housing. In Westpoint in particular nautical elements such as rope and even used fishing nets find their way into people’s homes and gardens. An old steering wheel makes an interesting dinner table.

The Nathras are inventive and creative, and they are known to have an eye for design and beauty. Creating jewellery and all sorts of petty wares and haberdashery from whatever they lie their hands on, their markets are a true paradise for everyone looking to spruce up their wardrobe or buy a unique piece of artwork. Known to have patience and a calm hand Nathras also have a reputation of creating particularly intricate and huge mosaics, incorporating them into their buildings and artwork. They find and create beauty in everything.

Ideals

Beauty Ideals Individuality is beauty, as is creativity and devotion to a cause... and all is subjective. Colourful body paint and makeup emphasizing the body’s anatomy - curves, muscles, tendons, and bone structure - are popular. Hair is adorned with little trinkets, natural or glass pearls, worn in braids, decorated or held together with colourful pieces of fabric, or flowing freely. A positive outlook on life, no matter the difficulties, is considered attractive.

Courtship Ideals Courtship is playful and passionate. Fun and experimenting are important, experiencing small adventures together and getting to know each other during those times. Directness is appreciated, as well as creativity in the way one is wooed, bold and brave is better than following strict traditions and social conventions.

Relationship Ideals It is rather unusual for the Nathras to begin living in a committed relationship in young years. Exploration and adventure are important before settling down, otherwise unrest might cause tension in the relationship later on. On-off-relationships are quite common, where couples cross paths several times before finally deciding to settle down together - if at all. Many actually never settle down, have children with several partners if they want them, and continue to live life relatively independently. It is very common among the Nathras that children are raised by several adults, related to them or not, rather than specific parents. The community is one big family that looks after each other, and its needs stand above individual relationships.

[Read on World Anvil]

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[scazza-scarletti]

Guide to Galar: Predictions & Theories! (also a quick guide to British mythology?)

I’m hella stoked to see Britain get portrayed in a pokemon game and watching the trailer I was thrilled to see so many cultural landmarks!

Nothing has been confirmed yet, but I wanted to make a quick guide based on the information we have to far guessing what the locations are going to based on (and maybe even some guesses about the games story?).

So, starting from the bottom of the map!

Looks like we’re going to be starting off in a small rural town surrounded by a patchwork of field (no shortage of those in Britain), with an island on the left and a big forest on the right.

The river running through the town interests me because there’s an island in the lake. Given the games will be called ‘Sword and Shield’, I’m thinking there might be some mythology based on the ‘Legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table’.

The game might start with something inspired by the Arthurian mythos, such as the Lady of the Lake (who lives on an mystical island the the middle of a lake, called Avalon) and Excalibur. There are several lakes in Britain (particularly in Wales and the South-West) associated with these myths, such as Dozmary Pool (Cornwall).

As for the Islands on the left, there are several small islands surrounding Britain, like the Isle of Man, and Isle of Wight (there are also many Scottish ones!). There’s not much visual info to go off at the moment so it’s difficult to say at this point.

As for the forest, there are several forests throughout the countries, so again, based on limited information it’s difficult to say.

However (if the Arthur theory is correct) it could be based on the mythical forest of Broceliande. Alternatively it could be like Sherwood Forest (Nottinghamshire), famously associated with the legend of Robin Hood. Other famous British Forest include the New Forest (Hampshire/Wiltshire), Thetford (Norfolk/Suffolk) and Galloway Forrest (Scotland).

Moving on!

Okay so I’m  c o n v i n c e d  this region of the map is based on the Peak District and the Lake District.

The Peak district is a national park in the north of England -  characterised by its highlands and hilly/mountainous areas. The Lake District (have a lucky guess what that’s famous for), is a national park located in Cumbria.

Between these two regions there also appears to be a large stone of some kind. I can’t think of an exact match for this, but it could be inspired by the various Tors (big natural rock formations),which there’re particularly a lot in Devon and Cornwall). Alternatively it could be a formation such as the Old Man of Storr or a man-made formations like the ancient Orkney Standing Stones (both in Scotland).

On to the Middlands (kinda?)

So next we have a big city! The most obvious guess would be London, and that is highly likely given the focal point is a big-ass clock-tower, like Big Ben (aka Elizabeth Tower). The shape and the fact the river runs around it is also reminiscent of the Tower of London!

Although, I can’t hep but feel like the architecture looks very ‘industrial-revolution-esque’, particularly with all the red-brick. This makes me think of cities like Birmingham and Manchester. So maybe some mixed influences here?

(Birmingham has several of red-brick Victorian buildings like this)

To the left of this city, appears to be a rocky area, which I think could have been inspired by Cheddar Gorge - most famous for cheese!

Its also famous for a legend about a witch!

Wookey Hole, a cave located in Cheddar Gorge, had a creepy looking stalagmite inside, which local folklore says is the remains of a petrified Witch. It does look like there might be a cave on the map, so I really hope this theory turns out to be correct! (I <3 witches)

(the infamous Wookey Hole Witch)

There is also a town surrounded by yellow fields, which I guess are either wheat or oil seed rape (unfortunate name, i know).

This also appears to be the location of this thing:

So, this is based on the various ‘Hill Figures’ which are found in several locations around the UK. Horses and men are among the most common images. This practise is believed to date back to ancient times, however the only ones visible, that have survived until today, are only a few hundred years old.

(’Rube Man’ or the Cerne Abbas, in Dorset. believed to date back to around the 17th Century.)

True British heritage is carving a giant man with his dick-out into the side of a hill and I think that’s beautiful.

Moving on, to the right of the city looks like a valley with a railway-line running through it. This could be based on the Glenfinnan Viaduct, located on the West Highland Line (Scotalnd). This was the bridge they use for the Hogwarts Express in the Harry Potter movies! 

There is some more stuff on the left, which looks like a valley or field and a seaside town, but its difficult to make out the details so it could be anywhere.

Moving on...

Sweet, another city! Although its not immediately obvious to me what this one is based on. It looks very industrial so maybe Birmingham or Manchester - or even Edinburgh. Honestly this one has stumped me a little bit, so I’ll just wait for a bit more info on this one!

To the left it looks like this might be where the mines are!

Britain used to have a big mining culture, especially in certain regions (e.g. the North of England, Wales and Scotland). Many closed in the 1970s, so there only a handful still in operation today and they have now been largely industrialised with machinery. 

Most mines in the UK are/were for fossil fuels or metals, rather than gems, but I don’t blame Pokemon for making that amendment!

(This is a copper mine in Anglesey, Wales - which i think vaguely could resemble the one on the map). 

Behind the mines (or what i think are the mines) looks like another forest, so I’m going to keep the same guesses as I had for the other one.

On the right, there’s a hilly coastal area, with a building on it. Maybe its a coastal ruin of a castle like, Tintagel (Cornwall) or Hastings (Sussex), although its hard to make out so that’s just a guess.

Above that, it look like a snowy, inlet-y coastal town! Very reminiscent of the island-y areas of Scotland! Maybe somewhere like Stornoway...

Now that big wall and the rock next to it that looks suspiciously like a volcano! Britain has no active volcano’s, but does have several dormant ones, particularly in Scotaland.

The one on the map looks a bit like it could be Arthur's Seat, a volcano located close to Edinburgh (possibly supporting that the city next to it is meant to be Edinburgh) .Back to Arthurian mythology again; the mountain range is one of the suggested locations of the legendary kingdom of Camelot! 

On the map, its unclear if the wall is part of the volcano/mountain range, or if its a wall in its own right.

It could represent Hadrian’s Wall, built by the Roman’s in 124 AD, (to keep the Scots out of England/Britannia!). The wall is a lot shallower then the one on the Galar map though, and it doesn’t really look like it, but it could still be the inspiration.

Okay last section!

So this entire top area is very snowy and mountain-y. I think its safe to say this is mostly inspired by Scotland, which is usually a lot colder and has rougher terrain than down south in England (they call them the ‘highlands for a good reason’). 

Britain’s highest mountain, Ben Nevis is located in Scotland, as well as several other mountain ranges. Inspiration could have also been taken from the mountains of Snowdonia, in Wales.

As for the city itself, it looks like its going to be a very important (probs where the champion league equivalent will be), but I can’t confidently identify any recognisable landmarks on the picture.

There looks like another smaller Big Ben-inspired building to the side, but the central feature is tall spiral tower, which I don’t recognise (the closest thing  I can think of is the Orbit Tower - from the London 2012 Olympics - although I’m not entirely convince this is what it’s meant to be...).

Well that’s about all we have to go off for now!

Sorry if this was a bit rambley, I just got so excited to see that they're representing so many different places! Sometimes I feel like Britain just gets reduced to London - which is a shame because the natural landscape of the isles are so varied and rich with culture and folklore!

I really hope Sword and Shield take lots of inspiration from the myths. I would love it if the King Arthur inspired story turned out to be true!

Anyway, I guess we’l just have to wait and see~

[atlasweaversmoroccanrugs]

A Guide To Styling Moroccan Rugs - 3 Simple Tips

The idea of redesigning and redecorating your home is always a welcome notion, especially if you’ve been staring at the same old rearrangement for years. While collecting little trinkets to display can help transform your spaces, nothing quite compares to the magic a statement piece can bring—such as a Moroccan rug. 

  These must-have pieces come in various sizes, patterns, and colors, all of which reflect more than just style. They depict thousands of years old tradition and culture, which reflect the artist’s tribal life, beliefs, and other forms of art. They also come in numerous types, hailing from the tribes of Berber, down to the Azilal. All these are made to be versatile, making it the perfect addition to any home. 

If you’re looking to invest in a piece soon, styling your place with a Morrocan rug should come with a little preparation. That said, here are a few tips to ensure your interior design plan stays foolproof:

Tip #1: Don’t be afraid to play with patterns and colors 

The best thing about Moroccan rugs is that they come in various patterns, but most of them are minimal in design. If you already have a statement rug with intricate and bold designs, you can easily pair it with a more neutral rug, or perhaps even furniture pieces for the perfect balance. 

If you’re truly looking to switch things up a bit, however, don’t be afraid to match your statement rugs with equally eye-catching pillows, velvet sofas, wooden coffee tables, and even art wall pieces. Ultimately, however, your design will boil down to personal taste and preference—whatever your choice may be, don’t be afraid to embrace it!

Tip #2: Layer things up

If you can’t get enough of rugs, fret not—layering is now the latest trend. Moroccan rugs can easily be mixed and matched, allowing you to create an even more comfortable and cozy atmosphere. More importantly, however, you make sure to accomplish a more textured room, one that adds a little more spice and a touch of personality.

If you own a more neutral carpet, stack it up with bold colors and vivid patterns. Your layering shouldn’t stop there, either. Create a patchwork of rugs, and mix your Moroccan rugs away! You’ll be left with an eclectic look, one that simply cannot be replicated.

Tip #3: Style them everywhere 

While it’s logical to have Moroccan rugs grace your living rooms and entertainment areas, Moroccan rugs can be styled anywhere. They’ll easily blend well into any room, always adding a touch of color in various ways. Your dining room area could be adorned with a Beni Ourain, serving as a tapestry to keep food stains away. 

Your children’s playroom can benefit from a Berber rug, adding an extra layer of cushion for protection. Your bedroom, on the other hand, can now be outfitted with a reading nook with a good vintage Moroccan rug. There are just a few options, so allow your imagination to run wild.

The Bottom Line

While most seem to be naturally gifted when it comes to interior design, you don’t have to be—especially if you’re working with Moroccan rugs. They’re incredibly versatile and flexible, as they are statement pieces that don’t need much work. They can be used in any room for every function, and the only thing you need to think about is your personal preferences.

For the best Moroccan rugs, allow Atlas Weavers to help. We are a fair trade artisan project, dedicated to supplying the world with the wonder of authentic Moroccan rugs. Order your new favorite pieces today!

source https://atlasweavers.com/blogs/news/a-guide-to-styling-moroccan-rugs-3-simple-tips

[nitratestock]

One by one, like a painful slow drip from a finite source, we lose people to time, people who contributed positively to the world in ways political, artistic, scientific. One by one. Considering the sum total is simply too great, we need stagger. For those who share my year of birth by a margin of three years give or take on either side, we’ve been lucky. Lucky in the sense that the stagger has been long and wide. Over the last decade we’ve lost some important people, particularly important to our early life, the exit of our single digits and the early part of our teens. Early on I was crushed by the death of Sidney Lumet, in 2011, a giant of the film community. I wrote about his passing back then, at the point of worst emotional pain, as bad as one can feel without being a family member or close friend. Since then we’ve lost Cimino. We’ve lost Nichols. We’ve lost Varda. We’ve lost Akerman. We’ve lost Hooper and Romero. As we brine in our Gen X jar, we unfortunately transition from sniper fire to machine gun spray. Legato becomes staccato. People of my age group watch in horror as heroes depart. It’s no different of any other age group, perhaps only more enhanced by the increased prevalence of mass media over the course of the last century and into ours. Distance and folklore becomes nearness and screens. In either case we involve ourselves in the lives of others, in ways good and bad. At worst we connect through this urge to pillory those who are guilty of our very same sins. At best, we mourn the passing of a public figure we’ve come to acknowledge, without their knowledge, as a friend. Hopefully out of benevolent interest, that last part.

So I say with the melancholy of a film fanatic that came of age in the 80’s and the heft of a life, if averages count, mostly lived at this point, that the recent passing of one Alan Parker left me despondent. Perhaps not for the fate of the world, but definitely for the fate of film as a malleable form that might struggle with the twin purposes of art and commerce and succeed somehow. Film fanatics, or as I prefer to refer to myself and others, Cinegeeks, often find themselves drawn to figures within the film world considered 2nd or 3rd tier interviews, whose body of work might contain two or three masterpieces amongst a body of mediocrity, or who might have a mostly or even highly successful box office record but never get critical acclaim. Fanatics like to champion the underdog. It’s our nature. To a degree Alan Parker found himself in this category. Partially because his CV didn’t fit neatly into the Auteur Theory folder. Partially because he didn’t play the normal Hollywood game. It’s sometimes overlooked that the boldest outsiders during that New Hollywood era knew how to play the studio/PR angle and did so like sawing a harp from hell. I’m looking at YOU, Coppola and Scorsese.

Parker had artistic ambitions, some would even say pretentious ambitions, and yet I defy anyone to observe his body of work and not see a blue-collar hardscrabble mentality etching away at the base of all his films. He failed sometimes, but in all endeavors he struggled not just to ensure proper light diffusion, but to connect the audience to the scene that was unfolding and the characters within all of that art direction and brilliant cinematography. In his debut feature, the cult classic BUGSY MALONE, he invited audiences to indulge in the lark of basically watching an updated Little Rascals film as whipped-cream St. Valentine’s massacre. With an infectious soundtrack by Paul Williams. And it worked and still works. In MIDNIGHT EXPRESS, he sought nothing less than to put you through the Turkish prison system at its most barbaric. And damn, did he succeed. In FAME, he sought to enroll you in La Guardia High, the School for the Performing Arts, partially ushered in by one Mr. Lumet, and he brought you into the NYC streets to join the dance. In SHOOT THE MOON, he dragged you through the broken glass and nails that is a brutal divorce. Most critics still feel it’s the film that’ll never be topped on that topic. And yeah. It’s punishing to this day.

That’s just his first four films. He followed MOON in the same year with his cinematic distillation of PINK FLOYD’S THE WALL, as ambitious, reckless, insane, obtuse and inspiring as any art film dared to be. He waged one of the bravest, constant battles between the band, their label, his studio and the inevitable lash or backlash from the critics and the crowds as any director dared in that decade, which had now, even by 1992, belonged to Reagan and Thatcher’s crowd. It worked, it was a success on its own terms. It stood with QUADROPHENIA as one of the few successful adaps of a “RockOpera” to screen. And it would serve as an insanely influential piece of cinema/album mashup. I can’t think of another film that’s even attempted to match it to this day.

Parker’s true gift was that of exploration, and this was evinced by his sojourn from cinematic genre to cinematic genre. Like great directors before him, he felt the need to examine and exult in them all. He turned after 1982’s twin trials to what many referred to as William Wharton’s “un-filmable” novel. Parker found a way to film it, and in the process crafted a minor masterpiece, and the first film in his American Gothic trilogy. BIRDY is about so many things; the horror of war, the futility of grand romantic dreams, the last days of glorious, unweighted childhood. It succeeds in all those ambitions, but what it is squarely about is the healing power of friendship, of that bond between brothers that even the trauma of battle cannot best. He accomplished this in two different time periods and two different venues; the 60’s early and late, as disparate as a decade could get from itself; then the wide, economically depressed funland expanse of post-WW2 Brooklyn, against the claustrophobic, chiaroscuro lit cell of the VA, where the only shadow to hide within lies beneath the mottled cot. All of Parker’s CV can be described as character studies of one form or another. Here he began a three film sojourn into America’s pockets, its secret soul and even its original sins. He’d leave the punishing abandonment of what once was the City of Brooklyn as it stood circa 1962, for a far more insidious and painful abandonment, one of a whole swath of the country and of its stolen populace.

ANGEL HEART was ostensibly a mashup of horror and noir, a neat trick that any successful director would’ve been drawn to, especially in the MTV 80’s, a music video era (greatly inspired by directors like Parker, I might add) that found itself drawing on the tropes of past cinema genres in a highly stylized way. The synopsis implies a simple morality tale, a private eye hired by a seemingly nefarious talent agent to track down the client who’s eluded him. Perhaps by supernatural means. Parker expanded on the location by quickly resetting the action from Brooklyn to New Orleans, after a quick trip through Harlem. White culture has to answer to and for black culture in America, and Parker employed this almost caricature smoke-and-topcoat shamus to do this investigation. There is great butchery in ANGEL HEART, which I’ve always believed reps the butchery of slavery and the Jim Crow era. There are bold implications and terrible consequences for what we now term “cultural appropriation”, from Johnny Favorite’s Depression-era crooner stealing from black artists to the Krusemark’s adoption of the patchwork voodoo religion. Above all, there is guilt. There is a clear through line, as clear as Capt. Willard’s river to Kurtz, toward White America’s brutality, ongoing. Harry is our surrogate, should we choose. He goes on his own journey of discovery that becomes, unwittingly and surely unwillingly, one of SELF-discovery. His final manic, desperate denial is the same as any who enjoy white privilege to this day while at the same time being wholly unaware of it: I know who I am. If ANGEL HEART is the one he’s going to be remembered for, I believe it’s this subtext, unplanned or otherwise, that will allow it the test of time well over the brilliant cinematography and perhaps Mickey Rourke’s finest performance. Parker would next attempt to expand on this subtext and present it as text, with very, VERY mixed reactions.

MISSISSIPPI BURNING was a project begun with noble intent, I believe. In an era where white men still got to tell the black narrative in America. While I forgive a lot of the film’s dramatic license, I fully agree with its detractors as well. 1988 was a tipping point for tone-deafness in the film industry. Had Parker made BURNING a decade or so prior, it might enjoy a better rep in the context of its time. The end of the 80’s demanded better. I’m a fan of this film, as a film, not as a history. In the same way I’m a fan of well-crafted cinematic narratives that have dated very poorly. The tragedy of MISSISSIPPI BURNING is not just that he made so well-crafted a film at a point in the timeline when something more inclusive, honest, and better representative of history was possible, it’s that he chose fiction for fiction’s sake. Nevertheless, it was the second and final Oscar nomination for direction he’d receive.

Parker remained in this wheelhouse of American guilt for 20th century wrong-doing. COME SEE THE PARADISE was an earnest attempt to depict, to REMIND America really, of the awful Japanese internment camps of the WW2 years, the venerable FDR’s greatest sin. At the height of his filmmaking powers he was unerring in his balance between stylistic pursuit and substance. Alas, with this effort and his previous, glow softened suffer, and the heart of the tale proved elusive as a result.

Maybe he had a moment of clarity then, after these ambitious but perhaps stultifying efforts, and decided to return to a genre that had stood him in good stead. Parker turned to the homespun Celtic kick of Roddy Doyle and decided to create a real-life soul/funk/r&b band from scratch for THE COMMITMENTS, which most will agree is his last great film, though his later fare has its champions, and fair play to them. For a director so well known for his meticulous prep and focus he fared incredibly well in filming wild abandon. Maybe it was a mode he needed to consciously shift into gear for, but once there he cooked quite a stew. The film delighted both critics and audiences, and also helped re-start a soul music resurgence, helped in no little way by the film’s pre-fab ensemble, who’d take to the road for a series of live shows with various members of the celluloid iteration in tow. Some might argue that he retreated to a stance that shied from his previous inquiries regarding the separation of cultures white and other, and the theft perpetrated by one on the other, and in doing crafted so populist an entertainment as to render the argument moot. That’s a fair assessment. Some others might argue that a truthful, passionate depiction of people inspired by others different from their living experience, plaintively plying their art, is honest work as well, no matter their skin color. The debate won’t go away. And it shouldn’t. In terms of moviemaking, though, Parker had fired on all cylinders. Perhaps for the last time.

The remaining decade-plus of his work was, in most estimations, workmanlike, with the odd Parker flourish here and there recognizable to his fans. THE ROAD TO WELLVILLE was an eccentric choice as follow-up, and also as navigation through the early days of a new and unsure decade (He’d already travelled the biz director-driven, to producer-driven, and was now in the who-the-hell’s-driving 90’s). It features several fine performances, from recent and deserved Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins to the still-finding-their-way Matthew Broderick and John Cusack, and its huckster-health theme does still resonate, or at least it SHOULD, as well today as then as late 19th century. If it ultimately found no target to spear, it remains a well crafted and intentioned work. EVITA was no sleepwalk-to the-Oscar gig, even though the resulting film is at best assessed as a dreamily-hued mess. Parker took on the challenge of a legendary broadway smash, one that Hollywood had been desperate to film for well over a decade. A lesser director would’ve turned the camera on and yelled “Sing!”. But Parker was one of the few who’d found success in the post-studio era with one of its warhorse genres, the musical, which had diminished, and decidedly felled such giants as Coppola and Bogdanovich at their peak or near-peak. It’s a noble effort, if it comes up short. It’s not quite empty Oscar-bait, but it’s well shy of a film with a purpose. He either directed or was gifted a great Antonio Banderas perf, and he did his damnedest with Madonna, which is sorta the theme of her career don’t send hate mail. He got a hard-won, decent turn out of her, perhaps not the magnetic dying star that the role demanded, but an actor giving her all. That’s still worth something, even if they’re miscast. For further evidence I direct you toward Matt Damon in THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY.

And here’s the part that I always hate to talk about. Parker was a director who, in my estimation, never sought validation, but always inspiration. It’s the source of his greatest works, and they remain some of the greatest of the post-studio years. He took his best swipe at an unlikely best-seller, Frank McCourt’s wildly successful but impossibly depressing ANGELA’S ASHES. Like EVITA, it had “prestige” built into it. Like EVITA, it was a package deal. Like EVITA, the studio expected some love from the Academy at the end of the day. I feel like Parker was thwarted from the start, tasked with this take of utter poverty and despondency while asked to chase the gold. Had the book come out sometime early in his career, had he discovered it and championed it, and then saw it through production and release, we may have been gifted something along the lines of a Ken Loach or even Buñuel at his most honest. The gilt and geld of the Hollywood studios, especially at that time competing with the newly-found prestige of the indies, precluded any chance at that, despite next-level perfs from Stephen Rea and Emily Watson. It’s a not-unworthy effort to seek out, especially if you're a Parker fan, but in some ways it may have signaled his ultimate abandonment of this art form. Maybe he felt he’d said enough. Maybe he felt he wouldn’t be allowed to say his piece on his terms anymore. Maybe he looked ahead at filmmaking in the new millennium and decided he’d not update his passport to this new continent. For reasons we never fully received, Parker was leaving.

His last film would be THE LIFE OF DAVID GALE, an anti-capital punishment screed that felt out of joint, and not due to the lack of effort from its stars, Kate Winslet and Christopher Plummer. But it’s an aimless effort, deprived of any real bite on a subject molten to a wide swath of the citizenry. It was met with mixed box office and mixed reviews. It left with nary a trace. And then, whether we realized it or not, so did Alan Parker.

It seemed to be a welcome retirement. At least in my following of my filmmaker heroes. I don’t believe I saw one item, one gossip piece, about a new Alan Parker project, about a studio extending him an offer on a prestige or even indie film. He popped up as interview subject and fairly frequently, and seemed to enjoy his status as thus. He’d crafted a remarkable body of work, and by all witness enjoyed remarking on it. He occasionally served as mentor, as when Christopher Nolan reached out to him. He’d definitely serve as defense attorney, especially when the subject of Mickey Rourke came up. He absolutely and most magnificently served as beacon to a whole generation of film lovers and future filmmakers, kids who were desperate in the corporate/production team/CAA 80’s to cling to films of their generation they could call their own. At a time when art and the so-called “auteur” was a dirty word in Hollywood he was able to put the work he’d crafted into your head and into your heart. I’m not sure if we’re gonna see another Alan Parker, and he’d be most upset by that notion, but if you’re reading this, and you find this possibility unacceptable, go grab a camera and be another Alan Parker. We’re waiting.

[tedfashionski]

Reality Patch

 (3393 - long read, messy, technically ‘unfinished’ whatever that means)

There was a little bubble of interest in the Miu Miu pre-fall collection in the twitterverse a few weeks (months? years?) back – it seemed torn out of time. Made in the winter, shown to press in January? Viral in the early summer? To be bought..… sometime? Part of the issue is the term ‘pre-fall’. Pretty certain that’s summer. This collection feels like it doesn’t exist. I guess if I ever went shopping, it would make more sense? But as a broke hut-dwelling internet denizen, I’m lost. It’s this money-spinning side to fashion commerce that’s the ‘real’ collection, but it’s named after a non-existent season. The pre-fall/resort problem lies in that it’s the collection that gets the least press, because not normally presented in a show, but also functions more solidly as merchandise. Certain agitators want to eliminate these non-events, and revert to twice-yearly seasons. It’s a fucking mess. What even is this?  The fashion calender is broken and illogical. I’m going to write here about the Marni AW 20 ‘Alice in Wonderland’ collection alongside Moocher’s pre-fall thing, because I’ve got queries about patchwork and they play well together.

 I have …complicated… feelings about the patchwork. We’re probably going to see more and more of it and I’m not sure we’re asking the right questions of it. How do we avoid it becoming just ‘aesthetic’ (in pop speak = empty), rather than a manner of process that informs continual work going forward and results in an un-replicable feeling, a new angle on reality (an….. aesthetic). How to stop it becoming something we all get bored of? Because, the only guarantee in fashion is boredom.

 Patchwork collage

 Miu was a solid offering – it maintains a certain quality, obvs – and is good in its own way according to its own logic as Miuccia’s offerings usually are. A vision of commerce, yes, but also a kaleidoscopic frozen moment of girlhood that wants to aid us in our navigation from then to there, the ‘there’ being an upcoming un-season (A/W/S/S?) and maybe a sense of maturity. Now, there’s no point in me complaining about low quality info from the establishment on their dealings then failing to engage thoroughly with work when it is delivered in detail on multiple fronts (written aspect, full campaign, video that I can’t find anymore but remember seeing unless it was a hallucination, and look book – many angles).

 Embellished bodices/check check/white fuzzy tights/nice shiny heels/19th c take on afghan jacket very good/prairie psycho/much boring merch – (awkward stances suggest candid, ambivalent)

   Miu look book Collage

Our press release ponders:

 ‘When was the last occasion you lived in an enclosed world, where time stretched out, seemingly endlessly, in front of you? When was the last time your interior world felt as important as the exterior one, where you were free to imagine and to contemplate who you might actually want to be? Chances are it was when you were a teenager, with all of the triumphs and trepidations that entailed, particularly if you were a teenage girl.’

 Well, it sure sounds like it sucks to be a real adult who gave up on their dreams. When was the last time I felt free in my internal playground? Every day of my life, bitches. I’m your anomaly, Prada copy-writer. But, point taken. Work sucks when you’re doing it for other people, and we’ve all had times when you feel caught and pinched and empty in our creative attempts. And now, we’ve all been grounded by our stupid parents for the last few months. Stuck in our rooms. Some by choice, some not. And if we’re allowed out right now, the second spike is coming and we’re all depressed about the limits we have to live under in order to reduce advancing death.

 ‘A dream-like, interior world is conjured through Douglas Irvine’s photography to match the external, magical manifestation on display in the clothing. A blur of florals and glittering visual embellishment, diaphanous drape and ecstatic movement belie the strict foundations for both the images and garments.’

 campaign collage

  So far, so wordy and detailed. A world is glimpsed. One with blurs but strict foundations. A real world made hazy. We have classic codes walking in a trepidatious vein. Miu Miu girl is testing out the limits of her horizons, playing with her identity through her clothes and thinking to herself, how much do I want to give away? What will I keep? But the text continues:

 ‘Wearing a clothing collection that splices the utilitarian with the formal, the everyday with the extravagant, delicate artisanal embellishment is contrasted with and applied to a notion of the sturdily homespun. Here, nineteenth century literary heroines, both fictional and actual, are channelled, the sources of teenage-girl bedroom revolutions in both style and substance, yet worn by a new generation of everyday heroines with all of their contrasting clothing choices.’

 We lose track here. Not sure this collection actually feels ‘artisanal’ or ‘sturdily homespun’. there’s the late 20-teens pop refrain of dark psychedelia’s fixation on moth-eaten fin de siècle grandness, the upending of 19th C avant-garde in the counter-culture’s looping democratisation. We have an eclecticism, a thriftiness, a carelessness with the past symptomatic of isolated children playing with a mish-mash of pieces born of hemmed-in theatrics.

 3 MIU PICS

 MORE – CAMPAIGN/POSES/FACES/DESCRIBE CLOTHES – here comes what night?. Colour, focus. Don’t really like the clothes, wouldn’t wear any of this tbh.

 CAMPAIGN PICS coll

  As for Marni’s Alice in Wonderland, I have languishing notes which seem as old and tired as the idea of 2019. I was practising twitter threadiness, and got as far as notes on Milan before the covid freeze set in my mind. I like mixed responses, it’s the only thing that feels fair, but with those Milan collections I couldn’t achieve any sort of resolution or clear point. I didn’t know how I felt anymore. I’m unresolved in how I feel about criticism. It should be functional, but not necessarily constructive, if I feel the need to tear something down, as a critic that is within my job description. I’ll write a proper bit on the perils of fashion criticism from a distance, but in short I feel that it’s unfair to criticise a designer’s work from afar, especially negatively, but that until the fashion community realises the value of a public culture of critique (criticism being the only process by which you can hope to form an art system), real critics engaged with honestly parsing the strengths and weaknesses of fashion practice in service of public health will have to criticise from afar. This will impact the quality of the work, but it is hoped the audience can accept the pinch of salt required of virtual critique of a virtual fashion experience. The subject of the criticism here isn’t the clothes. I’m not asking questions of fit, of quality, I’m asking whether this is good fashion communication, as a time-dependent media phenomenon.  And, yes, I know I’m late on this one. Temporal fashion stress must take a rain check at present.

 Marni –

“collaged from the beginning to the end—from macro to micro to fractal. It’s about putting together remnants.”

 cut velvet woven by hand in a factory in Venice on looms that were originally designed by Leonardo da Vinci—a vanishing, time-consuming craft that Risso understandably wants to “protect and exalt.”

 “Are we in a psychedelic world and we need to be more grounded, or are we in a caged world and we need to be freed by psychedelia?”

  THREE MARNI

 risso Quotes:

“Finding beauty in the leftovers,”

“There’s a beauty in the past. I was kind of upset lately, thinking about people on their phones -- what about these objects that take hours to make, like these Venetian tapestries?”.                          mosaic of the remnants.

new, conceptual territory,

remnants of the previous collections

“It’s a celebration of DIY, Alice in Wonderland, and it’s about her spirit, her searching and questioning,”

the Cheshire Cat’s “We’re all mad here” mantra, as he talked about mandalas and allowing time for ideas to grow.

“Her spirit is within each creature, always wondering and questioning,”

“Making this collection has been the strangest mystery,” he confided. “It’s almost as if it regenerated itself – recreated itself – like an insatiable mosaic.”

 THREE MARNI

  At their best they’re the insatiable fractal mosaic he speaks of – something that situates you betwixt density and freedom. Was patchy – moments of clarity, moments of aimlesslness.. Appreciate the fashion-as-curious-adventure methodology. Ties and openness and rotation were true to Marni.. Materials – twisted tradition meeting rational plain cottons hit the mark. Gold rings, like they’ve melted through from another dimension. They were scattered over the body, but I was left wanting to know more of this motif – what if it become structural, like a portal to another plane? Patchwork that doesn’t feel done in good faith. Like a trick. None of these shapes are done in the spirit of patchwork, like the wrong kind of luxury. Too much care is given to appearing careless, but a reach for dizzying angles in effect sidelines affect – it feels tidily resolved, and then mussed around at the end. I’m probably wrong on many fronts about the reality of their process. But what I’m feeling right now is that if all you’re aiming for is the ‘look’ of patched pieces rather that the ‘ethic’ or process of thrift, then you’ll just get trapped in an endless empty labyrinth of false choices. It’s not about the look, it’s about shiftinG your total parameters of design decision making going forward. Additive.

  I’m still figuring out how I feel about this. Both these collections suffer from a neat, pat resolution of the question of the deadstock aesthetic that avoids the hard work of engaging with the limitations of that mode of work. Where is the tension? Where is the sacrifice? The loss of freedom in thrift must be acknowledged. If you’re telling me a story about a lost girl in a crazy world that makes no sense, why do her questions of her physical environment feel so impersonal? Many designers are going to turn to patchworking, out of both necessity and fashion gameplaying. Each designer is going have to work their way to an individual conversation with the difficult questions of recycling while avoiding the traps of the easy way out. Both teams failed at this test, in these collections. Sustainability isn’t easy, or anywhere close to being properly engaged with by our establishment figures. (Viktor & Rolf are a good example of recycling feeling right and thought about and cared for).

 Viktor&Rolf samples

  I’m reading Lolita at the moment. (CAN YOU TELL?)  I’m not a good reader. (CAN YOU TELL?)  A.D.D., I guess. I get bored and drift off to fantasyland. But here’s a stab at some fancypants analysis: The far-off subject, Lolita herself, is overlooked by the narrator’s masturbatory myopia. Her exploration of her own girlhood/womanhood is reduced and flattened by her abuser who needs her to be something else, something thing-y. A two-dimensional being. The tension between predation and autonomy, her wounded rebellion and navigation of self are so distant in the book you can’t help but want to reach out to her, through her abuser’s hideous twisted lens. Humbert’s POV colours everything, Lolita isn’t permitted her own take, everything she does is ridiculous and gazed down upon, he feels he’s permitted to just take her, to prioritise his own long-abated lust without thought of the consequences to her sense of self.

 This vibe I’m analysing here, the bruised and fuzzy self-discovery of Miu Miu and the lost-play of Marni, kind of feels like it hasn’t really shrugged off the top-down, hidden, extractive gaze of the cornered, self-pitying male power player. Maybe the viewer is Humbert. Maybe I’m Humbert. Maybe you’re Lolita. Maybe vice versa. But he’s there, in the corner, or taking the picture. Someone’s always taking it in, and jealously building a crypto-fantasy version of the girl, even as our self-birthing adolescent is feeling towards a way to fight it off.

 campaign

 Spring 2020 was a fucking twisted, disorienting, stretched moment. Tough times for fashion practitioners, not just in terms of lost profits or mob moralising (pppeoppllle arree dyyinnnngggg howww daree you talkkkk aboutttt fashioonnnn) but in the nuts and bolts of fashion practice – if the role of the fashion designer is to collaborate with their wearers in plotting a path to the future, when a world-re-orienting catastrophe occurs, it rapidly recontextualises their attempts at constructing a scaffold around the unknown. The idea that the future can be planned for and known through schedules and aesthetic anticipation gets rumbled. The foundation of that building site got a bit cracked during this Spring’s quake. Mapped onto ongoing structural issues in, what I guess in this analogy is a renovation of our historic temporal orientation casino, basically fashion collapsed in its usual confidence along with the economy (economics being fashion with numbers and no fun so it’s respectably masc. vom). Who knows who’s going to go out of business. There may not be a Miu Miu or a Marni or whoever in the future. Names we take for granted are just going to die. That’s a loss for the art aspect. Cus these guys are creative, mad geniuses who deserve a healthy context for their vision. (OTOH: die, fashion industry, die! I dance in the glow of the flames of your destruction with gleeee). These two collections actually speak to me across the span of the last six months, which takes some doing. They succeeded in the criteria that we should actually apply to fashion practice: satnav for the social soul. As sense of protection from the twists of time. A hand to hold. Someone to talk to. And time is super twisty rn. Good job holding on as we fall through the looking glass, random Italians! Now, to work.

 COLLAGE

 Colours – piecework – slippery glistening rainbow lensflares – Marni, FR places himself as an agent of chaos, someone with a hidden explanation refusing to submit to logic and set ways, a spanner in the works of Alice’s complacency.

 Patchwork, rhizomatic? (????, what is that. Idk, just sounds funnnn), no beginning and end, things relating to one another in disjointed, flexible ways. FR gives is little hints at the instability that patching offers, the early looks in Miu are far too comfortable. In the cut, sheets are formed out of set shapes – traditional, in the spirit of that half-remembered literary heroine – but neat, very very neat. Happy patchwork . Not patchwork that’ll prompt you to any alternative engagement with your world. FR is poking holes, even burning them out with molten gold, playing with the limits of ‘traditional’ or easily molded pieces. There’s skirts that feature block pieces - an armhole, a curve that any dressmaker will recognise, but set elsewhere, surrounded by other pieces so that the shaping becomes as redundant as Alice’s desperate attempts to right her upside down world. That ordered, shaping impulse is pawed at in the Marni work, but indulged in by Miu Miu. Our Miu Miu heroine feels more like an only slightly misunderstood brat, but Marni’s Alice is strung out and barely even human anymore. I’m disappointed in both approaches, but Marni, as the radically abstract collection that’s pushing concept on us, is the one that actually fails in its aims. Mrs Prada & Co are aware of the limits of commercial offerings. They’re happy to speak when permitted, in the lulls between commerce. It’s pragmatic and unadventurous, romantic within set bounds. It’s a walk in the park, where Marni is a clumsy trip through an open manhole cover.

 COLLAGE

 I said at the beginning of this that if we’re only going to see more patchwork as a process we actually have to grapple with it, and there’s a risk at this point in fashion that the fashion people (c’est moi aussi, mfs) are going to go ‘oh, been there, done that, on to the next thing’ without ever actually engaging with it as a means of creating fashion. What does (BRANDNAME) recycling look like, what makes it (BRANDNAME) in a way that become part of a lexicon long term rather than another sticky-plaster? Patchworking is many things, but what are its fundamentals? It’s a way of forming textile surfaces that accepts that which is available. It’s humble and more concerned with ethics than end result. The small squares/triangles in traditional American quilting are ways to systematically optimise waste pieces and merge them with other pieces. This in its own turn creates more micro-waste, perhaps to be used as stuffing, but forcing scraps into legible grids is very strict and imperial, the grid being an easy way of organising a surface from above. Grids and precise geometries are more like things overlaid, not bubbling up from beneath. They’re simple and readily comprehensible. There’s other forms of merging irregular pieces: think of rag-rug like textiles, crocheting with strips, or applique. Certain aesthetic choices can be made when you’re actually working with the idea of recycling waste material, rather than looking for an end-result before you even started. A cut piece has an end but with patchwork it can become endless. There’s kind of something anti-hierarchical about it. Waste pieces formed out of negative space can relate to each other not in the sense of ‘this looks pretty’ but more in the sense of ‘spontaneity rules’.

 I’m realllly self-consciousness about existing in the purgatory between between fashion and theory. Theory thinking of itself as ‘too serious’ for fashion and fashion of itself ‘too fun’ for complex discussion (sidebar: can we stop talking about showstudio as if it is in any way innovative? I can’t watch those videos. I have classic fashion goldfishitis. Where is my colour and jazziness and silly nonsense. Why tf do fashion people think ‘oh, critique! must be unfashion. Must sit in room being boring with no cuts or editing. Here, watch a fucking zoom call, fuck your need for beauty.’ The motherfuckers are working against us. Hate, Hate, Hate, you fucking jerks). So, my difficulty lies in how to dodge the hierarchical perception of theorising, people assuming you’re talking down rather than across, when they’re often dyslexic or disinterested in this kind of stuff because they’ve been taught to think it’s ‘beyond’ them or it’s just some bullshit they’ve found boring/embarrassing/trauamatizing. There’s nothing wrong with finding something boring when it’s engaging in elitist and hierarchical perceptions of ‘intellctualismsm’ or ‘quality’. There’s so much work to do, so much rubble to excavate. I’m not writing about Deleuze & Guattari’s analyses of patchwork for a reason here: I haven’t read them. I attempted A Thousand Plateaus in undergrad, gave up, and since then have really struggled with this feeling of being caught between modes of being - visual/verbal/temporal. Fashion zonked, theory enraged. I have a deep respect for the communicative power of dress and fashion media, paired with immense frustration at the slight engagement with complexity in the culture. Theorizing can be colourful, can be fun, can be bright. Fashion doesn’t need to abandon these wonderful things in order to have some self-respect. In fact, its self-respect will only be assured when it learns to push forward towards aggravating, complex dialectics in its own styles of discourse that fashion people actually want to engage with. I expect at some point within the next decade I’ll find a way to develop my self-confidence in reading beyond wikipedia and want to return properly to the topic of quilting and patchwork in relation to rhizomes and abstract post-structural philosophy, but I’m not there yet. Maybe there’s nothing there in D&G, just hot air, or maybe fashion isn’t worthy of theorising. Both suck in various ways. I’m not confident enough in the theory realm to interact with any self-assurance in a way that computes in both worlds. I’m only just learning to piece myself back together after trying to work within fashion’s established methods and failing. I’m here slowly feeling my way towards engaging properly as a dedicated reader and a dedicated fashion practitioner. But the responsibility to push forward and make fashion practice sufficiently rigorous, self-reflexive, critical and engaged with other fields while playing to its own strengths as discipline that actually brings something to the table, without the solidarity of peers engaged in the same questions, it gets a bit disorienting sometimes.

[movies-are-magic]

Jupiter Ascending - pt. 3

You can find the other parts here:

part 1 part 2

WARNING: Contains heavy spoilers. If you have not seen the movie, chances are that this text will be difficult to understand.

Jupiter Ascending’s alien culture of super-economics steering everything in life – history, politics, even human relationships – is an obvious comment on current Western society. It is played as satire depicted by a whole planet being a helter-skelter patchwork of authorities and regulations, not unlike The Place That Sends You Mad.

Still the wild mix of styles and technologies, anything from mechanic typewriters to futuristic holographs, is an apt visualisation of places relying on small budgets, under-staffed and over-worked, in an administrative system nobody could ever manage to understand, including robot brains. It serves as a more realistic balance to all the luxury of the Abrasax homes and gives insight into what real life in space looks like.

Interesting enough, although Jupiter keeps claiming ‘I am not your mother’ to every Abrasax within her reach, she still goes through all that paperwork madness to get her status invoked. One could call it a matter of greed, but also of self-protection – and maybe Jupiter is already sensing the responsibility of the title, trying to keep it from the self-absorbed people she has come to know as her new family. Most importantly though, it is the first time that she has a choice in what to make out of her life, something that really matters. Not the glitters and jewels, but real responsibility. In her most private moments, we do not see her google shoes, but elaborate telescopes to look at the stars. Once she has her titles, and is immediately abducted, the first thing Jupiter does is to educate herself on her lawful rights, which she then hurls at Titus. This woman did not go into space to receive a sparkly crown, this woman uses the head without the sparkles.

She is accordingly abhorred once she finds out what all that wealth is built on: lives. It is not without reason that time is called the most valuable resource in the universe, when it already is in our society. The Abrasax’ bee symbol the hexagonal glass cases containing that time are sealed with stands in stark contrast to the healthy, thriving nature that bees need. But then, other families also adapt this motive for their homes: Stinger’s whole house is inhabited by bees, they and their honeycombs, honey, mead, even their colours, they are everywhere, and in Jupiter’s home on Earth the wallpapers show a honeycomb pattern.

One could almost say that in this movie, Earth is the kindest place for male beings. Why else would Stinger live there? His way is an interesting one: he is literally half-drone, but is first introduced as Caine’s mentor and Kiza’s father, something a drone could never acquire. It is as if by giving a home to countless bees and a genetically engineered daughter he absolutely dotes on, Stinger makes up for his inability to create life himself. It is questionable whether Splices are designed to have natural offspring. Interesting enough, the Splicers mentioned in the movie were both female. Coincidence or not? Maybe not, for the way Stinger speaks about his Splicer, he seems to feel affection and loyalty for her as he would to a mother, a queen bee.

With this display of family life, there is little doubt why Jupiter immediately trusts Stinger. No matter how hard her own life, her family has and does protect her, visible when her uncle yells at her cousin not to treat Jupiter ‘like chicken’ – while all those people in space who proclaim to know her every thought, just because she shares the DNA of someone they are related to, treat her exactly like cattle. Noticeably, her cousin even tries to defend himself claiming that Jupiter wanted to be exploited, even begged for it. Sentences known from far worse offenders. But for once nobody believes him, they hold him fully responsible.

In this context, Jupiter’s final decisions – first, to do everything she can to save her family, then, to extend that protection to the whole of Earth’s population – are easier to understand. Jupiter has learnt what it means to face responsibility, and she knows what it’s like to be at the very bottom of society. She remembers this once it is in her power to make actual decisions, and she doesn’t need guidance, nor encouragement, to reach that level of inner strength. When Caine tries to hold her back from sacrificing herself to Balem, she tells him that it’s her decision, the strongest and most angry words he ever gets from her. That’s what makes her the heroine.

But can this heroine be rescued by the hero so many times? She can, if saving herself is beyond her own powers, and she keeps her agency. As mentioned above, nothing Caine does happens against Jupiter’s consent, neither are those actions primarily written to enhance his character. She even learns in these scenes, as is shown when she guesses Caine’s moves in the showdown and distracts Balem, so Caine can perform his manoeuvre. They then work together to bring out Jupiter’s family, again without having to argue what to do and how, because they now just flow together. Jupiter even learns how to fly those boots. Saving her is not showing Caine as the hero, but Jupiter as the heroine learning about a very dangerous world, and whom she can trust. Well, and being saved. But what is overlooked is Jupiter’s many ways of protecting Caine, in the ways she can and he can’t: speaking for his sake, getting his pardon, even by simply respecting him.

There are points of criticism about this movie that cannot be overlooked – the mostly white cast being one of them. This would not be a complete review though without mentioning Nikki Amuka-Bird’s performance of Captain Tsing, who leaves the most thorough impression of all the characters, despite the relatively little development she gets. With the movie granting its main characters their flaws, mostly in shape of being hunted by their own demons and far from perfection, Captain Tsing is the centre of uprightness, justice, and humane decency. She is shown doubting and at the very limits of her ability, but never giving up on the responsibility over the people on board of her ship. She judges people not by their rank, but by their behaviour, let them be royalty or Splices, and instinctively finds the precise balance between being a commander, and having a heart. Ultimately a veteran and heroine in her own right, her humour comes sharp and unexpected, and finally it is she who saves everyone over, and over, and over, risking her ship and crew, but calculating all this to make sure just-so that they will all make it out. It is a disgrace that characters such as hers seem to be the only parts actresses of colour are granted, and that these parts are then kept so short on screen time. Audience members who demanded a movie about Caine, shut up, it would be as exciting as watching paint dry. Give us a movie about Captain Tsing instead, or a trilogy, or a television series, and make sure you have that lavender ready for calming down later, for you will need it.

What also irks me is the notion that aliens from outer space speak English. In a movie that is about immigrants, with Jupiter’s uncle going ‘We use English in this house’ during family dinners, one would expect more of a sense for linguistics. Maybe there is an explanation and it was cut out, maybe there is not, but either way, this is the one fault in the storyline that does not fit into an otherwise intricately crafted worldbuilding.

That the character of Jupiter Jones attracts the largest part of criticism is bull crap though. She is undoubtedly a well-developed heroine about to become even more. That she is actually happy to scrub toilets at the end of the movie is not an inconsistency, it is her realisation that she has so much more now – but that this upbringing, this background, is something she should cherish as her anchor to reality. She could never have been happy only having this, and the movie does not say that she is now. What Jupiter is happy about is that she has a family who loves her, as well as a whole planet to protect: that she has responsibility now, and therefore, reason. That she is not a spoilt Abrasax who only knows how to destroy, no matter whose DNA she matches, but someone of her own right, her own personality, and her own choices, no matter how unorthodox those are. Dating a guy with wings who just gave her his set of very rare flying boots probably helps, too. Wings. The Wachowskis just keep spoiling us.

Jupiter chooses responsibility over wealth, and she is only learning now. There will be many more stories in it for her, and who knows how she will develop? She could still become a very different person, what with all that power, all those things in the universe she is unprepared for. She could be the next big villain, or a deity, or a demon, who can say? What will she do when she hears her clock ticking? Or her family’s? It would be fascinating to find out which paths she chooses as the years go by, and how Jupiter Jones will make it into history. For historic she certainly is, that woman with the toilet brush. Why else would she be named not just after the biggest planet we have around, but also the thunder-throwing, all-powerful, notorious king of all gods?

It is little wonder that Jupiter Ascending has received such negative criticism from those who have privilege in abundance, as well as those who prefer their storylines pre-chewed. On the other hand, it is good to see that the movie did not do so bad at the box office either. There seems to be hope. So thank you, Wachowski sisters, for giving us things to think about. Please don’t stop.

[actutrends]

‘We have a huge problem’: European tech regulator despairs over lack of enforcement

Now the Irish regulator which supervises Google, Facebook, Microsoft and Twitter, among other giants, states that its first decision will not be delivered until early next year, contributing to previous hold-ups.

Ireland and Luxembourg have faced unique examination due to the fact that numerous U.S. tech business have started a business in those small countries, which have actively courted them thanks to a mix of low business tax rates and business-friendly guideline. Those close relationships have actually developed a strong degree of economic reliance, especially in the Irish case, which raises questions regarding whether these countries are best matched to managing Big Tech.

Now, regulators in other countries are speaking out about their doubts. Hamburg’s data security authority says that the existing “one-stop-shop” system, in which many significant investigations are carried out by authorities in Dublin or Luxembourg, creates severe traffic jams and an “unsatisfactory” circumstance for millions of web users.

” After nearly one and a half years we must yield that we have a substantial problem with the enforcement of cross border processing specifically by worldwide acting companies,” a representative for the authority, one of 16 in Germany, informed POLITICO, describing cases that concern web users in more than one nation. “It is absolutely unacceptable to see that the greatest alleged information defense infractions of the last 15 months with countless individuals [concerned] are far away from being approved.”

Luxembourg’s regulator declined various requests for comment. Irish privacy chief Helen Dixon insisted in an interview that the hold-ups relate to the complexity of imposing a new law.

Probes require time since Europe’s law is untested and cases need to stand up to the analysis of all 28 EU nations, in addition to in national court. “It’s going to take as long as it takes to do it appropriately,” she stated, echoing points made by some other senior European data security authorities.

But Dixon’s description is not good enough for other regulators, lawyers, personal privacy advocates and consumer protection groups around Europe. They argue that the longer Europe requires to implement its personal privacy guidelines against the world’s greatest data-hungry business, the more Silicon Valley will make the most of wiggle room, run circle regulators and undermine the spirit of the EU’s law.

In interviews with officials and personal privacy professionals around Europe, critics pointed to a variety of problems in the bloc’s personal privacy system including:

— A governmental logjam that has actually delayed action on lots of complaints including declared violations of GDPR in Google’s area tracking and privacy failures on behalf of Facebook, Amazon, Apple, Twitter and others, triggering personal privacy activists to threaten legal action;-LRB- .

— Lead supervisory authorities in charge of managing a few of the world’s most effective tech business that leaned greatly toward “engagement”– or administering guidance on how to stay legal– over examinations and enforcement;

— A lack of transparency and cooperation in between European data protection authorities that are implied to work together to enforce the guidelines, however end up being stymied by divergent national legal systems, cultural distinctions and an outmoded details exchange system;-LRB- .

— Increasingly glaring differences in how EU guard dogs are analyzing the guidelines and, at times, breaking out of the one-stop-shop system to create what looks like a patchwork of personal privacy programs instead of a single European landscape.

Few doubt that consequential decisions will be upcoming in2020 When the very first big calls are made on Google, Facebook and other big players, the critics warn it will just be the start of legal arguments, as European regulators are most likely to fight one another over fines and solutions in arguments that could take years to untangle, and which might just get fixed by judges at the European Court of Justice in Luxembourg.

The irony, argue these exact same critics, is that after lots of crowing about Europe’s thorough approach to personal privacy, it’s in the United States, where regulators have actually struck Facebook with a $5 billion fine over the Cambridge Analytica scandal, that enforcement has been the quickest on privacy.

” Europe has great laws on paper.

To understand the growing aggravation, critics state, it helps to look over some of the more prominent complaints that have piled up because GDPR entered effect and remain unsettled, prompting a number of celebrations to consider legal action that would require regulators to get moving.

On the day the law was imposed, Austrian personal privacy attorney Max Schrems filed 4 suits against Facebook, Google, Instagram and WhatsApp, respectively, over the concept that they were “forcing” users to agree to have their personal information gathered in order to be able to utilize services. These matches, which were first filed with regulators in France, Germany, Austria and Belgium, were consequently all forwarded to the Irish Data Protection Commission– which ended up being Europe’s “lead” regulator for all the companies concerned overnight– for further processing.

A year and a half later, Schrems and the other attorneys in his “None of Your Organisation” ( noyb.eu) group are still waiting for decisions, and thinking about legal action that would the Irish regulator to get moving on their claims.

An examination into one of their problems, against Facebook, was “completed” by Ireland over the summer, but it’s still stuck in an evaluation procedure between noyb.eu and Facebook’s attorneys, according to Gaetan Goldberg, among Schrems’ associates. Requested an update on the status of that grievance, Irish personal privacy chief Dixon stated it had yet to reach her desk and was outside her legal purview as Irish Data Security Commissioner for the minute.

Schrems and his coworkers state they are bound by confidentiality rules and can not go over the 66- page report on Ireland’s probe, which looks into whether Facebook users provided users a real choice over having their data gathered if they wished to utilize the platform. People familiar with their thinking state they are less than pleased with the result, and might bring objections through the Austrian court system.

On all of noyb.eu‘s other problems, including an extra volley versus Amazon and Apple filed in January of this year, there is no clear end in sight.

Schrems stated the sluggish speed harmonizes what he describes as the Irish regulator’s track record of avoiding enforcement.

He points to a continuous case before Europe’s leading court, which started method back in 2013 when Schrems grumbled to the Irish regulator that the information of European Facebook users would not be safe from sleuthing if it was sent out on to the United States.

” All cases are still stuck to the Irish, some with no reaction for more than 1.5 years now,” stated Schrems, who lagged a claim that brought a significant transatlantic information circulation agreement, Safe Harbor, crashing down and is likewise a plaintiff in procedures against its follower, Personal privacy Guard.

The sluggish speed fits in with a performance history of relaxed treatment of Facebook from prior to the GDPR age, when the Irish regulator had next to absolutely no power to sanction firms, Schrems and other critics state.

After giving the social media giant a clean expense of health on personal privacy following a three-month audit in 2011, the Irish Data Defense Commission went on to advise Facebook on how to abide by the GDPR in the run-up to the law coming online, several individuals knowledgeable about the matter said, including on controversial matters like its facial acknowledgment tool for matching photos online– which other regulators have singled out as being bothersome under EU rules.

Luxembourg’s regulator is, if anything, less transparent than its Irish counterpart.

Located on “rue du Rock ‘n’ Roll” in a town far from the nation’s administrative center, the regulator that supervises Amazon, eBay and Paypal in the European Union did not react to several requests for comment, and supplied no info about any examination into those companies in its public declarations.

” We have blockage circumstance,” added Schrems’s coworker Goldberg in a phone conversation, describing the GDPR’s one-stop-shop mechanism that gave lead oversight authority to Ireland and Luxembourg due to the business’ choice to find their main establishment in those nations.” My worry is that this [bottleneck] will eventually have a chilling result on individuals seeking to assert their personal privacy rights.”

Another long-waiting party is La Quadrature du Internet, a French digital rights group that submitted no fewer than seven suits against 5 huge tech business just a couple of days after GDPR came online. Among the cases, worrying Google’s Android mobile os, resulted in the French CNIL regulator hitting the search giant with a EUR50 million fine in January of 2019 for breaching GDPR by stopping working to get lawfully legitimate approval for gathering their information for advertisement personalization.

Others remain in limbo. Luxembourg’s information security authority has actually reached out to Amazon over La Quadrature’s grievance, the company confirmed to POLITICO, yet decisions still appear to be a remote possibility.

” We have extremely little information on how things are advancing,” said Arthur Messaud, a lawyer for the French group.

After an initial volley of grievances which took objective at the whipping heart of Silicon Valley’s data collection model, others have actually followed that target various aspects of Big Tech’s personal privacy practices.

An umbrella group of European consumer defense companies, BEUC, filed a grievance last November against Google over supposed privacy failures in the way it tracks users’ location, while Johnny Ryan, an executive at web internet browser Brave, complained to Ireland’s privacy regulator in September, 2019, over what he called a “GDPR workaround” that was permitting the search giant to gather information on users without valid consent.

Both cases are pending, and a number of plaintiffs informed POLITICO they were considering further legal action to require information defense authorities to get moving through what’s called an “seriousness procedure” in the GDPR.

” When business break the law, consumers require to be able to count on enforcement bodies to get their rights appreciated,” wrote the group’s director general, Monique Goyens, in a very finely veiled recommendation to the Irish enforcement body examining the group’s grievances.

Finn Lützow-Holm Myrstad, Director of Digital Policy at Norway’s consumer security company, said that after the letter was published, Ireland’s personal privacy regulator invited members of BEUC to Dublin to discuss modifications it said the search giant had actually made in response to the problem. However these changes have yet to be made public, and the case took nearly a year to be addressed– too long, Lützow-Holm Myrstad stated, in today’s world.

” In a constantly moving digital world, we can’t wait on years to see Google do something about it to repair violent practices,” he composed in action to emailed questions.

Ireland’s Dixon, who informed U.S. Congress in May it was likely that Silicon Valley companies had actually breached the GDPR, acknowledges the impatience. Having stated that she would hand down a first draft choice in a case including WhatsApp in December, Dixon now says that decision will not be upcoming up until “early in the brand-new year.”

” We’re all impatient,” she said.

” We are getting wary of pricing quote timelines and mentioning ‘end of the year, start to next month,’ due to the fact that it’s just not a procedure that we control end-to-end,” she said in November on the sidelines of a privacy conference in Brussels. “This is a novel and new procedure that we are going to step through at EU level, where a controller raises a legitimate concern, or puts something on the table to say … We do need to stop briefly and respond to those questions carefully.”

As of late November, Dixon stated she had yet to decide whether WhatsApp has, in fact, breached the GDPR. If and when she does, her very first decision is likely to subject Europe’s personal privacy enforcement system to its very first genuine tension test because other regulators will get to weigh in on choices that concern millions of web users and are expected to press back versus the Irish judgment.

So far, open arguments have actually been kept to a minimum.

For Andrea Jelinek, the Austrian privacy chief who chairs the umbrella group of EU privacy regulators, the unbroken record of decision-via-consensus total up to evidence that Europe’s enforcement system is working. Those cases “were not that attractive however they was necessary.”

But if Europe’s regulators have sung from one hymn-sheet, it could likewise be that those decisions were narrower in scope and did not concern an effective tech business. That is likely to change when Dixon by far her draft decision in the WhatsApp case.

If Dixon’s choice is perceived as too friendly to the business, the very first pushback could originate from Hamburg. The regulator in Northern Germany has consistently underscored issues about WhatsApp and Facebook, pointing out 2 court decisions buying the two entities to stop sharing data.

” After the transmission of user data between WhatsApp and Facebook was stopped, they [Facebook] took the entry into force of the GDPR as a chance to go back to their former practice,” the regulator’s chief told POLITICO last year.

Hamburg’s more recent remarks– citing “undesirable” hold-ups– suggest disappointment over WhatsApp and other pending data defense matters is reaching a boiling point.

A spokesperson for the Irish regulator stated the two nations had actually concurred to improve their cooperation, but the Irish regulator’s funding scarcity is genuine.

In her interview with POLITICO, Dixon underscored that the spending plan deficiency would not impact investigations or the regulator’s ability to carry out pricey litigation versus Huge Tech companies understood for “flooding the zone” with battalions of lawyers, drowning regulators in procedural moves.

But observers of European personal privacy rules are worried, keeping in mind that even if the lawsuits budget is cordoned off, an absence of funding for a vital update of out-of-date IT systems and personnels operations could have an effect on the regulator’s operating as a whole. In a complaint sent to the European Commission in October, Daragh O’Brien, a Dublin-based personal privacy expert, prompted EU authorities to intervene to make sure that personal privacy guidelines were being effectively imposed. “It is their function [the European Commission’s] to supervise how Member States are carrying out EU law,” he wrote in a blogpost.

Among other problems, he highlighted that the Irish regulator badly needed upgrades, noting “file size limitations and the failure to handle standard file sharing capabilities.”

” For e-mail and case management they are using the very same basic innovation I began my profession administering in a telco back in 1997,” he included.

O’Brien did not respond to ask for comment.

Another sore point is how well, or how badly, Europeans are working together to implement a bloc-wide personal privacy policy that is indicated to be a gold requirement for the world.

More than 20 years old, it was initially conceived to share information about Europe’s internal market, and isn’t fit to dealing with the high volume of complaints that has included the GDPR. “This is actually yesterday’s innovation, which slows whatever down,” stated one German data defense authorities who asked not to be called.

However, regulators insist they are doing plenty of collaboration. A representative for the French data defense authority spoke of “active cooperation” on examinations. The Irish regulator mentioned a list of continuous modes of cooperation with other regulators including regular monthly gatherings of personal privacy authorities in Brussels, bilateral info exchanges, on-site sees to Dublin by regulators in 3rd nations and an incipient collaboration with the Spanish regulator on an investigation. And yet, a spokesperson for the Irish said that neither the Irish regulator nor any other had actually yet introduced a “joint investigation”– a formal procedure that would involve sending out officials from one regulator to assist another on website, and could allow much better resourced regulators, like the Information Commissioner’s Workplace in London, to provide legal and investigatory firepower to the Irish.

Factors invoked for not doing so included language barriers, variations between judicial systems in various EU countries and legal limitations in some states.

However Bojana Bellamy, President of the Centre for Details Policy Leadership, provided another: cultural distinctions.

Liberal regulators in northern EU countries like Ireland would not see eye-to-eye with their more legalistic German associates or statist French, and for that reason would not want them examining their shoulders. And while such distinctions have actually long existed, they are growing more noticable.

” Some lines have actually been broken, and there is mistrust” in between regulators, said Bellamy, whose group counts Google and Facebook as members.

In the lack of a centralizing force, regulators are beginning to advance with the own nationwide actions, raising the possibility of patchwork decision-making that the GDPR sought to prevent with the “one stop shop” provision that designated each firm’s headquarters country as lead regulator.

Hamburg’s authority in August took the uncommon action of activating an urgency treatment to protect the personal privacy rights of its residents in a case involving Google’s voice assistant. The relocation, which prompted the German regulator to call a short-lived halt to human processing of voice recordings by Google, recommended Hamburg could not wait on the lead supervisory authority, in this case Ireland, to act.

In a different case, Belgium’s privacy regulator has actually asked Europe’s leading court to clarify when a national regulator has the ability to progress with an examination of concern to individuals in the country. The case stretches back to 2015, when the Belgian authority bought Facebook to stop using a tool to track users on third-party websites, only to see the choice overturned by a court which argued that Ireland, not Belgium, was the firm’s primary regulative port of call in Europe.

By appealing to the European Court of Justice, Belgium wishes to know just how far its own authority stretches under the one-stop-shop.

In France, the U.K., Germany, Spain and in other places, regulators are presenting varying positions on matters such as GDPR fining standards, limits on web browser cookies and facial acknowledgment.

Critics point a finger at the European Data Security Board (EDPB), which is implied to coordinate action in between regulators, as requiring to step up. In its annual review of the GDPR, the European Commission stated that the EDPB must take on a stronger oversight role to create common policy positions, a position that the Council of the European Union– which collects all EU states– echoed in December.

But Jelinek said her workplace has no legal mandate to do more. Eventually, the issue could land at the doorstep of the pioneer of the GDPR, the European Commision. Under new President Ursula von der Leyen, the bloc’s executive arm has promised to assert Europe’s “digital sovereignty”– an idea that involves utilizing antitrust law to check out questions of information monopolies.

However currently, European information protection officials are bristling at having their turf stomped on. In a chat with POLITICO, incoming European Data Protection Manager Wojciech Wiewiórowski– who’s in charge of policing EU institutions– sent out a clear signal that personal privacy regulators desired antitrust enforcers to stay on their patch.

That leaves the companies to choose among themselves whether reform of the GDPR’s current statutes is needed, and whether action ought to be taken to prod the lead authorities.

” These treatments will be a celebration to examine the cooperation systems anticipated by the guideline, and any requirement to improve them,” the official said.

The post ‘We have a huge problem’: European tech regulator despairs over lack of enforcement appeared first on Actu Trends.

[onebling-official]

Bohemian Style Dressing

  What is this Bohemian frenzy, you ask? The craze first started around the 1950s/19060s by hippie travelers wearing visibly eclectic clothing, taking influence from every land they set their foot in. Bohemian dressing expressed the hippie free-spirited lifestyle back in the day, and then returned after a couple of decades. It has officially taken over runways, red carpets, and even bridal collections (remember Kate Moss’s rehearsal dinner dress?). Dreamcatchers, everything with pom-poms, printed dresses, mystic jewelry with a whimsical mix of rich cultures like Indian, Egyptian, Moroccan, Turkish and parts of South America – boho is everywhere. And, words like “boho-chic’ and ‘boho’ are all from the Bohemian order too.

So, we’ll take you on a quaint and fanciful ride to discuss Bohemian style dressing. Stay with me and let’s trip on this together.

Let’s discuss styling ideas and understand how to infuse the Bohemian elements into your wardrobe. However, remember that this list is not conclusive. Every little detail adds to the overall output, so take a cue and build on it.

1. Long Maxi Dresses

Maxi dresses alone give you a million options to keep up with the Bohemian vibe. Prints like paisley, floral, flowing, geometric, and eclectic ones define your look further. Pair them with a statement neckpiece and/or bandana, gladiator or pom-pom sandals, and a huge finger ring to match the occasion. You could also throw on a printed denim vest or a fur jacket.

2. Short Dresses

A short kaftan or flowing dress in handloom, cotton or linen fabric makes for a perfect boho-chic outfit. Add long, oxidized silver jewelry, feather earrings, pom-pom accessories, and nude boots.

3. Long Skirts

Long printed skirts in paisley or floral prints with a plain tank top, floral head wrap or floppy hat, and maybe a pair of boots if you wish (or wedges) are all fun choices that truly speak boho. Take it a step ahead with a plaid or flannel shirt tied around your waist.

4. Maxi Skirts

If you have just joined the Bohemian bandwagon and want to take it slow, start with maxi skirts – or the latest knotted maxi skirt style. They are uber chic, rather boho-chic, and make the perfect option for hippie style clothing.

5. Harem Pants Or What Some May Call Hippie Pants

The first thing that comes to my head when I think of anything boho or hippie is harem or dhoti pants paired with a tank top, scarf, a head accessory, loose wavy curls, and a frayed leather bag. You just don’t have to try hard with this attire.

6. Boho-Chic Tops

Paisley printed tanks tops, shirts, pom-pom tunics, ruffled off-shoulders with maxi skirts or dhoti pants fit the hippie fashion bill perfectly.

7. Bohemian Style Evening Dresses

Bohemian style evening dresses are very unlike the usual fast trends, so when you think of an evening dress, it will not be your typical LBD or sequinned dress. Anything flowy, cascading, long or printed gives you that boho look. Needless to say, add statement jewelry.

8. Flared Or Patchwork Patterned Jeans

Jeans with a flare, frays or with patchwork are considered boho. Go with a plain shirt, tank or tunic and add layers like scarves or vests.

9. Jumpsuits

You can spot a Bohemian woman when you see one. Printed jumpsuits in rustic colors and their undertones are a comfortable way of adding the boho vibe to your everyday attire. Braid your hair or accessorize it with a bandana, and apply bronzer and eye makeup to take it to the next level.

10. Bohemian Printed Kurtis

There’s so much you can do with kurtis. Your best bet is handloom kurtis in old style prints like ikat, pochampally, baltic, etc., that give you the perfect Bohemian look.

11. Denim Or Fur Jackets

Add a layer of denim or fur vests/jackets to your Bohemian outfits to go all out. Especially denim jackets with patchwork, suzani embroidery, etc., are just too perfect.

12. Nude Colored Boots

When it comes to boots, nude or camel colored shoes with patchwork or frayed edges of any length add a boho charm to your outfit.

13. Gladiator Sandals

Gladiator sandals, especially the ones with pom-poms, are modern, yet mystic – just how boho-chic should be. The knee length ones go with dresses, skirts, and shorts, while the ankle length ones go with kurtis, ankle length jeans, and long skirts.

14. Tribal And Chunky Jewelry

Just add a chunky statement necklace, a big finger ring, a silver nose pin or a septum ring, and see the difference it makes to your outfit. You do not have to wear everything at once, but one piece at a time can transform you into a remarkably Bohemian lass.

15. Hats

Floppy hats are a thing and are an integral part of the hippie fashion statements. A pair of shorts with a tunic, nude boots or gladiators, frayed leather handbag and a floppy hat – a summer outfit that screams boho.

16. Bandanas Or Floral Hair Accessories

Here’s another hippie style that has found its way into fashion. It not only saves you from a bad hair day but can also make you look boho effortlessly.

17. Hippie Handbags

Afghani Kutch work bags or huge wallets and leather bags with distressed edges in crimson, nude or brown add up to your look. Imagine this – a long printed skirt, gladiators, bandana, brown lipstick, feather earrings, and a sling bag. It cannot get any more boho and chic!

18. Scarves

As we discussed, the best way to add boho elements to your outfit is by adding layers and wearing outfits that are flowing and flouncy. Add a geometric printed scarf to beef up your outfit instantly.

19. Oversized Sunglasses

I’m sure you’ve already noticed that oversized and round sunglasses are so in right now. And, you’ve guessed it right – they bring in the boho vibe too. So, add that to your list.

I’m a sucker for Bohemian style dresses not because I’m a hippie at heart but because I relate to the vibe. Also, being a hippie is directly proportional to boho, but boho is not necessarily hippie. This style blurred all geographical boundaries and welded cultures as far as fashion is concerned. I can go on about this all night! I’ll simply let you go and explore the boho world. Remember to drop a message in the comment section about your favorite boho style piece.

[egooksconnolly]

Bohemian Style Dressing

What is this Bohemian frenzy, you ask? The craze first started around the 1950s/19060s by hippie travelers wearing visibly eclectic clothing, taking influence from every land they set their foot in. Bohemian dressing expressed the hippie free-spirited lifestyle back in the day, and then returned after a couple of decades. It has officially taken over runways, red carpets, and even bridal collections (remember Kate Moss’s rehearsal dinner dress?). Dreamcatchers, everything with pom-poms, printed dresses, mystic jewelry with a whimsical mix of rich cultures like Indian, Egyptian, Moroccan, Turkish and parts of South America – boho is everywhere. And, words like “boho-chic’ and ‘boho’ are all from the Bohemian order too.

So, we’ll take you on a quaint and fanciful ride to discuss Bohemian style dressing. Stay with me and let’s trip on this together.

Bohemian Style Ideas

Image: iStock

Let’s discuss styling ideas and understand how to infuse the Bohemian elements into your wardrobe. However, remember that this list is not conclusive. Every little detail adds to the overall output, so take a cue and build on it.

1. Long Maxi Dresses

Image: Instagram, forever21.com

Maxi dresses alone give you a million options to keep up with the Bohemian vibe. Prints like paisley, floral, flowing, geometric, and eclectic ones define your look further. Pair them with a statement neckpiece and/or bandana, gladiator or pom-pom sandals, and a huge finger ring to match the occasion. You could also throw on a printed denim vest or a fur jacket.

2. Short Dresses

Image: Instagram

A short kaftan or flowing dress in handloom, cotton or linen fabric makes for a perfect boho-chic outfit. Add long, oxidized silver jewelry, feather earrings, pom-pom accessories, and nude boots.

3. Long Skirts

Image: Instagram

Long printed skirts in paisley or floral prints with a plain tank top, floral head wrap or floppy hat, and maybe a pair of boots if you wish (or wedges) are all fun choices that truly speak boho. Take it a step ahead with a plaid or flannel shirt tied around your waist.

4. Maxi Skirts

Image: Instagram

If you have just joined the Bohemian bandwagon and want to take it slow, start with maxi skirts – or the latest knotted maxi skirt style. They are uber chic, rather boho-chic, and make the perfect option for hippie style clothing.

5. Harem Pants Or What Some May Call Hippie Pants

Image: Instagram

The first thing that comes to my head when I think of anything boho or hippie is harem or dhoti pants paired with a tank top, scarf, a head accessory, loose wavy curls, and a frayed leather bag. You just don’t have to try hard with this attire.

6. Boho-Chic Tops

Image: Instagram

Paisley printed tanks tops, shirts, pom-pom tunics, ruffled off-shoulders with maxi skirts or dhoti pants fit the hippie fashion bill perfectly.

7. Bohemian Style Evening Dresses

Image: Instagram

Bohemian style evening dresses are very unlike the usual fast trends, so when you think of an evening dress, it will not be your typical LBD or sequinned dress. Anything flowy, cascading, long or printed gives you that boho look. Needless to say, add statement jewelry.

8. Flared Or Patchwork Patterned Jeans

Image: Instagram

Jeans with a flare, frays or with patchwork are considered boho. Go with a plain shirt, tank or tunic and add layers like scarves or vests.

9. Jumpsuits

Image: Instagram

You can spot a Bohemian woman when you see one. Printed jumpsuits in rustic colors and their undertones are a comfortable way of adding the boho vibe to your everyday attire. Braid your hair or accessorize it with a bandana, and apply bronzer and eye makeup to take it to the next level.

10. Bohemian Printed Kurtis

Image: ajio.com, Instagram

There’s so much you can do with kurtis. Your best bet is handloom kurtis in old style prints like ikat, pochampally, baltic, etc., that give you the perfect Bohemian look.

11. Denim Or Fur Jackets

Image: Instagram

Add a layer of denim or fur vests/jackets to your Bohemian outfits to go all out. Especially denim jackets with patchwork, suzani embroidery, etc., are just too perfect.

12. Nude Colored Boots

Image: Instagram, iStock

When it comes to boots, nude or camel colored shoes with patchwork or frayed edges of any length add a boho charm to your outfit.

13. Gladiator Sandals

Image: iStock, Instagram

Gladiator sandals, especially the ones with pom-poms, are modern, yet mystic – just how boho-chic should be. The knee length ones go with dresses, skirts, and shorts, while the ankle length ones go with kurtis, ankle length jeans, and long skirts.

14. Tribal And Chunky Jewelry

Image: iStock

Just add a chunky statement necklace, a big finger ring, a silver nose pin or a septum ring, and see the difference it makes to your outfit. You do not have to wear everything at once, but one piece at a time can transform you into a remarkably Bohemian lass.

15. Hats

Image: Instagram

Floppy hats are a thing and are an integral part of the hippie fashion statements. A pair of shorts with a tunic, nude boots or gladiators, frayed leather handbag and a floppy hat – a summer outfit that screams boho.

16. Bandanas Or Floral Hair Accessories

Image: iStock

Here’s another hippie style that has found its way into fashion. It not only saves you from a bad hair day but can also make you look boho effortlessly.

17. Hippie Handbags

Image: Instagram, Instagram

Afghani Kutch work bags or huge wallets and leather bags with distressed edges in crimson, nude or brown add up to your look. Imagine this – a long printed skirt, gladiators, bandana, brown lipstick, feather earrings, and a sling bag. It cannot get any more boho and chic!

18. Scarves

Image: iStock

As we discussed, the best way to add boho elements to your outfit is by adding layers and wearing outfits that are flowing and flouncy. Add a geometric printed scarf to beef up your outfit instantly.

19. Oversized Sunglasses

Image: iStock

I’m sure you’ve already noticed that oversized and round sunglasses are so in right now. And, you’ve guessed it right – they bring in the boho vibe too. So, add that to your list.

I’m a sucker for Bohemian style not because I’m a hippie at heart but because I relate to the vibe. Also, being a hippie is directly proportional to boho, but boho is not necessarily hippie. This style blurred all geographical boundaries and welded cultures as far as fashion is concerned. I can go on about this all night! I’ll simply let you go and explore the boho world. Remember to drop a message in the comment section about your favorite boho style piece.

The post Bohemian Style Dressing appeared first on STYLECRAZE.

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[myszkina]

Shadow and Steel - a Skyrim fanfiction

FF.net

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 3 - Smoke on the Water

The whole city knew that the Thieves Guild made their home in the Ratway. But those who had attempted to find them often died trying, lost in the maze. The thief's tools of deception and misdirection kept their home safe; the Ratway was a patchwork of old sewers and tunnels dug as escapes by lords and smugglers alike, layer upon layer deep underground. The remnants of the old city, burned to the ground by fire many years ago, boarded up and forgotten, had been absorbed into the maze. The stone lower levels of houses that had sunk beneath the waves, buried under the lake. Basements, underground warehouses, treasuries, cells from days past... All had become part of the City Beneath the City, sprawling under Riften. Not even the thieves knew the full extent of the tunnels.

As for the Cistern, it's location was a closely guarded secret, one that had to be earned, and one that the thieves had been tasked and trained to keep. But even if they did break, no one was likely to believe that it lay hidden under one of the finest manors in the city. Over the years it had been built into an odd mix of side rooms and tunnels off the original hall. The office was a fairly recent addition to the ancient Cistern added by Mercer’s predecessor, discovered by accident much like the senior members’ rooms and the larger dormitory, when the aging walls separating them from the main Cistern had weakened and started to collapse.

No one really believed Delvin’s rantings about signs and curses, but they could all see what this meant: Their headquarters was dying, falling apart along with the Guild, and it was going to take a lot more than bricks and mortar to save it. They were going to need a miracle.

Light footsteps echoed softly through the empty Cistern as Zarja stalked down the stairs from the city above. Her cloak billowed behind her as she swept through the tunnels, her wet, filthy boots trailing mud. The bag in her hand bounced against her leg as she walked, the cloth stained a deep crimson from its contents.

The door to Mercer’s office lay at the other end of the massive room, and was currently shut. But she knew he was in there, and that he was waiting for her.

Zarja also knew that this meeting was important. The letter she had received in Windhelm had given nothing but orders to return, but being called back from an assignment was almost unheard of. Ordinarily, after so long an absence, she would’ve taken the long route through the city to catch up on what she had missed. Today that wasn’t an option; no one kept the Guildmaster waiting. Not even she was exempt from that rule. The wooden door creaked on rusty hinges as Zarja flung it open.

She knew instantly that something was wrong. The tension in the room was stifling. The other senior members of the Guild were already gathered. The only one who acknowledged her was Brynjolf, who gave her a quick nod in greeting, a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Zarja stalked across the room, her eyes locked on Mercer. Without a word, she strode right up to the desk and tossed the sack onto the scuffed wooden surface. It slid the last few inches across the papers.

Mercer finally moved, straightening slowly. He undid the knot keeping the sack closed with a sharp tug and pulled out its contents - a severed hand, golden flesh grey and stiff. The sickening reek of decay filled the room.

“It's done, then?” Mercer finally said lowly.

“Did you expect anything else?” Zarja replied, bronze eyes distant. She could feel Brynjolf’s eyes on her; after eight years of this, she knew the grim set of his face even when she didn’t see it.

Mercer didn’t respond, turning the grotesque trophy over in his hands, studying it. Finally, after a too long moment, he nodded his approval, throwing it carelessly back into the sack.

Zarja turned and stepped back, leaning against a bookshelf. “So what's so important that you couldn’t say in a letter?”

Vex snorted derisively, but didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at Zarja.

Zarja ignored the Imperial, schooling her features into neutrality as she studied the other thieves, taking in every detail in a matter of seconds - Vex’s white-knuckled grip on her leather gear, the high, defensive cross of her arms; the almost painful-looking set of Delvin’s jaw; the way every thief refused to meet her stare. Mercer, infuriatingly, remained impassive. Zarja hated that unreadable mask, the absolute mastery of his expressions and temper that Zarja had never quite been able to match.

“Anein was caught in Markarth.” Mercer said finally.

Zarja sighed through her nose, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. This was why he’d called her back.  “If you had another assignment for me,” she drawled, pushing back a strand of golden hair. “You could have just said so.”

She had never liked the Dunmer. Well over a hundred years old, the former member of the Morag Tong - as he constantly liked to remind them, as if it somehow made him better - had tried to undermine her at every turn since he’d joined several years ago, hungry for her position in the Guild.

“I’ll head out in the morning.” She continued. “Though the mine will likely take care of him for us.” Or perhaps she’d drop a hint to Nazir, she mused privately. A debt owed by the Brotherhood held all sorts of possibilities.

“You aren’t going to Markarth.” Zarja’s brows shot up at the sharpness of his voice, and she blinked in surprise.

Then the Nord thief shifted, bronze eyes narrowed. The other thieves focused on anything but her. Whatever had happened, they knew.

“You're going to finish the Goldenglow job.”

Zarja froze, her stomach twisting and a roaring noise filling her ears. “‘Finish’?” She demanded, straightening away from the bookshelf. Her lips pulled back into a snarl. “What do you mean ‘finish’?”

Suddenly everything made sense - the strange silence, not even the barest shred of a rumor from here to Shor’s Stone, the tenseness of her fellow thieves.

Zarja bit down hard on her shock, fighting to keep a hold on her temper. Mercer had gone ahead with Goldenglow without her? They had barely started planning when she’d left for Windhelm.

“Yes,” Vex snapped, and Zarja’s head whipped toward the other woman, realizing she had spoken aloud. “We actually went ahead and did our jobs without the great Zarja Goldshadow.”

“And yet, here I am.” Vex’s brown eyes flashed when Zarja gave her a little smile that she knew made the Imperial’s temper flare. Zarja turned to Mercer. "You should have waited for me." She growled lowly, so only Mercer could hear. The Guildmaster's eyes turned thunderhead dark, and Zarja's words died in her throat. She clenched her jaw, not flinching from his gaze, but taking a quiet step back. She crossed her arms. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“Dar’Ranir is dead.” Her former mentor said indifferently, twirling a blackjack point down on the desk.

“What?” Zarja demanded. Dar’Ranir, the grinning thief she had trained and trained with as often as Rune and Brynjolf since the Khajiit had joined, who’d somehow managed to fit in despite all reservations, coaxed laughs from her with horrible jokes or lewd anecdotes, had impossibly made a home under the lake he’d hated. Even Vex had liked him. “How?”

“Aringoth hired an army of thugs.” Brynjolf bit out. Zarja turned toward him, and under her rage felt a pang of sympathy for her friend; she knew how much responsibility he felt for the thieves in the Guild. He looked like he’d aged five years in less than a month. “Threw out whatever guards we might’ve had on our side. Almost like he knew.”

“They caught us on the second floor.” Vex forced the words out. “Rune by the hives. Dar’Ranir didn’t make it out.”

"You're a thief." Zarja hissed. Her voice, usually the cultured tones of Cyrodiil, roughened into the harsher lilt of the north. Her voice was a low growl; every word rasped past her lips like it had been dredged in gravel. "And he was your partner. You're supposed to be able to get in and out of places without being seen and make sure he does the same, and failing that you're supposed to watch his back!" Her fists clenched and unclenched, barely inching to the dagger on her hip as she took an unconscious step forward. She heard Brynjolf’s low warning, saw out of the corner of her eye Mercer tense dangerously and the blackjack freeze. She ignored both of them. “You had two thieves with you to carry the weight and you still managed to fuck it up, and on top of that you left him there.” “You would’ve done the same!” Vex snapped, matching Zarja’s step and refusing to back down from her glare.

Zarja slammed her hands onto Mercer’s desk, rattling the glasses. “I would’ve killed them all to get him out of there!”

“Enough.” Mercer snapped. Zarja and Vex didn’t move, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “Stand down,” he murmured, and Zarja wasn’t sure if the warning was for her or Vex. She unconsciously tensed at the order out of habit either way. “Her patience has limits.” For Vex then. “As does mine.”

A muscle feathered in the Imperial’s jaw, but she wisely retreated back against the wall, averting her eyes.

Zarja rolled her neck, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “Is Rune all right?”

“He’ll live.” Brynjolf said. “Nothing that’ll keep him down for long.”

"What happened to Dar’Ranir’s body?"

"They burned it, from what we can tell. Didn't want any evidence floating around of a break in." Delvin finally spoke for the first time since Zarja had walked in.

"And a warning to anyone who would try again." Brynjolf added darkly.

"Because they know we're going to.” Zarja stated, speaking to all of them but watching Mercer, who merely toyed with the knife. “But this time, we will not fail."

A watery sun sat shone dimly from behind the clouds, the last remnants of the storm that had settled over the countryside for the past two days. The brilliant colors of the Rift were muted, reduced to dull greys and browns in the fog.

On the northern bank of Lake Honrich, the dark shape of the thief was indiscernible. From her post under a ledge near the road in a hollow between two boulders, wrapped in her cloak against the cool autumn air, Zarja surveyed the island, keen eyes watching the distant, ant-sized figures of the mercenaries.

It seemed like Aringoth knew very well the danger he was in. Zarja had rarely seen this kind of security outside of a Jarl’s palace. She counted roughly a dozen outside, patrolling over the bridges and around the main building, all heavily armed and armored and some leading dogs. She assumed there would be just as many inside the house. An increase in security, from what Brynjolf had told her before she left.

Then there was the island itself. The estate composed of three main islands, connected by bridges high over the water. A high wall wrapped around one of the smaller islands, protecting the beehives from the elements on all sides but one. Sharp rocks and high ledges surrounded most of the islands. The main house sat on the largest island, two stories high in the fashion of most houses in the Rift, on a rise in the middle of the island. Boulders and a few trees broke up the landscape, along with a few low watchtowers, with plenty of open ground between them.

Zarja rose with a quiet groan, stiff limbs aching in protest as she carefully hauled herself onto the ledge above her. Even with the bits of information she had gathered over the course of the morning and the day before, as she made the short trek back to Riften, her mood was grim.

The moons were sinking behind the western mountains when the thief returned, hidden behind a thick covering of clouds. The islands and the estate were dark shapes against the water. The torches were burning low, dim light struggling against the rain.

The swim in the freezing waters of Lake Honrich had not been pleasant, and the trek through the sewer even less so. Zarja’s damp armor clung to her body uncomfortably as she crouched at the entrance of the sewer, listening through the gaps in the wooden grate for any sign of the guards.

Hearing none, she scrambled up the ladder, damp and slippery with moss. The scrape of wood against stone seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet night as she eased the cover open, but didn’t seem to draw attention as Zarja hauled herself out of the sewer.

The sewer let out at the rear of the house, as promised, but it was further away than anticipated.

Merging with the shifting patterns of light and shadow thrown by the moon, the thief blended into the dark, matching the rhythm of trees and clouds as they stirred in the breeze. Slowly, as to not draw attention with errant movement, she crossed the distance to the door.

Zarja was grateful for the rain, even if it meant foregoing her usual mask to not further impair her already weather-limited senses. Thankfully, the downpour also meant that the guards outside of the house didn’t notice her slipping right past them. The second floor was fairly high up, but the window was darkened, and the latch was easily unlocked from the outside. She’d mapped the house already, in the days she had spent watching the island. If she was correct—and she was certain she was—that window led right into the second-floor Aringoth’s room.

Listening carefully, she waited until the guard was looking the other way, and began to climb. Her boots found their grip on the slick wood between logs, hands wrapped in a white-knuckled grip on the gutter.

Zarja kept her eyes and ears open, but no guards rounded the corner of the house. In a few moments, she was at the sill of the study window. The guard below didn’t even look up at the house towering behind him. Top-notch guards indeed.

One glance inside showed a darkened room—a desk littered with papers with a dimming candle at the far side of the room, a wardrobe, and a four-poster bed.

The thief hauled herself onto the ledge, and the slender knife from her boot gleamed dully as it wedged into the slight gap between the window doors. An angled jab, a deft flick of her wrist, and—

She eased the window open. One of the hinges creaked quietly, but the other swung away without a sound. Carefully, holding her breath, she eased the windows shut again.

Zarja landed in a crouch, her leather boots soundless on the ornate rug. The dim lanternlight showed a comfortably furnished home of a wealthy merchant; tastefully decorated, the walls were adorned with glittering decorations and colorful tapestries, and the wooden floors were covered with soft rugs.

The tiniest creak of floorboards under Zarja's feet as she moved, loud as thunder to her sensitive ears, was lost in the myriad of sounds around her. The house was alive around her; the sharp whistle of wind outside, snaking inside through tiny gaps in the outer walls and the patter of rain on the roof, the bear-like snoring of at least one guard of the house, the footsteps of another just outside the door. She pulled her mask up over her nose and started her search.

A quick sweep of the room showed no sign of a safe or keys. Papers were scattered on his desk, a ledger opened to yesterday’s date covered in the elf’s messy scrawl. Zarja doubted he would leave whatever she sought out in plain sight, but with no clear idea of where this thing even was, it was a good place to start.

A faint glitter at the far side of the room, caught her attention. It was a small bee statue, solid gold from the look of it, and it had a satisfying weight in her hands. Her mouth quirked into a small, satisfied smile as she tucked it into a pouch on her belt, and she crept towards the door soundlessly.

She moved through the room to the door, only to pause, fingers barely brushing the handle as her ears pricked at a muffled sound from the hall. She instinctively rolled out of the way, ducking behind a wardrobe just as the door was thrown open hard enough to bounce off the wall, and Aringoth stormed in.

"Useless mercenaries." He ground out. His hands clenched and unclenched as he walked, not even registering the silent, unmoving shape just a few meters away, or the wet footprints on the floor. His muttering hid the whisper of the thief's boots on the polished wooden floor as she turned back to the door.

The floor creaked under her.

Zarja's head snapped up as Aringoth started. Too far from the window to run, a guard outside the door, and no cover to hide her, Zarja could only watch with her heart in her throat as Aringoth turned toward the sound. They both froze, watching each other for too long a moment, both too shocked to respond.

Zarja moved first, the world snapping back into place around her. She dashed across the room, crossing it in three long strides. She didn't think, simply acted in a fraction of a second, drawing the blade on her hip. A half formed yell died on Aringoth's lips as a gloved hand clapped over his mouth, and the blade sliced across his throat.

Zarja emerged from the sewer back where she started, on the northern side of the island. A faint lightening in the eastern sky signaled that dawn was fast approaching.

She started to climb up to the wooden walkway above her. Her leather boots, while supple and supportive, felt traitorous on the slick stone surrounding it. She carefully navigated the rocks, staying as low as she could to avoid detection. Her boots slid, but her gloved fingers grappled onto the wooden supports. She managed to scramble her way up, risking a peek over the bulwark, and was greeted by a pair of boots directly in her line of vision. She immediately ducked back down, biting her lip to contain her curse. Above her the guard paused, suddenly alert. But in the early hour and the fatigue that accompanied it, and with nothing apparently wrong, he relaxed, slumping against one of the nearby crates. Zarja let out a quiet breath. She'd come this far; failure wasn't an option.

Gloved fingers gripping the rough wood above her, her feet carefully moved along the slanted support beams as she climbed further down the dock. Further down the bulwark, she pulled herself up and behind some stacked crates with little difficulty and took her bearings. On her left was the main house, surrounded with mercenaries who patrolled the walkways. On her right were the hives, which seemed unguarded.

The sound of creaking wood and thudding footsteps announced the presence of another patrolling guard on a nearby walkway. Zarja waited for him to pass before she climbed out from her hiding place. She headed toward the bee hives, carefully dodging guards as she went.

A distant shout from the other side of the island briefly drew her attention. There was commotion near the house, and it was slowly starting to spread across the estate as an alarm was raised. Stealth now a secondary priority, she quickened her pace.

The buzzing sound of the insects grew louder as she neared the center of the six hives. The combined drone of the bees and the patter of rain on the lake drowned out all other sound, and settled uncomfortably on her already frayed nerves. She tossed a quick look over her shoulder and, satisfied that no one had seen her, knelt down and pulled out her flint and steel.

The sparks crackled and died in the rain, costing her precious time. When the fire finally came to life, it leapt eagerly to the little wooden fortress. The fire made quick work of the hive and jumped to the next, the flames greedily devouring the hay and wood.

Shouts of alarm mingled with the crackle of the flames as mercenaries realized the hives were ablaze, and her satisfaction quickly turned to alarm.

Shielding her eyes against the smoke, Zarja searched for a way out. With the walkways blocked by the incoming guards, and with no time to navigate the rocks, she turned to the fence. But her boots couldn't find purchase on the smooth wood, and the wall was too high to jump. Behind her, the mercenaries were getting closer, and the sickeningly sweet smoke was blinding.

She sensed the attack a heartbeat before it happened. Zarja whirled and ducked, and the swing that would've cut her in two sailed harmlessly through empty air over her head and embedded itself in the wood above her, throwing the guard off balance in a shower of splinters. She came up with fast blow to the point of the man’s jaw; the guard was out before he hit the ground. She pivoted out of the way of a second guard's swing, and let her momentum carry her into a spin, bringing her leg up and delivering a solid kick to the man's side. Not an incapacitating blow by any means, with the brute protected by his thick leather armor, but it wasn’t meant to be, and it served it's purpose. He staggered and wheezed, and it took little effort for Zarja to grab his shoulders and force him down as her knee came up. There was a sickening crunch as the man's nose shattered, and he collapsed with a groan, blood trailing sluggishly down his face.

The entire sequence took less than four seconds.

Yells from the bridge reminded her that she wasn't out of danger yet. She turned, and the dull glint of the sword still buried in the wall just above waist height caught her attention. She took a few steps back and drew her elven dagger, paused briefly to make sure the contents of the safe were still secure in a pocket of her armor and the bee statue was undamaged, then ran at the wall, bracing one foot against it and pushing herself up so the other rested on the hilt of the sword. The blade shifted, threatening to give out under her weight, but she was already moving further up, sinking her own blade higher up on the wall. She grit her teeth against a lash of white-hot pain in her arm as she scrambled higher.

Her other hand gripped the edge above her, her dagger providing the added leverage she needed to pull herself up. She made it to the top just as the mercenaries reached the hives, ripping her blade free of the wood.

"There!" Too late, one of them spotted her through the thick smoke, but she was already gone, diving into the dark, frigid waters of the lake.

Zarja swam hard for the shore, letting the current carry her away from the island. She was nearly blind in the murky water, but she didn't dare swim on the surface in case the mercenaries were smart enough to carry bows.

Finally, lungs burning and muscles aching, she hauled herself up onto the muddy bank. She collapsed onto her back with a groan, staring up at the dark clouds above her. The only sound was her ragged breathing, and in the distance the faint yelling of panicked guards.

After a few moments a dull throb reminded her of its presence in her left arm. Her right hand came up, feeling for the source of the discomfort, and it came away red and sticky. Looked like the guard had managed a lucky hit after all; he had nicked her just under her leather pauldron. The cut wasn't too deep, but it burned beneath her hand, and was starting to itch. Lying in the mud probably wasn't doing it any favors either.

Zarja forced herself up against her complaining muscles. But it didn't stop the satisfied smirk that curled under her mask as she watched the distant figures of the mercenaries scurrying like ants around the burning hives. Despite their incompetence, she wasn't worried. With no wind, and the steady rain, the fires were already going out and remaining hives were in no danger, but two were already past saving, and the third was unlikely to survive.

She pulled the letter she'd found in the basement safe out of her pocket, thankfully undamaged from the swim, staring at it before a wicked grin stretched over her features. The letter clutched in her hand was proof that she had done it.

Within hours the entire city knew that Goldenglow had been hit. Half of the estate’s hives had been destroyed, the house stripped of valuables. The island and the lake were being searched for whatever was left of Aringoth; his room had been found in chaos, a bloody mess on the floor. No one expected him to be found.

The door to the Ragged Flagon flew open with a crash, drawing the attention of the few in the bar.

Delvin looked up with no small degree of surprise. No one had heard from the Nord woman in almost three days, and most had started to assume the worst. “You’re back! How did –“

“It’s done.” She said simply, giving him a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The mood in the bar lightened considerably, the patrons throwing curious questions at her, but she didn’t stop to elaborate.

In the Cistern, she headed straight to Brynjolf, acutely aware of Mercer’s gaze following her across the room as soon as she entered.

Brynjolf grinned as she approached, relief washing through him and the tension lifting from his body as pulled her into a quick hug. She winced at the contact, and his relief quickly turned to concern. He pulled his hand away reflexively, and it came away red and sticky with blood.

“Lass –“

“Looks worse than it is, I promise.” She interrupted quickly, her lips curving into a faint smile. She pushed aside the torn, bloodstained sleeve of her shirt, revealing the hasty wrappings around her arm. “More importantly,” With her uninjured hand she pulled out the letter from the inner lining of her armor. “The contents of Aringoth’s safe.” She raised a brow at his surprise. ”You doubted me?” she teased, but there was a warning edge in her voice.

“Not for a second.” He grinned, unfolding the letter. He skimmed over the document quickly, his easy smile fading with every word. “What about the elf?” he asked, his voice suddenly very serious.

Zarja looked somewhat surprised by the question, but answered, “Dead.”

“Good.” Her brow inched higher in a silent question. “Whatever you did, lass, it was a kindness.” Brynjolf said darkly, his green eyes glittering in the torchlight. “Aringoth sold Goldenglow. Maven would’ve skinned the mad bastard alive.” He shook his head, examining the paper more closely. “There’s no name on the certificate, just this odd symbol. Any idea what it means, lass?”

Zarja took the proffered parchment. The symbol was strange, but there was something almost familiar about it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a shadowmark.” She frowned, handing the letter back. “But it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen.”

“Blast. I’ll check my sources and speak to Mercer. In the meantime,” He said, folding the parchment and turning his attention back to Zarja, who was stifling a yawn. Hidden in the shadow of her hood, her eyes lacked their usual brightness above dark circles of exhaustion. “Get some rest, lass.”

"But I still need to-"

"Whatever it is, it can wait. You're a wreck." Brynjolf said bluntly. "Go get some sleep. You've done your part. I'll take care of the rest." When she didn't move he added, "That's an order, lass." With as much authority as he could muster.

Zarja snorted – they both knew he didn’t have any actual authority over her - , but inclined her head slightly. "Yes, sir." She said dryly to the Guild Second. Brynjolf waved off her teasing, shaking his head, and Zarja headed for her room, but sleep was the last thing on her mind. She pulled off her armor, gingerly maneuvering her injured arm out of the leather curiass and the sleeve of her tunic, and tossed it into a pile at the foor of her bed before heading to the improvised bathroom separated from the rest of her room by a wooden screen.

While not as advanced as Solitude or Markarth, The Rift had its share of dwemer ruins, and over time the hold's inhabitants had managed to replicate some of their more simple technologies - most importantly, the ability to heat and carry water through endless meters of pipes. The thieves simply tapped into the pipes installed by the nobility.

The old pipes groaned, only releasing a short trickle of water into the tub. Zarja frowned, urging the piping along with an impatient kick. After an unnerving shudder and one final loud complaint, water sputtered forth, growing into a steady stream. The water smelled of a faint metallic tang from the endless feet of piping, but it was still infinitely better than the freezing green waters of Lake Honrich.

Zarja soaked until the water was tepid, letting the heat and sweet smelling soaps soothe her aching muscles and growing headache, and changed into a fresh tunic and breeches - dark colored like most of the things she owned. She started on the chore of repairing her armor. It was slow, methodical work, but relaxing.

The peaceful silence didn’t last long. News of her return had spread quickly. By the time she’d finished caring for her water-damaged armor, half the Guild had come to her for the story. She’d given them enough details to satisfy their curiosity, but for the most part remained tensely silent.

She paused her task to talk to Tonilia about materials for repair. Returning to the Cistern, she saw the door to Mercer's office open, and Brynjolf leaning over the desk, his back towards her as he spoke to the Breton. She knew him well enough to recognize the tense set of his shoulders, and the cause wasn't hard to guess. The Guildmaster was furious over the news of Goldenglow’s sale. He glanced over at Zarja once, the unreadable expression sending a chill down her spine. There was something almost like approval in the look, but there was also something very dangerous that she couldn't name.

Zarja kept her face carefully neutral, turning back to her room and her chore. She pushed the uncomfortable feeling from her mind as she set to cleaning her weapons. The cleaning rag came away stained red with blood.

She stared at it for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. She roughly shoved the Aldmeri blade back in its scabbard, throwing it onto the pile of gear at the foot of her bed. Pausing only to throw a change of clothes, and some coin, she stalked across the Cistern, strapping on her weapons belt and her cloak as she went. No one stopped her when she slipped out of the hidden entrance and into the city streets.

[twenty6magazine]

PFW AW17 - Day 4

Issey Miyake

There is probably very few locations in Paris as iconic and full of history as the Hôtel de Ville. It is underneath the stunning baroque ceiling of the Hôtel de Ville; and bathed in the graduating blue land magenta lights do we see Issey Miyake’s AW17 collection.

Inspired by the breath-taking colours of the Aurora Borealis, we see the stunning Auroral collection made from the raw wool of Shetland Sheep born right under the Northern Lights. Each look creates unique and highly sculptural silhouettes — with fabrics colours alternating seamlessly from one glimpse to another. Cocoon like shapes and sportswear elements add a streetwear element to — finished with woven ultra-suede strips that create a wonderful amalgamation of shape, fabric, technology and colour. 

Each and every season, Issey Miyake succeeds in pushing the boundaries of Fabric technology; this season we see their experimentations with Base Stretch and Steam Stretch techniques, wherein they overlap linear patterns to create optical illusions, and expanding steam stretch techniques by layering colours that add an extra element of shine and shimmer to the pieces. The result is a breathtaking series of accordion dresses, and technical outerwear, beautifully made skirts and trousers and a quirky and fantastic collection of accessories. Overall, yet another breath-taking collection from Issey Miyake - a perfect example of the brand’s modern vision and spirit of innovation. 

Christian Wijnants

Christian Wijnants displayed a collection packed full of divergence and disparity. Almost every piece sported a print which was abounded with meticulous colour and detail. The Belgian designer played a mix-and-match game with florals and paisleys in silks, presented both synthetics and knits in a palette of rich and bright shades, pleating many of the fabrics for extra texture and contrast. From under layer to over layer,  the combination of natural and synthetic fabrics gave the collection an intelligent inconsistency where no two pieces looked the same.

The collection seemed to be inspired by travel; places Wijnants had been, and even the ones he hasn’t, describing influences as an ‘imaginary journey to Persian territories’. The designer told Vogue “The idea was a border-less world. I wanted to take an imaginary trip and I have a lot of clients and friends who are originally from those countries. I find those women and cultures very inspiring.”

This shaped designs consisting of burnt-orange shearling coats, patterned sweaters, floaty dresses and sheer ribbed or organza pants. Some pieces were re-visited from his pre-fall collection including baggy jeans and oversized knits. Pieces came together for an overall effect that, while the designs were busy in appearance, they evoked a strangely relaxed nature.

 Zuhair Murad

Mini-skirts, peasant blouses, and floaty dresses all inspired by the 1960’s, provided the framework for a glamorous and textured collection by Zuhair Murad, strongly emphasized by Francoise Hardy’s heyday in 1968. Garments ranged from tweed and tulle ruffles, to the beautiful embroidery-intensive numbers which have become the designer’s. This season, his evening wear pieces  seemed a little less embellished than usual, with the exception of a couple of feather and beaded number. However, this relative focus on simplicity took nothing away from the grace and elegance of the pieces that he sent down the runway. Jackets were given floral embroidery in pink and white, along with miniskirts adorned with crystal buttons.

A show stopping piece was a graphic patchwork coat in black-and-white rabbit fur with fox sleeves. For where there was a lack in embellishment, Murad made up for with a burgeoning line of fashion jewelry, which added a little extra sparkle to the mix. 

Andrew GN

This season, Andrew GN gave us impeccable embroidery, chic fringe trimming, and sublime pearl beading all unified to produce a range  boasting impeccable attention to detail and glamour reminiscent of the late 80’s. Sartorial tributes were given towards globalization and the convergence of cultures. Once applied to his AW17 collection, these elements resulted in stunning tribal references, intricate knitwear and bead-work, and graphic linear design details.  Andrew GN was inspired by his mixed heritage and the places he has traveled to throughout his life. According to Andrew GN, “When you think about it, nobody’s pure these days. I’m one-quarter Japanese, three-quarters Chinese, born in Singapore, live everywhere…. The more we advance, I think this is how the world is going to be, so you can’t resist it”.

Some show-stopping pieces included a black jersey top with white geometric tribal thread-embroidery that was based on Egyptian motifs but simultaneously evoked Scandinavian knits. There was also a  white Klimt-esque swirl on a matching wool crepe set — its fringed kick hem swinging down the runway like a grass skirt, reminiscent of exotic Maori drawings. Every detail in the collection, from the handmade buttons to the embroideries and the trimmings show Andrew GN as not only a fashion designer, but a craftsmen, innovator, and artist.

TWENTY6X

Words by: Hannah Tan and Alice Lamaison

[newstfionline]

The Parachute Generation

By Brook Larmer, NY Times Magazine, Feb. 2, 2017

When I first met Yang Jinkai, two days before he boarded a plane for America, the smog hanging over his industrial home city, Shenyang, had turned the sun into a ghostly orb. The 16-year-old paced around the family apartment as his mother labeled his suitcases and packed them with the comforts of home: quilted pajamas, chopsticks, instant noodles. She gestured toward a lone memento that would remain in his bedroom, a life-size needlepoint portrait of her only child, woven in shimmering gold thread. “I worked on that all year,” she said. “I knew this moment would come.”

Yang had never traveled outside China. But he had already chosen a new first name for his life in America, Korbin (“That sounds American, right?”), and was daydreaming about the adventure ahead. “It will be magical,” he said. “I’ll make lots of American friends. I’d like to have an American girlfriend. Maybe”--he shot a glance at his father--”I’ll even get a gun.” Over the summer, Korbin had been working on his English by watching, perhaps too zealously, the American television series “Criminal Minds.”

To help Korbin escape the competitive straitjacket of the Chinese education system, his father had paid nearly $40,000 to an education consultancy to get him enrolled in a public high school in Michigan. The Yang family’s ultimate goal was for Korbin to attend a top American university, and the name of his new high school, Oxford, only added to the allure. It didn’t matter that the place had no connection to the British university or that this Oxford was a small town north of Detroit. “My father,” Korbin said, “really likes the idea of an Oxford diploma.”

Even as U.S.-China relations have slipped toward mutual antagonism, the flood of Chinese students coming to the United States has continued to rise. Roughly 370,000 students from the mainland are enrolled in American high schools and universities, six times more than a decade ago. Their financial impact--$11.4 billion was contributed to the American economy in 2015, according to the Department of Commerce--has turned education into one of America’s top “exports” to China.

It is a strange historical moment when the elites of a rising power send their only sons and daughters, products of China’s former one-child policy, to the schools of a geopolitical rival. Yet the idea of a liberal Western education exerts an almost talismanic hold over China’s ruling classes. While the country’s educational emphasis on rote memorization churns out some of the world’s best test-takers, many Chinese families harbor worries that diverge sharply from those of the tiger parents of popular conception. They fret about the toll competition exacts from their coddled offspring; they wonder if their child’s creativity is being stifled. Even President Xi Jinping, who is presiding over a crackdown on Western influences in China’s schools, allowed his daughter to attend Harvard. According to a 2016 survey conducted by a Shanghai-based research firm, 83 percent of China’s millionaires are planning to send their children to school abroad. The average age, according to the poll, has dropped to 16 today from 18 in 2014--the first time it has reached the high-school level.

In 2005, only 641 Chinese students were enrolled in American high schools. By 2014, that student population approached 40,000--a 60-fold increase in a single decade--and it now accounts for nearly half of all international high-school students in the United States. “Parents realize that they have to start earlier if they want their children to get into a top U.S. university,” says Nini Suet, founder of Shang Learning, a boutique consultancy with headquarters in Beijing that charges $25,000 to $40,000 to help Chinese kids prepare for and apply to American boarding schools. “Families are looking for any edge they can get.”

As a new administration vowing “America First” settles into the White House, there is uncertainty about how long this phenomenon can last. It already faces headwinds within China. A slowing economy has cut into family savings, and a depreciating currency makes American educations more expensive. There are also fewer Chinese students to go around: The population of 18-to-23-year-olds has dropped by nearly a quarter in the last decade.

But the exodus of Chinese students continues for now, driven not just by a push from China but also by a pull from the United States. For each rich Chinese kid who enters an American school--whether public or private, college or high school--the multiplier effect means that entire communities can be buoyed by the buying power of the world’s second-largest economy.

That’s the hope, at least. The reality is more complicated. Much of the money spent by Chinese families desperate for American diplomas ends up with the intermediary companies that connect them with cash-hungry schools. These matches have yielded unusual results. According to an article in Foreign Policy magazine, nearly 60 percent of the high-school students end up in religious schools, despite coming from the world’s largest atheist state. (Their parents welcome the messages of safety, discipline and moral values that emanate from these faith-based institutions.) Another cohort winds up in what are effectively diploma mills, which confer visas and credentials but little adult supervision.

Public high schools are the newest frontier: Less than 5 percent of all Chinese “parachute kids” (as they’ve come to be called) are currently in public schools, but certain U.S. school districts have begun to rely on them to offset budget cuts and increase cultural diversity at the same time as private academies are reaching saturation points.

Few public school districts have deeper ties to China than Oxford, Mich., outside Detroit. In 2010, the town sought to create the first pipeline of Chinese students into a public high school, one that embodied its high school’s motto--”where the globe is our classroom”--even as it brought tuition money to the school. As the number of foreign students grew, other Midwestern schools sought to emulate Oxford’s success. But when a Beijing education company proposed building a multimillion-dollar dormitory for Chinese students on the Oxford campus, a community battle ensued.

Chance put Korbin’s family at the starting point of Oxford’s experiment, in Shenyang. His parents grew up without proper educations in rural villages haunted by the memories of famine. His father, Yang Huaiguo, migrated to Shenyang and scavenged for scrap metal before finding success in the boiler-repair business and real estate. But he worried about Korbin’s education and the almost unrelenting pressure to study for the two exams that determine a Chinese student’s future: the high-school entrance exam, the zhongkao, and the university-entrance exam, the gaokao. There seemed to be no way out, until Korbin’s school opened an international wing in partnership with Oxford. The pitch was enticing: After spending 10th grade in the program, Korbin was guaranteed a place at Oxford High School for two years, until graduation.

His father insisted that this wasn’t just about family prestige or future job prospects. “I also want my son to understand, in a way that I never could,” he said, “that the world is bigger than Shenyang, bigger than China.”

On his first days in Oxford, Korbin marveled at the blue skies, so different from northeastern China, and the absence of skyscrapers. All of America, in his TV-fueled imagination, was supposed to look like New York. Beyond its main street and century-old storefronts, Oxford (population 3,500) is a patchwork of gravel pits and horse stables, wooded subdivisions and a strip mall containing a single Chinese restaurant. Korbin’s host family lived in a house on a leafy cul-de-sac, with two basketball hoops in the driveway and a trampoline out back. Suddenly Korbin had four blond American siblings and a host mother he called “Mom.” His host father worked as an engineer in an automobile industry that blamed the loss of thousands of jobs in the last recession on a single culprit: China.

Korbin immersed himself in Americana: football games, big-box stores, even a Christian megachurch with its own rock band. He was hardly alone in his American adventure. Michigan has become a particularly popular destination for Chinese public-high-school students in the United States, and more than a dozen kids from Shenyang lived nearby. Even at Oxford, where Korbin and 23 other students ended up because their academic program in China and its agent, the BCC International Education Group, had partnered with the school, there were another 19 Chinese kids brought in by a Beijing-based company, Weiming Education Group. The two crowds didn’t mix much, in part because most of the Weiming students lived in a dormitory at Rochester College, a liberal-arts Christian school half an hour away. Korbin felt lucky with his American home stay.

His life in America was very different from that of his predecessors. When the first Chinese students arrived in the United States in the wake of the Cultural Revolution--and later, after the 1989 Tiananmen massacre--many were so poor that they collected aluminum cans or worked janitorial jobs to survive. Today’s Chinese students tend to be far wealthier than their American counterparts, particularly in public high schools. Even among the middle-class students at Oxford, the Chinese kids stirred up envy, and some resentment, by flaunting multiple versions of just-released iPhones. (Korbin had only one.) The Chinese boys carried hundreds of dollars in cash and often wore a different pair of designer sneakers--Nike, Puma, Adidas--each day. Korbin’s Chinese housemate, Oscar Kou, who liked to talk about his father’s fleet of luxury cars, spent several thousand dollars on a laptop so powerful that it blew out the fuses in their host family’s house.

Making American friends wasn’t as simple as Korbin had imagined. In the hallways at Oxford High School, whose student body numbers 1,845, the Chinese kids clustered together, chattering in Mandarin. Korbin longed to interact with his American classmates, but every time he tried, the conversations fizzled when he couldn’t understand their cultural references or slang. Still, Korbin made no secret of his mission. “I’m a Chinese boy,” he told his classes, “but I really, really want to make American friends. It’s the most important thing to me.”

Perhaps his best chance came at the homecoming dance that fall. As he walked across the floor under the spinning lights of a disco ball, Korbin worked up his nerve and asked an American girl to dance. She just laughed. Another girl, another rejection. Finally, the third entreaty succeeded--just as a slow song started up and the dancers turned into a tangle of embracing couples. Korbin’s feet stopped, and his arms locked at his sides. “I totally froze,” he says. The girl drifted off to rejoin her friends, leaving Korbin alone, wondering if a Chinese boy could ever find his footing in America.

If your initial encounter with William Skilling took place in the Beijing Capital International Airport, as mine did, it would be easy to take him for a missionary. Dressed in crisply ironed khakis and a white button-down shirt, his short hair meticulously combed, he was headed to a dusty city in the Chinese interior. As superintendent of Oxford Community Schools, Skilling did see himself as a sort of evangelist for global education. On this trip to China, his 19th, he was reviewing plans for Weiming to build its multimillion-dollar dorm on land bordering Oxford High School. “It will be the first of its kind at any American public school,” he said.

For Skilling, a former high-school government and economics teacher, the dorm project was the culmination of years of networking with Chinese officials, educators and businessmen. His first foray into the China market came in 2008, when with the Chinese government’s help he started what would become one of the largest Mandarin-language programs in American schools. Today more than 2,300 students in Oxford schools, K through 12, take daily classes in Chinese. “The greatest challenge we face in American education,” Skilling said, “is preparing students to work and live in a global world that is changing 24-7.” The Mandarin classes were also part of a local government plan to lure Chinese investment to southeastern Michigan. “There was a reason that we, as a state, weren’t making inroads into China,” Skilling told me. “The Chinese knew Michigan was negative, blaming China for its woes. The way to turn this around was to pay China the highest compliment: by building a world-class Mandarin-language program.”

Beijing returned the favor. In 2013, Hanban--the state agency that runs China’s network of controversial Confucius Institutes, which promote Chinese culture, language and propaganda worldwide--recognized Oxford Community Schools as the “Confucius Classroom of the Year.” Skilling parlayed such recognition into sister-school agreements with 20 Chinese schools. Over the past seven years, at least 40 different Oxford teachers and administrators have visited China. One major deal was struck with Korbin’s public school in Shenyang, which opened an international school for Chinese students, like Korbin, aiming to go to an American high school with a famous name.

With that deal, Skilling had lined up his first supply of Chinese students for Oxford. He also devised a way around the United States regulations that restricted international students to just one year in public high schools. By inviting a local college to sponsor the F-1 student visas for Chinese students in their second year, Skilling maintained that they could remain at the high school--and keep paying tuition--so long as they were also enrolled in and paying tuition for full-time college-level courses. The second year was important: Chinese families want their children to have enough time to prepare for the American college process. The Department of Homeland Security raised no immediate objections, Skilling told me. “This had never been done before, so there were no regulations or road maps to follow,” he said. “This was literally a blank slate.”

Soon, Oxford was attracting Chinese companies with even bigger ambitions. In a trip to Michigan in late 2012, Weiming’s president, Lin Hao, laid out a vision in which 10,000 Chinese students would enroll in high schools in the United States, starting with experimental districts in the American heartland. Weiming, which bills itself as one of China’s largest private education companies, has followed a similar strategy at home, building 15 campuses with more than 30,000 students in nine provincial cities. As Lin told a visiting superintendent from rural southern Ohio: “In China, we have an old saying: ‘Revolution begins in the countryside.’”

Within a year, Oxford signed a memorandum of understanding with Weiming that ensured an even greater supply of Chinese students--up to 200 of them annually for the next 20 years. For each student, Weiming would pay Oxford Community Schools $10,000 a year. It was a boon for a district facing budgetary pressures, but it was significantly less than the $40,000 that Chinese families paid Weiming for the full package of tuition, room and board, insurance and English-support classes. (The company says its fees have since gone down to about $30,500, as it competes for China’s middle-class market.)

Weiming also offered American public schools a bigger prize. If the number of Chinese students reached a certain threshold--from 80 to 100 students--the company promised to build a multimillion-dollar student center and dormitory, at no cost to the school. As the Weiming contingent at Oxford grew, architects in Beijing and Michigan began drawing up blueprints for the dorm. Shortly after I met Skilling at the airport in the spring of 2014, he returned to Beijing to pore over blueprints of the proposed dorm with Lin. They met in Lin’s office, which was designed to replicate the room where Chairman Mao met President Nixon in 1972 to re-establish relations between their two countries. The wall behind Lin’s desk is covered with antique maps, one for each Chinese province where Weiming has built a school. It wouldn’t be long, perhaps, before a map of Michigan adorned the wall. “Lin Hao and I understand each other,” Skilling told me, “because we’re both visionaries.”

The loudspeakers in Oxford High School started blaring halfway through Korbin’s music-appreciation class. “This is a lockdown!” a voice announced. “An armed intruder has entered the building!” Korbin’s classmates leapt from their seats and, crouching low, rushed toward the door.

Korbin didn’t understand the commotion. His English had improved, but his vocabulary was limited--and the loudspeakers were always a challenge. He had gotten used to the rock music that played between classes, creating the kind of happy chaos that would never be allowed in a regimented Chinese school. But this time the tone was grave: “Teachers, secure your classrooms!” Korbin’s confusion only deepened when the music instructor hustled everyone into the girls’ bathroom next door. “Hurry up!” she yelled. When Korbin made it to the bathroom stalls, the teacher locked the door behind him--and they waited, in hushed excitement, until the drill was over.

Later, Korbin laughed about the experience. He had nearly forgotten that his mother’s fears about American life--the guns, riots, school shootings--had almost scuttled his chances of studying in the United States. His father had made a reconnaissance visit to the country before he started, largely to reassure his wife that it was safe enough for their son. The only dangers Korbin faced in Oxford came from his innocent campaign for American friends.

One day, a group of jocks and slackers invited Korbin into the boys’ bathroom for a few puffs from an electronic cigarette. The initiation was unusual for a strait-laced Chinese kid, but he was thrilled to be part of an American posse. “Cool kids never study,” he was told, so Korbin, until then a conscientious A student, eased off his schoolwork. He started lifting weights, thinking he might attract a girlfriend “after I build some muscle.”

But when his new friends began pressing Korbin to join in hazing other kids, he pulled away. He wanted nothing to do with shouting racial epithets at the school’s few African-American students or taunting other Chinese kids with curse words in Mandarin. “I tried so hard to make American friends, but I lost all of my own Chinese style and character,” Korbin told me last year. “I am not that eager to be part of American culture anymore. I would like to be myself, Chinese.”

Korbin and Oscar left their host family and moved in with four other Chinese students under the care of a local grandmother. Korbin stopped lifting weights. He no longer wanted an American girlfriend. He barely interacted with American students anyway, because everyone in his college-level classes--the requirement to maintain his visa during his second year--was Chinese.

Still, Korbin remembers his senior year fondly. After he regained his academic focus, his grade-point average rose to near the top of his class--a 3.96--and his standardized-test scores climbed just in time for his college applications. It felt good to be a nerd again. “I realized that I’m an only son, the last of my family,” he told me. “My parents pay a lot for me to come here, so why shouldn’t I study hard?”

Until October 2014, Oxford’s move into China’s orbit--the Mandarin-language program, the influx of Chinese students--had met little resistance. But the proposed dorm for Chinese students hit a nerve.

Behind the scenes, a group of Oxford citizens began looking into the international program. “I don’t think the community objects to having foreign students here,” says Kallie Roesner-Meyers, a horse-stable owner who started the group, known as Team 20. “But there was so much secrecy and misinformation around the whole China setup that we needed to find out more.” In the spring of 2015, Team 20, which sent the district a flurry of Freedom of Information Act requests, discovered, among other things, that the school board had agreed to a 20-year deal based on Skilling’s recommendation.

In response to communication from Roesner-Meyers, federal agents questioned Skilling about his consulting work for Weiming. One of them also wanted to know more about the visa maneuver by which Chinese students were staying for two years instead of one.

Skilling retired later that year, and Weiming, without giving any explanation, put the dorm project on hold.

By November, the Department of Homeland Security offered a verdict. The visa maneuver would not be permitted in the future, a blow to the model Oxford pioneered.

Oxford has not been punished, but it will no longer be allowed to keep Chinese students for more than one year on its campus. The current crop of 41 second-year Chinese students has been allowed to stay, though they must now take all of their classes at Rochester College, the institution that sponsors their visas, instead of Oxford High School. In June, after a semester of isolation, these kids will even earn their high-school diplomas. The future of the first-year students is up in the air. They may not be able to graduate from Oxford next year, and it is too late to re-enter China’s gaokao system. So they and their families may be back on the international-student carousel, scrambling to find another school to attend next year.

Korbin graduated summa cum laude. In the fall, Korbin headed to Pennsylvania State University. His parents were proud that he had gotten into a Top 50 university where almost 2,500 Chinese students were already enrolled.

When I visited Korbin last summer in Shenyang, he took me to an American-style craft-beer pub his father partly owns. Over a game of pool, he spoke positively about his experience at Oxford. Still, he admitted, he left Michigan after two years without a single American friend. That surprised him. “Weirdly, I think the experience made me appreciate Chinese culture even more,” he said. It’s a common sentiment among Chinese students abroad, who find that their foreign experiences sharpen their sense of national pride. Over the summer, Korbin started delving into Chinese history books and training in kung fu. In America, he found his Chinese core.

Now halfway through his first year at Penn State, Korbin can spend entire days without speaking a word of English. “I’m around my Chinese friends all the time,” he says. “I can’t get a chance to know American friends.” The current political climate may only isolate him further. Korbin is in America legally, studying hard and leaning toward a major in electrical engineering. But how welcoming is a country that increasingly regards his homeland as an economic and security threat? If Trump is serious about being tough on trade, Chinese students, while not in the foreground of such a fight, could be an easy lever for either side to pull. The collateral damage of restricting visas would be devastating, not only for the students themselves but also for high schools and universities, especially across the Midwest, that have become dependent on the billions of dollars the Chinese contribute economically every year.

An even bigger threat may lie within China. Late last year, President Xi’s ideological campaign against foreign influences targeted the kind of schools that prepared Korbin for America. How this crackdown will affect the flow of Chinese students overseas is unclear. Parents may be compelled to send their children abroad at even younger ages to escape the closing cage.

For Korbin, the lack of American buddies and reawakened sense of national identity notwithstanding, high school in America still left a deep impression on him. Last Christmas, after exams, he went back not to Shenyang, but to Oxford. His second host mother gave him two hoodies and some of his favorite chocolate, and cooked a Christmas meal. Korbin presented her with a mug and played with the dogs he had helped care for as puppies. “I definitely wish I was still there,” he told me, and he sounded like just another first-year college kid, missing home.