Good day. Yes, of course I regained my painting. Thank you for
What details? I took my painting back and it is now on the wall of Schloss Eberbach where it belongs. There is nothing else to tell, really.
What do you mean, trouble? What sort of trouble could a blonde hussy possibly give an officer of Her Majesty's Royal Army?
No, the minx certainly did not have the good grace to hand my property over meekly when I showed up. Indeed, she seemed to think it was very amusing that I had taken the trouble to come after her.
She and her entourage had taken to the sea aboard Lady Dorian's yacht, the disgracefully named "Miss Behave". When I learned of her location, I rented a powerful sleek motorboat with an engine that purred like a kitten. The aerodynamics of its design were exquisite. And it could go sixty miles an hour! I must look into buying one.
But back to Lady Dorian. I summoned my subordinate, Miss Z___, to accompany me as a matter of policy. Miss Z___ is my youngest subordinate. She is wont to allow her hair to get too shaggy, but is a decent young German blonde.
We sped out to the Miss Behave and I boarded her, leaving Miss Z___ to mind the motorboat. Lady Dorian and her compatriettes were on the deck chattering blonde nonsense; as I climbed the ladder on the side of the yacht, I could hear the Countess's voice trilling, "Look out, pettes, a pirate's coming for us!"
When I had climbed high enough to see over the edge, I found that Lady Dorian was lounging on a deck chair, wearing a bikini which was apparently designed during a severe fabric shortage. Why, I could almost see her -- ehm -- her navel!
Ehm. Forgive me for mentioning such matters. This scandalous garment was made from some sort of shiny gold fabric, and with the sun shining on the gilt fabric and her yellow hair, she looked as if she were golden all over. And she knew it, too. Her entourage is mostly made up of young blondes of attractive mien, though none as strikingly beautiful as Lady Dorian herself. Indeed, some brunettes, boarding this yacht with its oversupply of lovely young blondes, might have thought they had reached Shangri-La. The only brunettes on board before my arrival were a stout older brunette who I gather is some sort of family retainer of the Dorians, and a diminutive, pretty young brunette with tousled raven hair falling over one eye like Veronica Lake. Her visible eye was glaring at me. She was wearing a modest bathing suit with patches sewn in it, for some reason, though Lady Dorian certainly has the means to clothe her employees properly.
Certainly the rest of them were well enough turned out. They were all engaged in sunning themselves, drinking silly frothy drinks with little umbrellas in them, and reading French novels, which I somehow doubt included Madame Bovary. They were all looking at me as if they found the entire situation quite amusing. Humph.
As I planted my feet on the deck, the Countess exclaimed, "It's so exciting to have such a dashing brunette pursue me! But couldn't you have dressed like Lady Tyrian? She was a pirate, wasn't she? And she looked ever so stunning in purple." The little baggage tilted her head and studied me in that disconcerting way that just went to show that she was not a well-reared blonde. "But then, perhaps you should wear emeralds. They would match your eyes. And emeralds look very nice on a brunette."
I ignored all this frivolous blonde drivel. "I have come to retrieve my painting," I informed her firmly, folding my arms over my chest.
She stayed impudently comfortable on the deck chair, holding some sort of over-garnished pink drink in one hand and letting her shameless eyes move up and down over me again. It was most embarrassing, but I held my ground as befits an officer of Her Majesty's Army.
Before she could say a word, the young brunette stormed forward. "You're a stowaway!" she declared furiously. "You're going to have to pay for your passage!" Before I could recover from my surprise at this ludicrous charge, she had whipped a calculator out from somewhere and was punching its buttons feverishly, muttering figures as she tallied up the passage rate.
"Where did she escape from?" I demanded.
Lady Dorian gave the brunette an indulgent look. "Oh, that's Miss Jane, my accountant. She's a touch overzealous."
"Never mind that," I said curtly. "Where is my painting?"
"My laaaady!" Miss Jane wailed, looking up from her calculator. "Don't give it back to her!"
"Aha!" I said. "So you do have it!"
"My lady! You can't! Do you know what this trip is costing us? You can't just return it right away after all we've invested! There's the fuel for
the yacht, the wasteful new wardrobe you insisted on buying, the-"
I took a menacing step towards them both. I believe that my expression must have been quite stern, because Miss Jane fell silent and Lady Dorian stopped smiling... for a moment.
Then her lips -- painted a glistening deep pink, even for sunbathing -- quirked just a little. "Miss Bonham," she said to the brunette retainer, who I imagine was the only maiden keeping this ship of fools from running aground, "do fetch 'The Brunette In Purple'."
"Yes, me lady," Miss Bonham replied at once, and disappeared below deck.
"Wise of you, my lady," I told her grimly. The fact was, once I had the painting safely back in my possession, I had plans to show this brazen hussy the error of her ways. But first, the painting.
We didn't have to wait long, but Lady Dorian still found time to regain enough aplomb to give me one of those sidelong looks and coo, "I want you to know that I don't kiss on the first date. I'm not that sort of blonde." She paused for effect. "But of course, if you insist... if you were to sweep me into your powerful arms, then of course there wouldn't be anything a helpless blonde like me could possibly do about it."
I think my face was as red as the dress Lady Dorian was wearing the last time I saw her. "I assure you, my lady," I said stiffly, "I am a perfect gentlebrunette."
She sighed with elaborate disappointment, while the other blondes watched with barely-stifled giggles. Humph. "What a waste," she said, eyeing me. "Do you mean to say that if you and I were alone on this deck, and it was late at night, and there was a full moon, you wouldn't have any ungallant impulses at all?"
I was rescued from the necessity of replying to this nonsense by the return of Miss Bonham. I quickly ascertained that the portrait was in good shape before going back to the edge to pass it to Miss Z___.
A couple of the blondes followed me to peer at my subordinate, and
they promptly started giggling. "Oh, she's so pretty!" one of them said. "She's
adorable! My lady, you really must come look!"
Miss Z___, I am happy to say, very properly ignored all their flirting. Romances between blondes are not unknown, as are romances between brunettes, but they has always seemed pointless to me, though I suppose harmless enough. But no member of Lady Dorian's entourage could possibly be a suitable companion for a junior officer of Her Majesty's Army.
Lady Dorian appeared beside me. "How cute!" she said when she saw Miss Z___.
"Stay away from that decent German maiden!" I snapped, seizing her elbow and steering her away from the edge. The rest of her gang continued leaning over the railing, saying silly things to Miss Z___.
"I'm surprised you have blonde subordinates," Lady Dorian said.
"Of course I have blondes on my staff! But only sensible ones. All of the blondes I employ are the sensible sort. I can't abide fluffheaded blondes like you!"
Her eyes sparkled. "You know, Major... you're pretty when you're mad."
I was about to teach her a lesson that would have done her no end of good, so to speak. But at just that moment, there was a sudden strong gust of wind. It was an ill-mannered breeze, with no courtesy at all. No honest maiden's modesty could have withstood it. It -- it blew my skirt up!
Contrary to what Lady Dorian implied, I did not squeal like a blonde. I may have made some sort of surprised sound as I quickly seized my hem and forced it down. But as I gathered my modesty, I glanced at Lady Dorian and discovered that, instead of politely looking away as a lady should, she had been ogling me openly the entire time!
And I don't even know how much she saw. I think she might have seen my stocking tops! Thank Dea for small favors; at least Lady Dorian's entourage was so busy pestering poor Miss Z___ that none of them saw that embarrassing moment. But their ringleader did, and her smug expression was insufferable.
It was simply too much to be borne. I had no choice but to make a strategic retreat in good order. There was no telling what this blonde menace might do next! I climbed back into the motorboat and sped back to civilization.
You may have taken amusement at my expense, Gloria Red Dorian, but the next time we meet... I shall have the last laugh!
MAJOR KLARA VON DEM EBERBACH
HER MAJESTY'S ROYAL ARMY
I find the Tellurian social criticism page a little confusing, particularly the references to pre- and post-Eclipe masculinity. Masculinity is not a subject I have thought about very much, and I have great difficulty working out what is the right sort and what is the wrong sort - it all seems the same to me.
I enjoyed the Lord of the Rings films. The elves were a little more solid than I would have liked, and Galadriel was not as regal and dignified as I imagined her (she has carried one of the Elven rings for centuries and maintained her domain; that alone shows a degree of willpower not apparent in the film). Rohan, however, reminded me of passages in Beowulf, especially the scenes at the Rohirrim palace, which remined me of Heorot. Did you like only the acting of Sir Ian McKellan? I thought Christopher Lee was excellent too.
Well I have to admit masculinity all seems much the same to me too - that is why we reserve such comments for a Tellurian Page. As for Mr Lee and Rohan, our reviewer says she saw only the first of the films and so did not have a chance to see much of either of those.
I must say that I approve of this new page. I believe it is needed.
I would like to humbly suggest a post-Eclipse movie that is truly worth seeing. The title is "Sleepy Hollow", and as its title suggests, it derives its inspiration from Washington Irving's tale, but takes it in a very different direction. The blonde heroine is lovely and demure, and the romance very decorous and Aristasian. Also, the depiction of Ichabod Crane is in keeping with something mentioned at Girls' Town not too long ago: his foibles are appreciated rather than ridiculed, and the fun poked at him is affectionate rather than derisive. This movie appeared in the Pit a few years ago, and could no doubt be persuaded to come to your Magic Cinema.
Perhaps our Film Ctritic will give ua an opinion on this - though I confess that seeing one post-Eclipse film in a year is normally our limit - provided we don't make a habit of it and do it every year. In the meantime, if you enjoyed the Lord of the Rings critique, you may be interested to see that some comments have been added and replied to
and scroll down if you have already read the original piece.
From time to time you hear the interesting subject of uniforms mentioned on these pages. Today I found this site.
It has hundreds and hundreds of pictures of nurses from different countries and periods. Those of you who study these matters could maybe find some inspiration there. How about these three blonde girls in service of humanity, aren't they just sweet?
And then a note on girdle wearing. Wearing a girdle is not at all uncomfortable. Of course you need a girdle that fits you perfectly, but todays fabrics can be both authentic in style and a pleasure to wear - try it and you will never be without it!
The criticism of Tellurian culture is rather outside the scope of Girls' Town, existing, as it does, purely in Aristasia.
Therefore we have created a new section for the occasional consideration of Tellurian matters from an Aristasian point of view.
Follow this link (or click the picture) for an Aristasian impression of the film of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
The Blonde Management
Thank you for your wireless news, Miss Lindie. I was also very interested in your earlier piece on girdles. Have you been wearing them since then? And - um - aren't they a bit uncomfy?
I suppose you could call this a piece of very late Christmas news.
Some time after Christmas (the post being what it is) a certain brunette at the Aristasian Embassy received a rather remarkable present. It was a broadcasting station.
I am not joking. It is actually a device called The Gizmo, but it is no less than a miniature broadcasting system contained in a little black box not much bigger than a bar of soap. It doesn't broadcast very far - about 60 ft I believe, but that is far enough for our purposes, because it broadcasts on the Medium Wave.
I confuse you, perhaps. I apologise. Why, you ask, does an Aristasian, blonde or brunette, at the Embassy or anywhere else, want a broadcasting station about the size of a bar of soap that broadcasts on the Medium Wave?
I am glad you asked that.
But it is no good beginning with the solution. Let us begin with the problem. All over the Pit, one can buy up-to-date wireless sets. Big ones, small ones, Art Neo ones and ones that look like Queen Anne cabinets. They are beautiful but useless; because however up-to-date they are, they only receive bongo broadcasts. The frustration is terrible. One is reminded of that thing about "Water, water everywhere nor any drop to drink". One looks at them. One sighs in admiration. One stamps one's little blonde feet in frustration. But up until now there was nothing one could do.
And why? Because one had not a broadcasting station about the size of a bar of soap that broadcasts on the Medium Wave.
This device can be plugged into a windy-player, a shiny-player, an ordinator or anything else that can play one's up-to-date music. And then it broadcasts all over the house. And one can tune in on any up-to-date wireless set in the house on the good old Medium Wave. A tiny Quirrie set in the kitchen, An Art-Neo cathedral-shaped thing in the bedroom, and perhaps even one in the drawing room that looks like a Queen Anne cabinet. In the schoolroom one can receive up-to-date educational programmes (if one can find any up-to-date educational programmes to broadcast. We are looking into it).
Those Elektra-wireless stations that Miss Eve and others have been mentioning can be received complete with real wirelessy squeaks and crackles in the comfort (and racinated aesthetics) of your own wireless.
So do I recommend the Gizmo to all? Yes - but only if there is a reasonably competent brunette in the house. This one took ages to set up, involved miles of aerial wire at the broadcasting end (well, a yard or two anyway) and at present needs a wire coathanger to be pushed into the aerial socket of our Kadorian Ecko radiogram in order to receive properly. We still need more aerial business to get it working completely satisfactorily. It all feels a bit Vintesse at the moment and it certainly makes one wonder why it is called Wireless - I've never seen so much wire.
But still, wireless it is, and those beautiful-but-once-useless Art-Neo masterpieces are pouring out Vera Lynne and Annette Hanshaw and real plays, just as they were built to do.
Racination takes to the air!
Thank you, Miss Joans, for your school report. It certainly sounds as though you and the other pettes learned plenty and had a great deal of fun.
Silver Vixen, the mail that gets sent to the Embassy sounds absolutely revolting. I hope that it is kept well out of the sight of the more delicate blondes there. It would surely upset them for days. (A paradox, for it is the bongos who like to be shocked, and we who actually feel it.)
People get some funny ideas about discipline. For example, just because certain Aristasian-related organisations produce literature connected to that subject we tend to get from time to time glossy literature from the most extraordinary places. One of them is a club that rejoices in the name of the Torture Garden. Without wishing to make a pun, it seems these people have the wrong end of the stick about Aristasian discipline.
The literature in question contained, among other things, a picture of human intestines (I suppose they were human - I didn't examine them too closely) encased in a pair of lacy translucent knickers.
What struck me about this was its extraordinary familiarity. Not long ago I was at the Barbican Arts Centre where a charming brunette had taken me to see a performance of Die Walk�re. The glossy brochures I rather ill-advisedly perused at the box-office contained various images of a very similar sort. But then so, I believe, does the Times Literary Supplement and just about every other organ of bongo bourgeois post-culture. So - usually in a slightly more muted way - do many advertising hoardings.
The formula is as simple as it could possibly be. One imagines a schoolmistress addressing a class of aspiring bonglings:
First take an image that conveys something disgusting.
Then take an image that conveys "sex".
Now think of a visual pun to combine the two.
And so they do. Over and over again. The same dreary exercise, week in, week out, in just about every piece of glossy bourgeois bin-fodder that has ever wasted a tree over the past thirty years.
And the truly remarkable thing is that they do it with such an air of newness and originality.
"You'll never guess what I've thought of this time" they seem to say: "I've taken an image that conveyed something disgusting. And as if that wasn't clever enough, I then took an image that conveys 'sex'. And then - but you'll hardly believe this bit - I found a visual pun to combine the two. No, get up off the floor - I really did."
What puzzles me is this: I can understand why children like to hear the same fairy-tale over and over again. I can see why some people enjoy series of stories that have essentially the same plot every time. I acknowledge and even approve the natural human desire for comfort and familiarity. But how can this lullabye-like repetition apply to things which rely for their whole effect on "shock" value and novelty?
Of course there are other ways of creating grotesque juxtapositions and disrupting the normal human sense of rightness and goodness - but they reduce to a handful of very simple formulae, and each of them was worked to death twenty years ago, yet still goes on being flogged into weary action week after tedious week by every Arts Council hack, bourgeois Sunday supplement and seller of ugly clothes in the Pit.
It is very odd. Surely even the most susceptible person is no longer shocked by these things. People may laugh at the same joke twice, but hardly a thousand times.
Or is it all a matter of comfort and familiarity? Is this phenomenon rather like some inverted Town Crier who passes under the window ringing a bell and shouting:
Twelve o'clock and all's ill
so that Johnny Bongo can turn over in his bed and sleep peacefully, knowing that nothing has changed in his distorted little world, and nothing ever will?
I think this is the truth. But there is also another aspect to the matter.
Tolstoi said that all happy families are the same but every unhappy family is unhappy in a different way. He was wrong. The truth lies in the opposite direction.
Evil - and let us not forget that the inversion of human norms and forms and harmony is an evil however dulled by familiarity and repetition it may become - evil is nothing in itself. It is merely the absence of good (privatio boni); just as cold - however biting and active it may seem - is nothing but the absence of warmth.
It is for this reason that good can express itself in a thousand different ways, while evil - however desperately it strains for constant originality - can do nothing but repeat itself.
The Silver Vixen
Printed in blue because it's true!
How lovely that school is starting - and how lucky all the pettes who can attend are! Will there be frequent messages about school activities to keep those of us who cannot attend informed?
Well, the girls are supposed to be writing their impressions of the first lesson, some of which may appear at Girls' Town. Watch this space! In the meantime, if you are living in London and would like to attend an Aristasian school as an Aristasian schoolgirl, drop us a line. The term is yet young!
The matter of stockings was occupying the learned cogitations of this august forum not so long ago, and various stocking matters have recently been occupying me too.
A number of pairs of up-to-date stockings have recently made there way into my life. Several as a Christmas present from a most gallant brunette and some that I found for myself in a charity shop.
These, I should explain were not mostly fully-fashioned stockings, but those later up-to-date stockings with a reinforced heel and toe and that wonderful crisp feel to the surface that you just don't get on stockings from the other side of the Iron Curtain - even the neo-fully-fashioned ones (which I must say I adore).
Now a thing that often troubles me about up-to-date stockings is that they do tend to be a bit on the short side and I have often wondered why, but recently I was looking at a calendar of delightful pin-ups by Gil Elvgren, owned by another brunette and noticed that in many of the pictures the girls' stockings are very short, showing a very long area of thigh. So many of the pictures are like this (though not all) that I begin to feel it must be a legitimate and quite common up-to-date style.
I have also been experimenting with some up-to-date girdles, and most of these tend to compel what (by my sometimes rather short-skirted standards) would seem an impossibly low stocking-line. Some of these girdles don't end until where I should want my stockings to reach and then drop a suspender a few inches below that.
Anyway, to cut a long stocking short, I have been experimenting with shorter stockings and longer skirts and finding the effect quite delightful. Brunettes seem to like it too. One of them told me that looking up to date is "all in the underwear".
Well I don't know, but it's a thought isn't it?
Anyway, I enclose a study of low Quirrie stockings, courtesy of a passing crane.
And Gil Elvgren, of course.
Hello from the Embassy. I live at the Aristasian Embassy in London and this is where the school is held. Actually the school is not much like an Embassy at all - it is a Quirrie school in Avendale, Quirinelle near to the Trentish border. We may be popping into Trent occasionally next year, I hear. However it is the Ambassadorial Function which allows us to step from Tellurian soil onto Aristasian soil, apparently (don't ask me - ask some one else if you must, but don't ask me).
Well, b. that as it m., here I am at the Embassy, which is a good deal better than living in school all day. But I do get wind of all the goings on that affect the school. Well quite a few of them, anyway.
The new term is starting next week, on the 8th, so if any of you are in London and thinking of applying to join the school, now would be a good time. You should write here.
It looks like being a very exciting new term as we have a new Headmistress and all sorts of new things are being planned. Everything is going to be organised differently, and even the classroom is going to have a brand new look. Lessons look like being more demanding >sigh< but all the courses are starting from the beginning so new girls shouldn't be out of their depth.
Well, no more than the rest of us anyway.
And of course we shall be having all the usual fun and games in the Common Room and some school outings as well as cinemas and things.
I shall be telling you more about the school as I know it. Inside information starts here.
Unless of course you will be joining us, in which case I look forward to seeing you.
Dear Miss Delphine and Miss Devina, I think short hair can look absolutely divine, but, as the management mentioned, one must have the right sort of cut. Vintesse cuts are very smart - I myself am out of touch with my province for wearing my hair long, but most pettes there wear theirs short and there is a whole range of styles. (Curly or waved bobs are best for blondes, I think.)
Other short styles that look smart are the Quirrie short ones. Most Quirrie clothes and styles are so feminine that the short cut just adds a touch of pertness and piquancy. Miss Audrey Hepburn is perhaps the finest example, but many Quirrie magazines feature blondes and brunettes with charming pin-curled and set short styles.
Follow these links for pictures of some delightfully short-haired stars:
And of course, short hair can mean so many different things when used with style. For Miss Hepburn it is terribly chic and sophisticated whereas with Miss Caron it is just the reverse - gamin and ever-so-slightly, but quite charmingly, gauche.
In the picture here - from the film Lily, which introduced the song Hi Lily, Hi Lily, Hi Lo - she plays a runaway girl who joins a travelling puppeteer. All the puppets are real people to her and she learns to know and love each one. It is a truly charming film in which Miss Caron's huge eyes and short hair are by no means the least part of the overall magic.
And, of course, it gives us a most piquant example of one of the blondest-ever uses of short hair!
Hello pettes, one and all.
Forgive my unannounced intrusion in to your Elektraspatial exchanges but I am just the sort of brunette who is unable to keep silence for too long. But I ought to introduce myself. Miss Devina Crisp, at your service. (Most especially at that of the Major.)
Miss Delphine asks about her hair and I should like to echo her note of concern. I heartily endorse her feeling that the question ought to be asked. A lady's hair is, after all, her crowning glory and doubts over its suitability simply must be addressed. I confess to being somewhat inexperienced in the field myself although I know many blondes are able to opine on the subject interminably.
I love the very Vintesse Shingle cut myself and envy any pette whose hair is straight enough to allow her to sport it. It speaks to me of the dapper, but ever so slightly jinky, young office girl who has turned into a pseudo-sophisticate, girl about town. I am sure there is nothing at all 'pseudo' about Miss Delphine and I have no intention of implying that there is. The point is, that a hair style seems to say an awful lot about a girl and so ought to be thought quite an important aspect of her presentation.
If there are any experts on such things out there, may I ask what they might suggest for a brunette with wild, flyaway, 'refuses-to-be-straightened' hair? I ought also to say that my hair does not reflect my personality an
d I have been straitened regularly!
Does all this talk of hair indicate a movement away from the cocktail bar towards a salon? The pun is too awful so I shall depart before I make things any more cringeworthy.
Miss Devina Crisp
Hello pettes! It's a delight to see you all again. I'm afraid I've been absent for a rather long time here from the Town, trying to throw things together for the coming road trip. Yes, that's right, I'm moving very shortly, and let me tell you, it's been quite the pain. It certainly doesn't help that I am a rather disorganized brunette. Perhaps I find myself a bit wary to say that in the presence of a distinguished military officer, who I am quite sure is the very epitome of organization. Ahh, yes, now where was I. I rambled off on a tangent...
I remember now... I came to ask a question... Oh, it's rather embarrassing actually. Well, not embarrassing in content, but more for the simple fact that I have to ask it. I know that Aristasia is a break from all the rather horrid Post-Eclipse values, a place where they never happened, and a place where the divinity of feminine is honored as it should be, but my question, pettes, is what is your view on hair? I feel very silly for asking this, but it is something that has been bothering me as of late. You see, I myself have sported a rather.... severe cut, so it might be said. A Shingle cut, they call it, unless I am mistaken. It's rather short, a few inches long at the longest points. I was wondering, however, on whether my hair would be considered inappropriate.
I would certainly hate to break any rules, as I do not like to be a troublemaker... for the most part. I have tried to grow my hair out before, yes, as I did have long hair for many years, but I find that short hair is very easy to take care of, which is a definite plus to disorganized brunettes such as myself. Well... dears... I think I've prattled on about this long enough, and I do hope that my question isn't considered extremely foolish... Your views, as quite distinguished pettes in my eyes, would be much appreciated in this matter, which somehow I found both grave and silly at the same time.
Thank you ever so much for listening to me,
It is sometimes said that one can get away with anything in Aristasia (dress-wise) so long as one can carry it off with style. Of course within reason. No one can get away with track-suits or dungarees because no one can carry them off with style - unless she is carrying them off to the dump.
Short hair is a tricky issue partly because it is so associated with the masculinism of the Pit. If one wears it one needs to carry it off with a very great deal of style, which means that it is not an "easy option" at all. It needs to be very sharp and very Vintesse or Infra. One needs to dress and make up very carefully to convey the statement that this is not bongo short hair but something quite different and pretty much opposite therefrom.
Naturally short hair is much more acceptable for a brunette than for a blonde. Short hair on a blonde is a very bold move indeed and only the cleverest of stylists should attempt that.
As to rules, there are no Empire-wide ones on this subject, though each District will have its own regulations and particular institutions, such as schools and military establishments will usually have stricter ones.
How do you do, Fraulein Loveton. It is an honour to meet you.
Your impromptu promotion of me is very kind, but in fact I am still a Major. And have been for several years. It has really been far too long since my last promotion, when you consider my sterling service record, but then my superior has an unfounded dislike for me - ahem. What I meant to say is, I am still a Major. The way matters stand, it appears I shall remain one for some time.
I should certainly hope that you learned about the Great Traditions at school. That is after all the purpose of education, to learn to keep and honour traditions. As for the significance of the uniform of Her Majesty's Royal Army, I am quite pleased that you are able to appreciate it. It has a fine and honorable history, and every detail signifies some aspect of the Golden Order, but most blondes seem unable to understand that, like that - Lady Dorian, for instance. If you would like to hear about the uniform in more detail, I shall be delighted to oblige you at another time. I am capable of expounding on the subject for hours, but I am advised that most blondes find the subject tedious. Humph. Well, one can hardly expect most blondes to be serious. But at this moment, there are other matters I must speak of, more urgent ones.
But Fraulein, if you are so warm, perhaps you should step outside to get some cool air. No? If you say so. Do you have something in your eye? Your lashes keep fluttering. Really, Fraulein, you do not seem comfortable here at all.
Well, if you prefer to remain, I must take the liberty of enlightening you about Lady Dorian, for your own sake. Because you must know that she is far from harmless. I have just learned that she is in fact one of Kadoria's most notorious criminals!
I must say, Fraulein Loveton, that you appear rather young to have been to school with her. But of course a blonde as innocent as yourself could not be fibbing, so you must be older than you look.
But being as innocent as you obviously are, you might not be aware of the heinous practice of theft and Anonymous Return. I shall explain it to you. The unfortunate fact is that some maidens simply cannot resist taking things which are not theirs. Just last week a young blonde in my district received six strokes for sneaking a mink coat out of a department store and wearing it to the best places for an entire weekend before returning it to the store with a shamefaced apology.
I do not pretend to be above temptation myself. I believe that I can call myself a gentlebrunette now, but in my own youth, I bordered on being a Rough Brunette - as much as a daughter of my brunette mother could dare to be, because she was, thankfully, very strict and kept me on the straight and narrow. If not for her firm hand, I would likely have ended as no better than Lady Dorian herself. When I was sixteen, I and two brunette classmates of mine, both bona fide Rough Brunettes who ended up in Punitive Service, simply could not resist the allure of a gleaming black Mercury we saw outside a shop one day. The keys were, naturally, in the ignition, that being the surest way to ensure that they are not misplaced, so we all hopped in and had a glorious (but of course thoroughly reprehensible) evening driving it around. I drove for most of the evening, having a much keener appreciation of machinery than either of my companions, leaving them both free to bask in the awed stares of the blondes we passed; both were far more interested in the fair sex than I. Most blondes have always seemed rather silly to me, though of course I can see that you are a more serious sort, Fraulein Loveton, what with your appreciation of uniforms and Great Traditions and so forth.
But to cut a long story short so that I may move on to the matter at hand, when our evening of high spirits was over, my friends were for simply driving the car back to the shop or to the owner's home and leaving it and sneaking away. Anonymous Return is, sadly, a widespread and shameful practice even here in Aristasia. I am sure that none of you ladies here would ever do such a thing, of course. Nor would I, even in my errant youth. I returned the car to its owner with a complete confession, and I assure you that I bore the full penalty for my actions. And took it like a brunette, too. My companions considered it "swindleacious" and insisted that my brunette mother, being of high rank, could have intervened to lighten my sentence, which only demonstrates how little they knew her. Had she intervened, it would not have been to lighten my sentence.
But I digress. A few days ago, I returned home to be greeted by my distressed chatelaine with the news that "The Brunette in Purple" had been stolen! It was of course not difficult to guess who the culprit was. Being an officer of Her Majesty's Army, I could not simply deal with the matter myself without consulting the proper authorities first, so I notified the District Governess. I received the outrageous news that Lady Dorian's activities are well known throughout the Empire. She is perhaps Kadoria's most notorious practitioner of Anonymous Return. As you noted, Fraulein Loveton, the Countess is indeed an "art loony"; she regularly steals paintings, statues and jewelry so that she may bask in their beauty until she is ready to Anonymously Return them. And she is not prompt about the return, either. I demanded to know why the vixen is not in Punitive Service and received an evasive reply. I was of course not fooled. Far be it from me to disrespect those in authority, but clearly the District Governess's head has been turned by the brazen Countess's undeniable beauty. Either that or else it was inappropriate respect for the Countess's rank. At times like this I understand why those half-mad Culverians dispensed with titled aristocracy. Not that I approve of Culverians, but just the same.
But I assure you, Fraulein Loveton, I shall recover my property very soon -- I certainly shan't wait for that blonde to deign to Anonymously Return it!
Well, indeed, if you are so interested, I will certainly return to tell you about it when I have relieved your erstwhile classmate of my ancestral portrait. Till then, good day, young lady. And perhaps you had best see an ophthalmologist about whatever's making your lashes flutter like that.
Major Klara Hannah von dem Eberbach
Her Majesty's Royal Army
Germania, Altalia, Kadoria
Oh, colonel - colonel Eberbach, isn't it? I couldn't help overhearing of your rather unfortunate encounter with Lady Dorian. She is - well, a bit of an art-loony, if you don't mind my using the expression. She can't help it. She is quite harmless really. We went to school together.
But I did want to say how delighted I am to have such a distinguished military heroine in our midst. Not that I have any interest in Brunettes in Uniform myself - well, perhaps just the teensiest bit. I mean, it isn't the uniform itself, is it - it is the wonderful tradition that it stands for - don't you think?
We learn a lot about our Great Traditions at school - I mean we did, when I was younger. Of course I haven't been at school now for - oh for well, just ages.
No, of course I am not blushing. It is rather warm in here that is all. A lady of true sophistication very rarely blushes, I think.
The Hon Araminta Loveton
Thank Dea there's radio to keep a pette company on rainy evenings. Hm, let's see... Classic Jazz Corner. http://www.live365.com/stations/24152 Nothing like Millie Davis and Chette Baker to go with rain.
Or perhaps I'll tune in to Knotted Note Radio and hear a play. "Suspense", "X-Minus One", "Mercury Theater on the Air". Hmm, but that might be a little spooky for an evening spent alone, even for a brunette! Perhaps a comedy station that plays Jack Benny and the like might be more in order.
What's this? An Amazonian radio station? I know that radios don't work in Amazonia. The station must be located in the West, even though it does play Eastern music. How lovely of them, to bring us the fruits of other provinces.
But I can't sit here fiddling with this dial all evening. I'm going to settle for Absinthe Vintesse Radio. Ohhh, Miss Billie Holiday. Yes, I do believe my mind has been made up.
Well, they do say "absinthe makes the heart grow fonder", don't they? Or have I got it wrong again?Hold tight for some more Wireless News direct from the Aristasian Embassy in London very soon. It isn't quite what you may be expecting, but it is rather delightful just the same.
Happy Nativity to all pettes! I hope that you all have a splendid day.
The Blonde Management wishes a happy Nativity to all our dear friends.
As I remember it from my reading of magazines from the 40s and 50s tights have certainly been in common use for various purposes of theatre performance, film, variet�, ballet, show dance etc. where the action requires girls to expose the upper and delicate part of their legs, and where repeted flashes of stocking tops and thigh would eroticise the reaction of the audience to the point of forgetfulness of the action and distraction from the artistical focus.
As soon as a girl got off stage, left the realm of fiction and entered the real world, she would, however, always put on her girdle and stockings again.
In my opinion she should continue to do so, at least this is what I try to do. Of course there is the problem with very short skirts, a fascinating contribution to the expression of femininity of the 60s on the verge of the cultural abyss. For the decent and safe wearing of such skirts one should certainly be able find a pair of opera length stockings.
They say there's a little bit of blonde in every brunette (and a little bit of brunette in every blonde) and it seems my blonde bit is emerging today! I knew there were other things I had to say to you all, and I just clean forgot until I'd posted the Elektra-mail.
The first is, you pettes may have noticed that three volumes of the Aphrodite Cocktail Bar Archives are missing from Belladonna, numbers 20, 25, & 65. Now, it's entirely possible that these volumes don't exist. I understand the archivist was a blonde, so it would have been easy for a number to be missed or skipped. But if they do exist, would somepette be kind enough to send them to me so I can make them available to pettes everywhere?
And... you see the top picture on my "Lace" page? Of the blonde model? If anypette happens to know her phone number....
Hello, pettes, and thanks ever so for all the kind remarks about Belladonna!
I have decided it has been entirely too long since I added anything new to Belladonna, so, well, I added something new. Do you pettes remember the divine Garbo in the movie "Ninotchka"? When she left Paris and went back to Moscow, she brought a Real slip with her. It was fairly simple, but it was silk with lace edging. The neighbors were scandalized to see it on her clothesline, not because it was underwear, but because it was feminine and pretty. She took it inside, saying wryly, "I wouldn't want the Revolution to be compromised by my underwear."
Now there's a pette who understands the philosophical underpinnings of underclothes!
So, I've added a page about up-to-date lingerie. It includes a folder of images - some of you may remember an Elektra-site called "The Warner Page" a few years ago. It was a treasure trove of up-to-date lingerie ads. It was the most beautifully Aphroditist thing imaginable. Tragically, the site disappeared. But if you go to my "Lace" page, you can get the images from it! A few images from other sites may have slipped in, but most are from the Warner Page. It was an enormous site, and there are a lot of images in this folder!
I'm quite glad to hear that tights are proper in Aristasia. I had heard that they weren't, too, and I kept wondering: what about ballerinas?
With Miss Jones talking about tights not being allowed and certain jinky girls discussing whether superheroines wear them or not, I was wondering what the true situation on tights in Aristasia is. I had heard they were not permitted, as being akin to bifurcs (trousers and other bifurcated and essentially em-eh-ell-ee garments. Is this right or not?
There is (contrary to some people's belief) no Aristasian law against tights - unless it be a by-law in a particular District or institution, and any one who says that Infra girls do not wear tight with those really ultra-short skirts just isn't being realistic. Bare legs really are considered infra dig (rather than just Infra).
However, they are a bit of a "grey area" there are mistresses who disapprove of them, and they usually feel entirely free to treat them as an offence meriting extra punishment (I say "extra" because it is usually in punitive situations that they are discovered). There seems to be an area where ambiguities like this are accepted almost as a positive thing - perhaps having to do with the acceptance of a mistress's will. Another example is that in almost every Quirrie school I have attended - even where the rules were highly codified, regulation school knickers were not required, at least for older girls, plain white being an acceptable alternative. BUT it was necessary to know if a particular mistress held the personal view that they were required, because she would enforce it without warning.(Warning usually came through the grapevine and, in a few rather mean cases, deliberately not).
The present blonde writer wears tights on certain occasions such as: When there is a stocking-crisis and I have to wear anything I can find (I get a few pairs of tights in charity shops sometimes, along with stockings, for emergencies): I sometimes wear thick tights, black or coloured, ribbed or not, with school uniform or little-girly outfits (but not usually for actually attending school): I have some very nice patterned tights which I really like and wear sometimes - including some expensive ones from Austria, some from a sale in an expensive shop and some from charity shops. I also like infra-style patterned stockings, especially with jinky Infra, late-Quirrie and pseudo-Vintesse dresses.
Am I a terrible backslider?
My name is Sandra Jones. I would love to live in an all-female society where no men are permitted. I have never lived with men. My mother separated from my father when I was two years old. Until I was 18 I lived with my mother and three older sisters.
My upbringing was a very strict one. My mother applied strict rules for my sisters and I. Breaches of theses rules sometimes resulted in a caning from my mother. She was the headmistress of a private girls school which had pupils aged 10 to 16. My sisters and I attended this school. My mother frequently caned pupils for breaches of discipline. I look back with some nostalgia on my childhood at home and school.
I am often appalled when I see girls and young women today. They are very sloppily dressed. My mother applied a very strict dress code in our school. The school uniform consisted of a navy skirt, the hem of which could not be above the tops of the knees, a white blouse, a blue and white striped tie, a navy blazer and black shoes. There were even regulations regarding the underwear we wore. We had to wear a white slip and a white knickers. We had to wear black stockings (tights and socks were not permitted).
I am also appalled when I see the standards of behaviour among girls and young women today. I live near a girls secondary school and frequently see the low standards of discipline which apply today. I do not feel at home in today's world. I would love to experience again the type of upbringing I had. Is there a school in Aristasia which applies the dress code and standards of discipline that would have been applied in girls' schools prior to the 1950s or so. If so, I would love to enrol as a pupil there.
Your mother sounds very strict. I am not sure our school could be considered that strict, but we do certainly maintain standards. It is a very friendly school and we have lots of fun as well as working hard. If you live near London you might well consider attending school meetings.
Hello all! Gosh, isn't the bar busy all of a sudden? To all the lovely familiar faces, a succession of lovely new ones have been added.
Hello especially to Eve, for reading through the old Aphrodite archives at her Belladonna site was what prompted me to start coming here in the first place, so now I have a chance to say thank you!
Erm. Dearie me. I was so keen to say hello, and now it occurs to me that I have nothing more to say. I shall sit here with my Fountain of Youth and watch the fun unfurl! (And perhaps ponder the super-feminine delights of Mary Marvel and the Princess...)
Heavens, mind my blushes! All those kind words about my little corner of Aristasia! Well, in the Yuletide spirit, please allow me to draw everypette's attention to one gallery of the Llangollen Museum of Art, that devoted to artists' depictions of the Star Fairy.
Now, very soon I'm going to add a lot of links to Belladonna, places where Pit-maidens seeking to racinate themselves can find up-to-date clothing and so forth, but there is one thing I wanted to share with you pettes at once. Lately everyone's been talking about places to find up-to-date music, well, there's an Elektra-radio station devoted entirely to Kadorian Big Band music!Which is very much my sort of music.
I see the Major's been by. Golly, she just... she almost makes me forget that I'm a brunette! Oh, and Fay, I for one would be delighted to see more of those lovely racinating images!
Yes, I am annoyed. I just had to endure the most provoking encounter imaginable. And in my own castle seat, as well.
It began when I left Headquarters early today. No, I was not taking holiday! The fact is, I have a great deal of vacation time accumulated, and my superiors are eternally pestering me to use it. Today I left with one of my aides, Miss A---, because I had vital family business to attend. And there she was, bold as brass, right in front of the portrait of my ancestress Persimmon Tyrian. She had gotten past my chatelaine by displaying impressive credentials as an art expert, but even if she had twenty doctorates, that would not have excused her attire, especially not on a professional call. Her dress was blindingly bright red, flashy as a brunette cardinal, though she was no brunette. Her hair was the exact colour of the sun, long and curly beyond belief. She must waste hours at the salon every month to maintain those curls, not that a spinster blonde has anything better to do anyway.
But that flashy red dress - it was outrageously tight. Completely snug, showing off a set of curves that prove that Dea was in an unusually generous mood when She created this blonde. Wearing red on a professional call. And the skirt was -- well. Rather short. I suppose we should be grateful she refrained from wearing one of those scandalous InfraQuirrie "miniskirts".
When I entered the gallery, her back was to me as she studied the portrait "The Brunette in Purple". Though even from across the room, I could smell that rose-scented perfume. As I came near, intent on indicating to Miss A-- which works to prepare for shipment, the blonde turned around, revealing that Dea's generosity was apparently unstinting in this case. Her face was that of an angel, if angels wore shockingly tight red dresses with plunging necklines. Being a gentlebrunette, I kept my eyes on her face, when courtesy required that I look at her at all. Though really, I was attending other business and she had no appointment with me.
Just the same, she turned, tossing all that extravagant hair over her shoulders, and smiled at me. It was the kind of smile that expects any brunettes within its range to fall at its owner's feet. Humph.
"So, you've come home," she said. "I've been so engrossed in the paintings that I didn't hear you."
She extended her hand to be kissed. "I am Gloria Red, Countess of Dorian. How do you do?"
I ignored her hand, which was not strictly protocol, simply because she was too bold by half, and entirely too confident about her effect on brunettes. Do her good to learn that not all brunettes are reduced to gibbering idiots at a glimpse of big blue eyes and a sunny smile.
"Major Klara Hannah von dem Eberbach. I am the present head of the Eberbach family," I informed her. She continued to hold her hand out, apparently expecting me to give in. Humph. I can outwait anyone.
She said, a bit too sweetly, "It's nice meeting you, Klara Hannah-"
"Just call me Major," I corrected her. This rampant first-naming with my generation is really getting out of hand.
Speaking of hands, she grabbed mine. I noticed a spark of anger in her eyes as I attempted to move past her to attend to my task, and before I knew it, she was shaking my hand like a brunette. I must allow, she had quite a grip for a blonde. Which, of course, is inappropriate.
As if she had no idea that I was annoyed, she said cheerfully, "I'm not surprised this is considered one of the best collections in Germany. Your collection is wonderful."
"It is not I who collected it," I informed her.
"I like this painting especially," the Countess continued to prattle, indicating the one before which she stood. "It truly appeals to me. Very beautiful. 'The Brunette in Purple'. Persimmon Tyrian --is she your ancestress? Don't you think she looks like you?"
In fact, Lady Tyrian could almost be my twin. A fact which, given her notoriety during her lifetime, I do not like to be reminded of. I concentrated on the list of the paintings approved for loan to Llangollen, moving away from the Countess.
When I did not reply to her chatter, she ventured, "Major?"
"Be quiet." Honestly, some people cannot take a hint. "I'm busy." Her next words, however, were calculated to distract me.
"I would like to buy this painting," she said. Just like that. The most outrageous remark I have ever heard, and she just tossed it out like that. I could scarcely believe that I had heard her correctly. "What? You must be joking. The Eberbach collection is a cultural inheritance of the nation. One does not sell ancestral portraits."
She seemed unimpressed by this sensible remark. "But I am completely fascinated by this painting. It is wonderful."
"I know its value," I informed her impatiently.
This seemed to please the brazen Countess, which annoyed me. "So you understand it too?" she asked eagerly.
"Of course. I could buy a tank with it."
She looked completely horrified. For a long minute she simply stared at me before finding her voice. "A tank," she repeated in disbelief. She shook her head. "I'm amazed that you could convert this beautiful work of art into a mass of iron. I suppose you and I have completely different value systems."
"Of course!" By this time, there was no reason not to be blunt. "I'm not a dissipated aristocrat with too much time and money."
"You are a model officer, I'd say." She did not say it as if it were a compliment. "Complete with uniform in this heat and you're not even perspiring."
"I would never wear a sleeveless red dress," I remarked pointedly.
She raised her eyebrows delicately. "Are you saying that art should only be looked at in long sleeves?"
She was trying to tease me. It annoys me intensely when people joke about serious matters. She took a half step back and looked me up and down, almost the way a Rough Brunette ogles a blonde. It was completely mortifying.
"Nothing like a brunette in uniform," she said with a coy little smile.
"I don't care what kind of taste you might have," I informed her furiously, "but I dislike what I dislike!" She was not even slightly chastened by this. "And I like what I like, as well," she replied, with a challenging smile.
"And I always get what I like. And I like this painting!"
"Cut it out!" I ordered. "Everything here is mine, and I will never give anything to a hussy like you, even for a thousand million marks! NEVER!"
She lifted her chin, her sky-colored eyes flashing. "My principle is to get what I like, no matter who the owner is. And to get it cheaply, as well. This painting is worthless to you. It's a pearl before swine!"
"Get out," I ordered from between clenched teeth.
She gave me a parody of a polite smile. "Do excuse me, Major," she said as she turned and left.
When I heard the doors close behind her, I ordered Miss A--, "Open all the windows! Air the place out!" And I left them open until every trace of that overpowering rose scent had dissipated.
MAJOR KLARA VON DEM EBERBACH
HER MAJESTY'S ROYAL ARMY
I arrived in Elektraspace by mere fluke, yet its seems as if every aspect of Aristasia is just made for me (I do hope you don't think me coquettish for saying so!). I didn't know that such a place existed until a mere 24 hours ago, and yet already it seems like home.
Since I was very young I have loved Quirrie style and as I have grown a little older I have grown to appreciate that particular Vintesse sophistication, yet I discovered this independent of Aristasia. Oh! Can you imagine the joy of discovering you are not alone!
(I apologise, I can be rather melodramatic on occasion.)
I do so want to be involved in Aristasia. I would love to meet you all in London one day, for I live just a train ride away. I am 18, would my youth cause any inconvenience? I suspect I am a Blonde, for even in the void I am referred to as "an honorary Blonde" despite my dark hair.
I have attached the cover page from an up-to-date Quirrie annual which I treasure, it's jolly good fun. Do you have enough graphics at Aristasia Friends? For I would be more than happy to share the darling illustrations. The picture-stories referred to are also quite wonderful, not too long, and many of them set in schools, ballet classes or even somewhere reminiscent of Arcadia. Perhaps other Aristasians would like to read them in Elektraspace...
I so look forward to becoming involved in Aristasia.
(such an honour to be named for Fay Wray, most gorgeous Trentish star!)
In Telluria it doesn't matter what the colour of your hair is. One is blonde or brunette by temperament. Your Blonde Editress could hardly be darker in hair-colour nor more of an utter blonde. A raven-blonde we call her.
We loved the picture, by the way. It reminds us of our real-life school at Avendale.
Of course your age won't be a problem. We shall love to meet you and of course we shall be writing privately to arrange our meeting.
Good evening, how do you do. Major Klara Hannah von dem Eberbach, at your service.
Yes, I am the one they call the "Iron Maiden". But I did not come here this evening to discuss my own reputation, but that of the archetypal super-brunette Wonder Woman. I have met the Princess in the course of my work and am qualified to speak about her.
You know that my province, Kadoria, is the province where the brunette lioness's share of the battle against the Pit is waged. Sometimes those who stray too close to the Void become trapped in it. My missions as an officer of Her Majesty's Royal Army consist chiefly of rescuing pettes who have been trapped in the Pit, bringing them safely through the Iron Curtain. And occasionally I must also rescue Real objects which have somehow fallen into the Pit.
Wonder Woman's proper title is Crown Princess Diana of Themyscira. No, she is not Culverian, though many uninformed pettes believe so. She is an Amazonian nation's ambassadress to Kadorian Culveria. She wears armour adorned with Culverian symbols to honour the nation she is treating with. Such is the tradition of her people. She was sent to use the special powers granted her by Aphrodite and Athena to aid Kadorians in the battle against the Pit. The papers like to declare that she is "Stronger than Hypolita, wiser than Athena, fleeter than Zephyr and more beautiful than Aphrodite". All that is hyperbole, of course, but it is true that she excels in every one of those areas beyond the powers of any normal pette.
I believe that she was at one time ambassadress to Novaria. That is where she acquired her invisible airplane. But her famous magic lasso and bulletproof bracelets are of Amazonian origin. It seems that among the gifts the Goddesses endowed her with is some sort of dispensation that allows her to use her instruments outside their provinces. You all know that Novarian technology and Amazonian magic do not always work in Kadoria or Quirinelle.
No, I have no idea whether it is true that there is something between the Princess and a blonde Culverian pilot. It is true that she has been seen in the company of a pilot from the BAACs, or Blonde's Auxiliary Air Corps, named Stephanie Trevor. But a gentlebrunette does not pry into the personal affairs of others.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend. Family business, not Army business. I am the head of the family, you know.
No, my brunette mother is still alive, but she has retired to Switzerland, and the family affairs are now my responsibility. This includes overseeing the loan of certain of the Eberbach art treasures to the Llangollen Museum of Art, an illustrious and respected institution.
The fact is, paintings have always seemed like a waste of time to me. What use are they? But they are part of the inheritance I will be expected to pass on to my own daughters, and a sacred trust. Which I must attend at this moment. Good day to you all.
MAJOR KLARA VON DEM EBERBACH
HER MAJESTY'S ROYAL ARMY
We are honoured to hear from you, Major. And how curious that we should receive two communications about maidens with magical tiaras on the same day. Both Wonder Woman's and Sailor Moon's tiaras are far more than fashion accessories!
I'm new to Aristasia, but absolutely BESOTTED by this place... I don't know what the "rules" are but I have a few ideas, which I am sure would go down fabulously, but I'm a little shy to be posting on girls' town just yet. These are a few Novarian things which I haven't heard any mention of in Elektraspace, but they are all so gorgeous...
Here you can adopt some absolutely darling little pets for your space in elektraspace. Like gamebaby characters, they are so cute and most have no real pit-references. Also you could have a look at this one but there are so very many cute adoption sites, that I cannot list them all.
You say that you couldn't watch Pokemon movies, but have you ever seen "Sailor Moon"? I have heard it described as "girl magic", and although sometimes it may be a bit bongo, I can't help but think that the philosophies are very nearly Aristasian. Michiru and Haruka are the perfect Blonde-Brunette couple. Sailor moon takes places in a very feminine world, and the main characters are schoolgirls. Maybe you will think it sound...
I hope these aren't too bongo for you all.
Welcome, Fay. Sailor Moon. Umm. Well. How could we resist. Some things are just too tempting, aren't they? Yes, I have to confess that here in Avendale District, Quirinelle (which you can visit if you live near to London) some of the pettes from Avenbridge School have foregathered on more than one occasion to watch kinnie-windies of Sailor Moon. Also Card Captor Sakura. The American translations are a bit iffy and we do wish we were clever enough to watch it in Japanese; but "girl magic" really does describe it.
As the webmistress of Belladonna, I wanted to tell you that I have finally repaired the Aphrodite archives so that the pictures are visible again. After Belladonna's brief hiatus, I put everything back in Elektraspace and didn't realize that the pictures weren't showing, due to a quirk of the new Elektra-service I was using. I only recently discovered that there was a problem, and it wasn't until last week that I had time to repair it. But I did, and now the pictures are visible again. Thanks ever so for linking to my page!
And... if you happen to see the pette in charge of Girls' Town, perhaps you might mention that soon a friend of mine will be dropping by the new Aphrodite Lounge to share her adventures. She'll be writing from my Elektra-box, of course, and if there are many blondes attending regularly these days, you'd best stock up on the smelling salts, for she's an utterly swoonworthy brunette-in-uniform!
This is excellent news and we suggest that you pop over immediately to see the:
Or, since Nativity is coming, why not start at this
and browse forwards and backwards from there. We guarantee you will be delighted to see the pictures - especially if you are seeing them for the first time. Well, if the sample image on the right doesn't convince you, nothing will!
May I take the liberty of proposing a toast to Miss Taganov for her fine work in making these Archives available to us all. They are a huge treasury of Aristasian chatter, wisdom, information and fun - and now images too!
To Miss Taganov!
And um - when did you say this brunette would be coming?
When Mary Bromfield says the magic word Shazam! she is transformed into Mary Marvel, who takes her powers from five "goddesses" whose initials make up the word.
As you see, her skirt is not always as long as in our earlier picture! "Fleetness" would seem to include the power of flying. And when one says "strength", it of course invites the further question "how much strength". Well, Supergirl is one of the strongest beings on earth and the following picture shows that Mary marvel is strong enough to give Supergirl a run for her money.
So that is what mary Marvel can do!
Dear Miss Annya - so what can Mary Marvel do? Your super-brunette friend asked, but though you said lots of other interesting things, you never actually told her.
Darlings - I thought you might be interested to see some extracts from a correspondence with a super-brunette.
A super-brunette, for those who do not know is a brunette who is - well, very brunette. The sort who drives cars and flies aeroplanes and pops off to the moon in a spaceship when she has a day or two to spare and can open wine bottles even when the cork is really stiff, and get spiders out of the bath without squealing and all in high heels too. But not necessarily backwards.
Well, you get the idea. Anyway, I told this super-brunette that she was a super brunette, because super-brunettes do not always know. And she said:
I? A super-brunette? Wow! Does that mean I ought to start wearing red tights outside my other clothes and get a red cape and things?
And I said:
Actually it is blue tights with red knickers. Red tights would be Captain Marvel. However superheroines wear skirts, which is rather more decent, even if they may sometimes be a shade short for your liking!
I am afraid among my other vices was once a rather excessive interest in up-to-date comics. I knew some one with a huge collection and read them all. The girl on our right is Mary Marvel, by the way. I think you may approve of her skirt.
And she said:
I approve of all of her! How marvellous Mary Marvel is! What can she do?
I thank you for informing my ignorance about the correct garb of a super-brunette but I hope you don't expect me to wear any colour of tights under my knickers!
And I said:
Up-to-date comics are very proper, so I do not think I have ever seen a superheroine's knickers. Many of them wear boots, and if they are wearing tights, they are flesh-coloured - and, I suspect, worn in the conventional manner.
This is Supergirl, perhaps the archetypal superheroine (though some would argue for Wonder Woman - for me it is Supergirl). As you see, she is very Infra, but her skirt was just as short - if not shorter - in Mainland Quirinelle.
It is interesting that the mini-skirt must have been seen in Quirinelle-in Telluria as a "next step", because a lot of science-fiction depictions of the future show extremely short skirts, and it is indeed on these that Supergirl's costume is based - on Krypton, her home planet, all women wear short dresses like this. Krypton is essentially a more "advanced" earth - that is earth projected into the sort of future that the 1950s foresaw. Of course they did not foresee the collapse of morality and culture, and - in stark contrast to the Pit - were generally optimistic in their projections. But then, of course, the Eclipse had not happened.
Here is Supergirl in High Quirinelle.
Well, that is all I said, but I thought I should say it to you pettes as well, because it is dreadfully important to know about super-brunettes and supergirls in general.
Well that, at any rate, is the confirmed opinion of your,
A brief page introducing Aristasian spirituality has been added to the site, including links to relevant discussions in the archives. Those interested should go here.
The Blonde Management
Here in the District of Avendale, in Quirinelle, on the Trentish border we are playing Animal Crossing.
Avendale is the real-life District situated geographically in London (you can visit us if you like).
Animal Crossing is simply the most delightful game imaginable. One doesn't fight or race or win or lose. One simply lives in one's house, does things to help other animals, decorates one's house with delightful furniture, finds pretty clothes to wear, digs up fossils, catches rare insects and - well, just about anything one wants to do. Several of us live in the village, each with our own house.
A curious game no doubt, but charming and delightfully appropriate, for the game is all about creating a community, which, of course, is just what we are doing in real life. Rather than competitiveness it encourages public-spiritedness. We donate fossils to the Museum just because we want our local museum to be splendid. We could sell them if we wanted to and make money to improve our houses. We can send letters and presents to our friends. Recently Lily had an Exquisite Wall in her house which I just adored and rather envied - and the other day I received a charming letter from her in which she made me a present of the wall (it comes in a roll like wallpaper, but transforms the entire wall with decorated panels).
The game uses the Game Cube's clock to play in actual time. At present it is late autumn. When it is evening in Avendale, it is evening in the game. When it is New Year's Eve here it will be New Year's Eve there. If you want new music for your gramophone in your house, you must be present on a Saturday evening when Totokeke comes bringing music. No other time will do.
We have been talking in past archives about the time when games and Aristasian life will begin to interrelate with each other. That time has now arrived!
Thank you very much for your help with my query about the acceptability of styles as opposed to dates. It has given me a great deal to think about.
In some way, it makes choosing clothes trickier - for it requires a sure sense of style and Femininity. On the other hand, it means that acceptable clothing could, in theory be purchased anywhere.
I shall still bear the provinces in mind when I am shopping as a way of avoiding too many embarrassing mistakes.
Oh yes - we always bear the provinces very much in mind - "Don't you think that is rather Kadorian?" and so forth. But it certainly does make life rather an adventure, never knowing where one may find something delightful.
Reading Miss Lindie's essay on Vienna, I notice that she says:
And certainly Vienna solves one long-standing conundrum. We have often noticed that in England there are many shops selling elegant and beautiful clothes. Yet one almost never sees any one actually wearing them. Where do they go? One has sometimes hypothesised that bongo women must buy them and keep them in locked trunks under the bed and - when no one is in the house - lock all the doors, draw all the curtains and dress up for a few guilty minutes as human beings. Now I see that this is not the case. It is clear that these shops supply Viennese women who visit our country in order to buy elegant clothes at our much lower prices and then take them back home to a place where they will be appreciated.
This part of Lindie's essay intrigued me. Is it acceptable for Aristasians-in-Telluria to wear clothes manufactured during the Decades of Darkness? I have a very nice black wool crepe skirt from France, and it is fully lined, knee-length and A-line, so looks very smart and respectable. Would I be castigated for wearing the skirt?
Not at all. This raises an interesting point about provinces and their styles. Of course we say loosely that Kadoria corresponds to the Tellurian 1940s, Quirinelle to the 1950s and so on, but really the important thing is style, not date.
There are talking films, for example, made in the early 1930s, which are definitely Vintesse talkies. There is Kadorian music made in the late 1940s. Not everything that happens to be made in the Real World in point of date is acceptable. Many examples may be found in the products of the degenerate "Style International".
To take a specific example, we might look at the Royal Festival Hall (if we really had to). That was built in the 1950s but is not only ghastly but certainly not Quirinelle.
As for clothes, there are lots of charming ones that were not actually made in the real world. I have a beautiful black Quirrie cocktail dress, and I blush to mention how much of my wardrobe comes from charity shops, from plain-ish blouses and skirts to such things as a lovely Vintesse cocktail dress not made anywhere near the 1920s.
After all, we are not collectors or antiquarians - we are stylists.
Girls new to Aristasia sometimes seem to find difficulty in being sure whether they are blonde or brunette. The old question "do you see yourself as kissing or being kissed" is rather a good one, but I think we may have found one even more effective. It certainly seems to work with the girls in our District - that is, the ones who come to Aristasian activities in London.
You may be aware that it is our custom (at least when we remember) for blondes to wear pink ribbons on their wrists to distinguish them from brunettes, since in Telluria hair colour is not a secondary sexual characteristic.
Our newest brunette at school Margueritte said feelingly that she was very glad she didn't have to wear a pink ribbon. Rebecca has said something similar, and as for Diana, I imagine a pink ribbon would be one of the most effective punishments she could receive (though it might be considered cruel and unusual)! On the other hand most blondes rather like it and most brunettes seem to like it on blondes.
SO - when a new girl is uncertain of her sex. Perhaps one should ask her how she feels about wearing a pink ribbon. If she turns a peculiar shade and says, "Do I really have to?", she is a brunette. If she says "Oh that sounds rather nice," she is a blonde.
It is really as simple as that.
Hello Pettes, No more tantalising news on the Gamebaby front, although I've been hearing all about Animal Crossing from Miss Annya, and it sounds thrilling. Perhaps I should save my pennies for a Gamecube so I can enjoy the fun too.
I was very happy to hear that it is acceptable to mix devices from different provinces in one's house. My sweetie gave me a beautiful Quirrie refrigerator! It has a cream door and body, and the interior is duck egg blue. All the glass boxes and wire trays are still inside, too. It's my first Real electrical household device, and I'm thrilled with it. I think I shall look for a telephone next.
Miss Nancy speaks of the "two Helens" - Miss Kane and Miss Morgan. Well if we are talking exclusively about Vintesse and east Trent, I suppose she is right, but if we are talking about singing Helens of the world, then we absolutely must add a third.
Whom do I mean? Why the glorious Kadorienne, Helen Forrest, of course (note the two 'r's if you go searching for her on KaZaa - though you could try with one as well to catch the people who've spelt it wrongly).
Miss Forrest has a voice that I can only describe by borrowing a term from Miss Trent - "sugar-and-creamy" (what a philosopher Miss Trent is!). And if you don't know what that means, you'll just have to listen to her, which won't be a penance I can assure you.
She sings a lot with Miss Harriet Janes's Orchestra, and her golden voice perfectly complements the legendary golden trumpet.
Love to all,
It's marvellous to see the cocktail bar so busy again. I've been popping my head around the door, but it seemed so quiet I haven't been inside much myself lately.
Miss Nancy, isn't Helen Kane simply marvellous? Some of her songs are a little riskay (such as "Is There Anything Wrong In That?"), but that's part of Helen's charm. She is never a bad girl, just a slightly naughty one. If you are learning to love music from West Vintesse, Miss Karen, then you should definitely try listening to some Helen Kane.
And now here's something for fans of Novarian games: this winter, Japanese Gamebaby owners will be treated to a marvellous game called Sweet Cookie Pie. Up to four pettes can play, and it's a sort of board game where the aim is to collect the utensils and ingredients to make the pie. Sadly, there are no plans to translate it for non-Japanese pettes, but what a delightful idea! Perhaps some of you can speak or read a little Japanese and will be able to play it.
Miss Iris! You amaze us constantly! Where do you come by aqll this arcane knowledge that surprises even our resident Gamebaby experts? And - um - what are you playing au mome? Or are you just a friendly grown-up? Oh dear, I didn't mean "just" in a bad way. I mean some of my best friends are grown-ups. Really!
And "riskay" - some one has been reading the Original Cocktail Bar Archives, I perceive!
Gracious! I have been away for a long time haven't I?
I have now been happily connected to Kazaa and am trying to look for a rather good song by The Breakaways, an Infra group, although I can't remember the title of the song- so if anypette comes across a rather jinky song by them please tell me!
As to the value of Miss Hanshaw and Miss Etting well, I must say that I think they are both just splendid but Miss Hanshaw has something of an edge on Miss Etting. Her songs are delightfully cheeky and rather fresh and just makes me giggle like mad. And then the next song I hear will make me feel so sad, the way she sings "Body and Soul" is quite something! Some might say that I prefer her as she is a rather striking brunette, but honestly, I wouldn't let that cloud my judgement!
I did hear Miss Etting first and I do love the way she sings. If you have never heard her sing "Shine on Harvest Moon" or "Were your ears burning, darling" I think you simply must as they, along with "Crying for the Carolines" are my favourites of the moment. And of course Miss Etting had a rather tempestuous life, so much so that they made a film out of it staring the absolutely delightful Miss Doris Day. And if I start talking about Miss Day I'm afraid I certainly wouldn't stop!
But if any pette has never ever heard these Vintesse singers please try and find some leckords. And on the subject of Vintesse singers, please do look out for the two Helens, Helen Kane and Helen Morgan. Helen Kane was the original Boop-a-Doop girl, and was even the model for Betty Boop herself! She is most definitely a blonde, even though she tries hard to convince otherwise in "Dangerous Nan McGrew". Helen Morgan is the first torch singer, and she really does pull at the heart with her songs of woe and lost love- you have to be very cold to listen to her songs and not feel a teardrop in the eye!
Oh here I am, gone for ages and then prattling on and on! Goodness me!
Miss Karen speaks of Infra girly groups as "delicious blonde Infrettes". Well, some of them are, of course, but some of these groups are made up of the roughest of Rough Brunettes.
I hope this does not disappoint you pettes (and I certainly hope none of the blondes here has a penchant for Rough Brunettes).
In any case, to prove my point, here is a picture of the Shangri-Las.
Hardly "delicious blonde Infrettes", are they?
Certainly not the sort of people we should invite to this highly civilised and sophisticated Cocktail Bar - though I do remember an Espresso Bar called "High-School Hop" where there were some rather interesting brunettes round the juke-box. Not exactly rough, but...
Anyway, enough of that.
We were recently talking about girls' school stories, and I wonder if any of you have ever encountered a book called Patricia, Prefect by Ethel Talbot. I read it some time ago and have not been able to find a copy since, but as I recall, it is a rather extraordinary book.
Many of Miss Talbot's works are pot-boilers. Charming pot-boilers, but pot-boilers nonetheless. Patricia, Prefect is something quite different not only from the pot-boilers but from the ordinary run of schoolgirl books. It is a miniature tragedy founded, like Antony and Cleopatra, on the conflict between Love and Duty.
It concerns a most prefectly brunette prefect and the most delicate of young blondes who really should not be at school at all. She cannot fit into or remotely understand the school ethos. The book is charming, delicate and ultimately heart-rending.
At least that is how I remember it. If any of you pettes have read or can find a copy of Patricia, Prefect, I should be most interested to hear.
Thank you clever Annya for your help. Not only am I back in business collecting leckords, but I am listening to the Infra girly wireless stations, taking the names of the groups I like and searching for them on KaZaa. My leckord collection is growing at a rate that is almost alarming.
It is a funny name, but perhaps they mean kazoo. Bongos don't always know how to pronounce things, do they?
I am enjoying all the delicious blonde Infrettes - but why do they keep singing about bee-oh-whys? Come to that, what are bee-oh-whys?
You really don't want to know, believe us. As for your theory about KaZaa, it is ingenious but flawed. The bongo pronunciation of Kazoo is Kazee. The mystery remains unsolved.
This must have been turning into the Longest Volume Ever. Well, we have finally managed to send most of it into an Archive - Volume 12 for the scholarly among you. The current volume is always girlstown1. Don't ask why. You'll only get a silly blonde answer. Just follow the conversation backwards from the bottom of the page if you want to see it.
The Blonde Management
Dear Karen and all of you,
The music is not silenced. Kazaa is the name of the latest source I have found. Well, it's no sillier than any of the others. Go here and then click on Kazaa Lite. You will load down a programme that will allow you to search for and collect lots of up-to-date music. I have added a hundred leckords to my collection since finding it. Ruth Etting, The Andrews Sisters, Annette Hanshaw, Helen Forrest and lots more.
Are Miss Etting and Miss Hanshaw alike? Well, if you listen to them sing you will see that Miss Etting is definitely a blonde and Miss Hanshaw definitely a brunette. Both are fine performers, but in songs like My Sin and Forgetting You, Miss Hanshaw produces miniatgure dramatic performances that are just breathtaking and terribly moving. Miss Etting is not quite up to that level, even though she is superb.
Well, that is my opinion anyway. What do others think?
By the way, if you are looking for all-girl wireless broadcasting, my dear friend Nancy writes:
I am listening to some rather good wireless stations through Eleckraspace on Live 365. I am sending you the links. It's all Infra girls and is rather good- there are two of them- although there are sometimes some rather annoying adverts in between the songs, but at least they are in awful American and not awful English.
Darlings - I had just begun to get the gist of this leckord business when WinMX stopped working. How can one find up-to-date music in Elektraspace without it? Can one still find it in fact?
I was just learning of the delights of Miss Ruth Etting and Miss Annette Hanshaw and all the other beauties you pettes talk about.
Would you say Miss Etting and Miss Hanshaw are similar, by the way?
And don't forget to tell me if I can still get leckords, because I really really need to know.
Hello again ladies,
I've got a query about homes in Aristasia-in-Telluria. I realise that in Aristasia Pura it is possible to buy items in one's own province that function at least as well as the Tellurian equivalents. However, I know that a 1920s refrigerator would not work as well as one from Vintesse, nor even one from the 1950s. So, is it acceptable to furnish one's house with Real things not corresponding to one's own province? Do Aristasians-in-Telluria only keep things that match their provinces in their homes, or is a small mix acceptable. I would prefer my home to look like one from Vintesse, but there are a few areas on which I feel I should have to compromise.
A fascinating question that could be answered at great length, I am sure. One thing to bear in mind is that even in Aristasia Pura, most provinces are not hermetically sealed from each other, since they are only divided by land borders. There are certain problems about taking some things over borders and the Eastern Provinces are more sealed than the others, but cross-influences do occur.
As for we poor Aristasians-in Telluria, provintal purity is very difficult, and subject not only to problems but to terrible temptations (how could one resist that gorgeous Quirrie dress that fitted like the proverbial glove?). So most of us are to a greater or lesser degree eclectic. Or in the case of some Novarian items, eclectronic.
Oh so sorry! Something else I couldn't resist.
Miss Iris, Miss Delphine, and any other pette who finds the summer weather a little oppressive is welcome to come visit cool, foggy, Santa Francisca. I took my two brunette nieces on a ferry ride to Pelican Island last week and if you could have seen the way we were bundled up, hats, mittens, scarves, you wouldn't have believed it was summer! Of course, the two of them hardly felt the cold. They didn't sit still for long enough. But your correspondent spent the evening wrapped up from her toes to the top of her head, with just the tip of her icy nose on view.
Hello pettes! I'm afraid it's rather hot here in Decoborough too. While the clothing in Vintesse is not too bad in the heat, being quite loose, air conditioning is not as common as it is in the Western provinces and some afternoons the heat is quite oppressive.
My ordinator can't use WinMX, which is most annoying, but I think there are other programmes that will work on it, and then I'll be able to collect lots of lovely leckords - I should very much like some of the ones by Miss Dietrich that Miss Delphine mentioned. Wasn't she a splendid actress? (Miss Dietrich, I mean, not Miss Delphine.) Definitely one of the all-time great brunettes.
You know, I just went and downloaded WinMX a while back, and it really is very helpful. I really do wish it had more than just a few songs by certain singers, and sometimes it's rather frustrating considering some people won't allow you to download the song from them! Sometimes, they'll even disconnect in the middle of the download! How rude of them...
Since we're on the subject of music (well, before the subject of school, which I'm afraid I cannot participate in, due to Tellurian distances), I've found two new favorites. Ruth Etting and Marlene Dietrich. I was just wondering if anyone else had heard Miss Dietrich's song, "I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face." It's postively marvelous! Gives real meaning to absolutey made for adoration. Now...for another abrupt subject change, I apologize, how is everyone's summer going? It's just sweltering here... We had a very large thunderstorm the other day, but it didn't even cool off then! It was just very hot and wet, which was a horrible change from simply hot and humid. It made it even more oppressive. And we haven't even gotten to August yet! I imagine things can only get worse from here... Though I really do hope against the odds that it's going to get cooler soon.
I do hope everyone out there is staying sufficiently cool. I think our air conditioner is thinking about breaking, and I certainly hope it doesn't hear this. Wouldn't want to give it any extra ideas about such things...
And, on that humorous note (humidous as well, it's still so HOT), I bid you ladies goodbye.
It's pretty hot round these parts as well! How are others finding this leckord-collecting bizzums?
Thank you for your kind suggestion that I come along to your school. I should only be able to attend it if it is in Elektraspace, because in Telluria I live in the countryside, but perhaps one day it would be possible to visit. It has been a couple of years since I ventured into Pit-London. I'm thrilled that you should suggest I visit your school - I'm sure it is a very fine one, and it is a privilege to be asked.
Leckords sound like fun. I'm lucky enough to live near a Real music shop (it's been open since before the Eclipse, so it's Real inside), and really do enjoy going into the shop and browsing, but it's sometimes frustrating when I've heard of a singer or song and then can't find what I'm looking for! With leckords, perhaps it is much easier to find the right tune.
And thank you also for the bubbles. They're very pretty!
We did once have an Elektra-school. In fact there were two Aristasian schools in Elektraspace at different times. Girls did real work and developed a schoolgirl narrative. In one of the schools there were over 500 postings in one month. So it was really very active. However I am afraid no one has the time to undertake such a big Elektraspatial venture just now. Those who are in or near London and would like to attend our real-life school, should drop us a line.
Yes, you are right Miss Iris - Rebecca goes to the same school as Nancy and Beth and I - and sometimes my sister Lindie. However Rebecca is brunette and 17 and a monitor, and so really quite an awe-inspiring person. You should come along some time, Miss Iris
Talking of music - collecting Elektra-records (or leckords as some of us call them) is quite the thing these days. You can get just tons of up-to-date music from Elektraspace and have collections of hundreds of songs just sitting on your ordinator. The services that provide them keep being kerpopped by American copyright goings-on, but they are just like mushrooms (cue loud cheer from Nintendo fans) and as soon as one dies another sprouts up.
There was the notorious Napster, then Morpheus, then Audiogalaxy which was really the best. Recently Audiogalaxy bit the dust (which is really horrid as you will know if you have ever bitten any dust - and I don't recommend you try it at home, but if you do, have a large glass of water handy). The latest one to try is called WinMX - it is not as efficient as Audiogalaxy but it has one advantage however which is that you can play leckords while they are still incomplete and loading down.
So if you have a slow dial-up connexion, like most of us, you can listen to the music after you have loaded down say 10% and if it turns out to be some bongo rubbish or something you can delete it without going any further. This makes experimenting and finding new up-to-date delights much easier and more painless.
There is lots of up-to-date music available from Vintesse to Infra and different things are available at different times. I have found oodles of Annette Hanshaw, Ruth Etting, Teresa Brewer and discovered some new singers and girly groups.
It isn't just music either. You can get up-to-date spoken wireless programmes, though sadly I haven't found any Toytown yet.
Anyway, if you have unmetered access to Elektraspace you may want to start collecting a few leckords.
Oh, and here - for no reason at all except that I like them so much and to show you what pretty things one can find in Elektraspace - are some bubbles. I think they might hypnotise you if you watch them long enough!
Lots of love,
Hello again everyone,
Miss Brown, I hope that your poor foot is feeling a lot better now. It must be too boring being laid up and unable to go anywhere (and it sounds to this blonde as though you've read quite enough improving literature!)
Ah, after all that talk of school literature, it turns out that you go to a Real school. Is it the same school that Miss Lindie, Nancy and Annya attend? It must be so lovely! Not every little pette in Vintesse goes to school, you see, and I had all my lessons at home. (I was supposed to go to be 'finished', but brunette mummy said I was so unladylike, I should probably finish the school, so I never went.) I hope that you are a very good pupil and pay attention to what your teachers tell you.
I myself have nothing new to bring to the Cocktail Bar, except that all the discussion of the song "Scatterbrain" persuaded me to buy a shiny with it and other Trentish songs on. I think music from my own province is still my favourite, but some Trentish songs are terribly moving, and "Scatterbrain" is charming. Thank you, Miss Lindie, for bringing it to my attention!