Gilded Magpie, esq., Habitual Scholar

Maedhros! Ordered by Molly ❤️ 

like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth

thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in

it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with

men, obviously, loathed the whole affair

(1864)

(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)

(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)

(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)

it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there

and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too

(1880s)

(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)

(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)

The reason you suck at doing things in a hoop skirt is because you’re not used to doing things in a hoop skirt.

The first time I got in a Colonial-aristocracy dress I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The construction didn’t actually allow me to raise my arms all the way over my head (yes, that’s period-accurate). We had one dresser to every two women, because the only things we could put on ourselves were our tights, shifts, and first crinoline. Someone else had to lace our corsets, slip on our extra crinolines, hold our arms to balance us while a second person actually put the dresses on us like we were dolls, and do up our shoes–which we could not put on ourselves because we needed to be able to balance when the dress went on. My entire costume was almost 40 pounds (I should mention here that many of the dresses were made entirely of upholstery fabric), and I actually did not have the biggest dress in the show.

We wore our costumes for two weeks of rehearsal, which is quite a lot in university theatre. The first night we were all in dress, most of the ladies went propless because we were holding up our skirts to try and get a feel for both balance and where our feet were in comparison to where it looked like they should be. I actually fell off the stage.

By opening night? We were square-dancing in the damn things. We had one scene where our leading man needed to whistle, but he didn’t know how and I was the only one in the cast loud enough to be heard whistling from under the stage, so I was also commando-crawling underneath him at full speed trying to match his stage position–while still in the dress. And petticoats. And corset. Someone took my shoes off for that scene so I could use my toes to propel myself and I laid on a sheet so I wouldn’t get the dress dirty, but that was it–I was going full Solid Snake in a space about 18″ high, wearing a dress that covered me from collarbones to floor and weighed as much as a five-year-old child. And it worked beautifully.

I can ride public transportation while wearing them. I can take a taxi while wearing them. I can go on rides at Disneyland while wearing them. Because I’ve practiced wearing them and twisting the rigid-but-flexible skirt bones so I can sit on them and not buffet other people with my skirts. 

They’re also -- and I can’t emphasize enough how important this is -- really easy to pee in.  If you’re in split-crotch drawers (which, until at least the 1890s, you were), you can take an easy promenade a few feet away from the gents and then squat down and pee in pretty much total privacy.  It gives so much freedom in travel when it’s not a problem to pee most anywhere.

People also don’t realize that corsets themselves were a HUGE HUGE IMPROVEMENT over previous support-garment styles -- and if you have large breasts that don’t naturally float freely above your ribcage (which some people’s do! but it’s not that common), corsets are often an improvement over modern bras.

They hold up the breasts from underneath, taking the weight of them off your back.  Most historical corset styles don’t have shoulder straps, so you’re not bearing the weight of your breast there, either, and you can raise your arms as far as your dress’s shoulder line allows (which is the actually restrictive bit -- in my 1830s dress, literally all I can do is work in my lap, but in my 1890s dress I can paddle a kayak or draw a longbow with no trouble.  Both in a full corset).  They support your back and reduce the physical effort it takes to not slouch, helping avoid back pain.  They’re rigid enough that you don’t usually have to adjust your clothing to keep it where it belongs.  They’re flexible -- if you’re having a bloaty PMS day you just ... don’t lace it as tightly, and if your back muscles are sore you can lace it a little tighter.  And you can undo a cup (or, y’know, not have breast cups) to nurse a baby without losing any of the structural integrity of the garment.

I do educational/historical dressing and people are really insistent, like, “The corset was invented by a man, wasn’t it?”  “Actually, women were at the forefront of changing undergarment styles throughout the 19th century!” “But it’s true that it was invented by a man.”  

namely, Elwë Singollo, Monster Fucker

this guy comes upon a minor god in the woods, a god that we aren’t even told is in a recognizable human form, and his innate reaction is “I’d tap that”

then once the enchantment lifts (over them both, not just him) and his free will is back in action they immediately get to babymaking and kingdom building

not only that, it’s his descendants that are interested in interspecies romance

he’s the equivalent of a Tumblr blogger crushing on Venom, only he got his wish

you go, Elu

... I had a godawful couple of months of bad professional experience and my university leadership deciding that instead of supporting me when students were ableist and homophobic, they were going to reinforce the ableism and homophobia and make sure I lived in fear of professional consequences for my students’ ableism and homophobia!  And basically I was terrified and hurt and had my trust in people I respected broken, and I had days where I couldn’t break out of the suicidal thoughts, and I’d wake up in the morning struggling bleakly to defend myself against accusations and knowing that it didn’t matter, and ... yeah, it has been a bad time.

In addition to good support from the actually competent and trustworthy professional and academic mentors in my life, including my goddamn amazing wife ... this little comic and this method got me through it.

“Thank you, anxiety, for reminding me that teaching is so important to me.”  “Thank you, sense of helplessness, for reminding me that this matters a lot and the stakes are high.”   “Thank you, sense of betrayal, for helping me keep in mind that there are specific people who SHOULD be acting better, and those people CAN be held accountable.”  “Thank you, disappointment, for making sure I guard myself emotionally against those people and put my energy into contacts with more integrity.”  “Thank you, anger, for reminding me that I am not the problem here.”

This has gotten me to a place where I am able to do advocacy for myself and others around this issue, and facilitate networks of people making sure that the leadership is aware of critical oversight on the topic, and find the paths to support for myself and blaze those paths to support for others.

Yet the movie takes this deeply cultural object and either willingly or ignorantly makes it an object of womanhood or femininity. To the extent of my knowledge, this is mostly reflective of western social history. And draws from the coquettish ways Georgian? Ladies would use the fan to signal their romantic interest and all the history and influence around it. The equivalent object for the Chinese lady would in fact be the handkerchief, or a hairstick if you want something pointy.