The Glass Character

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Victorian corsets: my favourite fetish wear

The Muybridge post was just an excuse to introduce some of my favorite Victorian corset photos with their gorgeous gowns. These are wearable art, though they must have weighed 25 pounds and been a misery in hot weather. They dragged the floor, so mice could have run up inside them, and probably did. When you look at the way these women's bodies have been sculpted, you can imagine the price of it, the eternal confining prison carried around all day. Many women even wore their corsets at night to keep their waists from expanding. No one asked their husbands what they thought of this.

This woman in particular has incredible reduction, her full and very molded bosom tapering to an impossibly tiny waist. She has a child, so somehow-or-other her husband must have fought his way through all that armour.

The detail on this gown makes me swoon. And the train! I don't know how women carried it off, but they did. The hair alone must have weighed down the head considerably, and taken forever to pin up.

A nice bit of corset porn, with the extreme reduction clearly visible. With the widespread ignorance of sexual matters during the Victorian era, men must have thought women's bodies really looked like this. Or else they didn't look.

Miss Lettice Fairfax. I'm not sure who she was, or if she was really named for a leafy green vegetable. But I've got a million of these. Every once in a while I have to trot just a few of them out.

And OH how I love corset ads! I have a couple hundred of them squirreled away. They were one of my very first internet image collections. This one delights me because one woman is swooning over another woman's corset. It IS beautiful, isn't it? Torture? Probably.

And look at this! I've had this delightful Ball's Corsets ad (Revolution in Corsets) for over ten years, but it was a grainy little thing and impossible to see the detail. I found this much larger, clearer version just now. The victorious wearer of the Ball's corset has her foot on the puny excuses sold by the competition. Meantime, a herd of women, presumably stripped of said corsets, stampedes away from the sword-and-standard-bearing Corset Warrior Goddess. Her shield assures us our money will be returned if we aren't completely satisfied. This is a gorgeous piece of Victorian artwork. And is that a cross I see in the background? Never saw that before. A detail of the battlefield, I presume. And I can also make out on the banner, "with coiled wire spring elastic section." Ye gods.

And here are a couple of charming artist's renditions.

So, have I tried these things myself? Would you be shocked at the answer if I said yes? I've had - I think - a total of four of them. Two of the four ended up being unwearable due to extreme discomfort, and one was too big. Too big just doesn't work. I have one left, a black one, which is sort of nice, but the problem (!) is, I've lost 30 - 35 pounds in the past year and now it doesn't do a thing for me. These are, by the way, toy corsets bought on Amazon, not the real thing which are custom-made and can cost hundreds of dollars. For the most part, corsets are fetish wear and the wearers go to extremes and wear them all the time, even to sleep in, and "waist train" down to some ridiculous thing like 16".

And no, there are no pictures. Actually, there are, but I don't have access to them and wouldn't post them even if I did. Sorry.

AND A BLOGGER'S P. S.!

This is one I kept coming across, a painting whose provenance was unknown to me. Thanks to Tin Eye Reverse Image, I'm able to feed the program an image (ANY image!) and it will match it to the same image on other sites. The advantage is that it's usually possible to find a larger, clearer and generally superior version. As happened here with a painting that turned out to have an impossibly long file name: John-Singer-Sargent-Mrs.-George-Batten-Mabel-Veronica-Hatch.

Go figure it out! But here she is, and it's about the most orgasmic of all my Victorian collection. And because the original painting was long and narrow (enough that for years I thought it was a cropped-out detail of a much larger painting), I am able to post the image in its original size.

Monday, June 6, 2016

Cheetah: another animation experiment

This animation, NOT based on a Muybridge study, was only six frames and fairly easy to make, but not so fluid as I'd like. For one thing, there was no real baseline or "ground" for the cat to run on. I had to photoshop the six images on to six squares, and it was hard to orientate the cat so that its leaps looked natural. First they were too flat, and then it began to boink up and down like a bunny in these unnatural-looking hops. Obviously, six drawings of a cheetah won't represent the incredible motion of such a cat. But at least it didn't bop all over the map in sudden wild jerks, like the Muybridge studies, in which the camera suddenly moved or the subject appeared to jostle around in the frame. After all, the Muybridge images were just that: still pictures that were meant to represent motion frozen at various stages. It was a kind of elongated stop-motion cartoon, and never meant to be strung together in the diabolical way I'm doing! Muybridge, creepy old pervert that he was, very likely got it on with those tender young maidens he photographed. He had, after all, killed a man in a jealous rage and got away with it, convincing the judge he was insane and then coolly walking away.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Skipping woman

Ding!

DING!

HIT IT!

WHACK IT!

CLICK. . . THE. . . PINK. . . LINK!

That's it. Click on those big pink letters at the top! Because if you DO, you'll be able to hear something I can't describe to anybody. Something I've been trying to find out about since some time in the late 1950s. A . . . ding.

Yes, it's a ding.

That's all it is. But it's a ding I often heard. A ding that happened during those TV station breaks, those top-of-the-hour things between shows, except I don't know what network it was. I don't think it was connected to that weird CBS aperture/eye or the NBC chimes or any of that. ABC? Who knows. A local station, something in Detroit? WJBK, perhaps?

I don't know.

But this is the ding. I recognized it at once and was amazed, because it proved to me I WASN'T crazy after all, though people had been looking at me that way for decades whenever I brought it up (maybe twice in 50 years). When I first stumbled on TV Party many, many moons ago, it was the first video site I ever found and seemed magical. I watched half-minute snippets of old TV shows, things I hadn't seen since I was ten, and wept as if I had found the Holy Grail. That was before YouTube came along and wiped the whole thing off the map.

But! This site, this TV Party which is now known as Classic TV because somebody else (TWO somebody elses, in fact) stole their name, still has this weird, almost eerie "ding" sound when you first go on the page. It's an opening salvo, or a greeting, or something like that. It's an old sound, probably a '50s sound from when I was really little and didn't understand anything, and nobody would explain it to me. So it got stored in the back of my brain along with a thousand other bits of broken information.

BUT.

The ding was never entirely forgotten. Though it lasts about a tenth of a second, somebody was able to find the ding on some tape somewhere and reproduce it, so that each time you go on the Classic TV site, you get the ding. 90% of people, even boomers like me, won't know what the hell they're listening to. I didn't either, until I got that creeping, squicked-out, time machine feeling I get when the 1950s come back to me, and once again I sit in the middle of the living room floor with my fat little legs splayed out in front of me. Three years old, and trying to figure out Ernie Kovacs.

Ding.

An exploration of the paranormal

I pared these down. No, really. There were about fifteen of them originally. I just couldn't stop.

This creepy little ad for Sugar Crisp (now called, I think, Golden Crisp) predates Sugar Bear and his cool, Dean Martinesque "can't get enough of that Sugar Crisp" ditty.

There are three bears, of course. And you don't want to know these bears. They come swarming into your living room and cover your TV screen. They look like Ewoks, or, worse, something from the TV-movie version of Communion (remember Christopher Walken's dance?) or Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

My gifs have been slow and jerky lately. These are shorter ones, so I hope they do better. For some reason the animation in this just begged to be giffed. It's the creepiness of those bears with their jerky puppetry and cold, sociopathic eyes.

The reactions of little Janie and Johnny are almost as squick-inducing as the jerky ministrations of the Sugar Crisp Bears. Note the segue here: girl eats cereal; bear figure with pitcher appears for a nanosection in the right side of the frame, looking - if you pay attention - incredibly artificial; then the bear and the pitcher and Little Janie's bowl are shown in a different shot, so that they never all have to appear together. This saves having to combine live action with animation. The continuity here sucks. It took me a long time to figure out that this is supposed to be the same bowl/bear.

Bear talking. Creepy. Its fur seems to creep and crawl, indicating that it has fleas, or perhaps has been moved around by somebody's greasy fingers as they take each picture and string them together.

It's that jittering, that nervous, diddery thing that makes them so unsettling. They almost seem to be on the wrong speed. That, and the big staring eyes.

"Faster, kids. . . eat FASTER!" That weird sparkly thing is a big chunk of sugar with paranormal powers which bends these children to the bear's evil will. These ads often bragged about how you could (and should) eat Sugar Crisp "like candy". This seems horrible until you realize that Sugar Crisp probably had a fraction of the sugar content of Lucky Charms or Obese-berry or whatever-the-hell they have today.

Like I said. I boiled these down. I could have gone on forever. This is the sort of animation where you can repeat one frame. I don't know if this was stop motion or what, but it's motion that I wish would stop.

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

Amazon Author Page update

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

Ryan IS The Taekwondo Kid (purple belt division)!

The Taekwondo Kid: the colour purple!

The Taekwondo Kid: purple belt moves!

Friday, June 3, 2016

Here comes your ghost again

Well I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again

But that's not unusual

It's just that the moon is full

And you happened to call

And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest

Ten years ago

I bought you some cufflinks

You brought me something

We both know what memories can bring

They bring diamonds and rust

Well you burst on the scene

Already a legend

The unwashed phenomenon

The original vagabond

You strayed into my arms

And there you stayed

Temporarily lost at sea

The Madonna was yours for free

Yes the girl on the half-shell Would keep you

unharmed

Now I see you standing

With brown leaves falling around
And snow in your hair
Now you're smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square

Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me You're not nostalgic Then give me

another word for it You who are so good with words And at keeping things

vague

Because I need some of that vagueness now

It's all come back too clearly yes I loved you dearly

And if you're offering me diamonds and rust

I've already paid