(via perstephsanscouronne)
This is the kind of sartorial regression I would truly like to engage in, but I’m having some difficulty actually finding clothes like this, that aren’t, well, Balenciaga.
(via perstephsanscouronne)
Sigh…my friends laugh at what I wear to football games. Admittedly, I’m not much of a sports spectator…so how was I to know that a silk skirt, ballet slippers and a top with beading are not the done thing?
(Source: valentinovamp)
~ McElroy’s Philadelphia City Directory, 1862
via Internet Archive
(click to enlarge)
“It should be borne in mind, too, that the popularity of these “Family Medicines” is not confined to the illiterate and credulous, but innumerable persons of intelligence and character….not only use, but speak of them in the highest terms of praise”I love these old adverts. I rarely post stuff that isn’t the quirky concise quackery, but this one is too good.
I am a person of Intelligence and Character and I recommend Dr. D. Jayne’s Family Medicines.
~ Evanston Directory; Evanston, Illinois; 1880-1881
via Internet Archive
“No Arsenic or other Barbarous Engine for mutilating humanity and murdering peace and happiness”
They really don’t make ads like this anymore.
"
A Farewell to False Love
Farewell false love, the oracle of lies,
A mortal foe and enemy to rest,
An envious boy, from whom all cares arise,
A bastard vile, a beast with rage possessed,
A way of error, a temple full of treason,
In all effects contrary unto reason.
A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers,
Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose,
A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers
As moisture lend to every grief that grows;
A school of guile, a net of deep deceit,
A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait.
A fortress foiled, which reason did defend,
A siren song, a fever of the mind,
A maze wherein affection finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs before the wind,
A substance like the shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear,
A path that leads to peril and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and despair,
An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure’s lap,
A deep mistrust of that which certain seems,
A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.
Sith* then thy trains my younger years betrayed,[since]
And for my faith ingratitude I find;
And sith repentance hath my wrongs bewrayed*,[revealed]
Whose course was ever contrary to kind*:[nature]
False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu.
Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.
— Sir Walter Raleigh (via minnagaetisbyrjun)
