vol #17: mustang, girlhood & manoosh
good morning princess pie!
anyway, welcome back (okay, presumptuous of me!!!) to sent from my iphone with love, your hot links to epic things that i have found On The Line and the irl bit, which is hot reccos for Real Life Living™
the mustang girlie twirls <3
this is the online bit
welcome to my island [official music video], caroline polachek
i know i’m late to the party. don’t care. mythology? hot. self mythologising? hotter.
the first time i saw this movie i watched it five times in one week.
the film is, for all intents and purposes, a turkish virgin suicides. the five sisters, near indistinguishable with their unbrushed rapunzel locks (this time brune not blonde), roll around under summer holiday house arrest. my psyche, a natural reaction to spending years of my adolescence on tumblr, is hardwired to recognise images of girls lying tangled in dappled light as something holy. feet brushing faces, a 10 legged beast. beautiful. heartbreaking, but beautiful.
photographing the magic of british suburban girlhood, the face
ever obsessing over girlhood, i found this. it’s beyond gorgeous and makes my heart hurt. not to be all dolly alderton, but my first love will always be female friendship. i would die without my coven.
To experience your girlhood in the British suburbs is to have an awareness of the sensation of limits; it’s also the attempt to test those limits, of your surroundings and yourself. There are the traditional rites of passage: first cigarette, first kiss, first lie to a parent. But there are also the more peculiar ones, the ones that occur in their own sphere, separate to parental rules. Within the girl world, there’s a claustrophobic intimacy – a devouringness – that produces strange, coven-like behaviours. It feels somehow necessary to ride in a supermarket trolley through a retail park. To speak in secret languages peppered with words either made-up completely or existing at the farthest reaches of the acceptable: deploying the worst swear words you can imagine, the most insulting, the challenge being to throw them out as casually as possible, in combination with streams of delirious giggles. And, in the most severe contrast of the mundane with the magical, to share a bottle of straight vodka in a church graveyard at night. And if these behaviours aren’t their own kind of tradition, after all, then why do they pass down like a contagion?
elaine constantine, the face
this is the irl bit
manoosh
this is a manoosh stan account. in the past week i’ve had it 3 times. on sunday we ate so much i woke up the next day with a salt induced hypertension face lift. i literally looked like i had a third tit sitting on the top of my shoulders.
parry swears that al fayhaa bakery is better manoosh, but when i’m tryna chow down, you know i’m not in a state to pick up. the gluten free options are fucken epic and the salt they put on the chips is gold dust.
the order:
flaming peri peri gf wrap
chips with garlic and chilli sauce
probably not a good idea to kiss anyone after you eat this.
the best part about staying at someone’s place is using their products. during my sojourn in melbourne, i scrubbed myself silly with all of the bits in maddie’s shower, discerning based on assumed $$ per square goop.
the whole time i was there everyone told me my hair looked incredible, to which i responded i know. a housemate has recently acquired a fresh set of bottles. and so the cycle continues.
king princess
i remember reading one time that king princess has a personal underarm hair stylist. i can’t wait till i’m successful enough to be creating jobs out of maintaining my body parts. first port of call: hiring a personal gua shua-er. then i’m definitely hiring someone who wants to brush my hair while we watch tv. atm my housemates are picking up the slack but i fear their generosity has an expiry date.
anyway, king princess; the lesbian taylor swift. i’ve been blasting her for the past week, as if i’ve been dragged through the depths of sapphic hell by the roots of my deliciously androgynous hair. i haven’t, by the way. if you know someone that can do that for me, lmk.
it’s too much
toodle pip darling pie