On special outings when Gabriel and I go cycling together, I ride a copy of a high-wheel tricycle from the 1880s. Gabriel has three high-wheel bicycles, and he has ridden them hundreds of miles. On our vacation just last week, we rode our high-wheel cycles more than 75 miles along a historic railroad route between abandoned silver mines. I kept thinking of an article we had read in an 1883 cycling magazine about wheelmen riding bikes just like Gabriel's when they took a trip out to a mine.
Not gonna lie, I'd love to have a high wheel. Except for the fact that they're really expensive. And I'd break my neck. I could handle the one she's riding.
We went to a high wheel race a few weeks ago and there was a little girl on a miniature one that killed me with cuteness.
Also, notice the ironic and maddening juxtaposition in this thread -- actual human beings being objectified and dehumanized with that racist ad and yuppie privileged fools who are whining about being objectified and dehumanized, while willingly and purposefully playing dress up as old-timey yuppie, privileged fools.
There's a whole blog entry about how her day riding her old timey bike to the lavender fields was ruined because someone touched her skirt.
Yeah, that's not what happened according to what she wrote. Whether or not you agree with what she's doing or think she's a bit of a looney, it's not OK for strangers to touch you for any reason with out your permission, be it a curious touch or a full on exploration of her clothes. I'd be pissed too.
I have zero receipts for this, but wasn't there somebody on TN whose husband/husband's friend wanted black strippers at a bachelor party to act out some plantation fantasy he had?
I vaguely remember this being a thing, and for the life of me can't remember why.
Post by meshaliuknits on Sept 10, 2015 10:30:35 GMT -5
I'm not living my life knitting from Victorian patterns. "Knit the leg, turn the heel, knit the foot" does not tell me how you got that stitch pattern!
I have zero receipts for this, but wasn't there somebody on TN whose husband/husband's friend wanted black strippers at a bachelor party to act out some plantation fantasy he had?
I vaguely remember this being a thing, and for the life of me can't remember why.
This is ringing some bells. I only know about it because it's nest lore, though.
No. Just no. I love period garb as much if not more than the next gal. I've done the SCA thing, and frequent ren faires. Huzzah! Do not start with the holier than thou shit because you like playing pretend. Nope.
AND What the HELL is that Django themed birthday party nonsense. Please dear god tell me that this is some weird onion type satire shit. Cause my jaw is still in on the floor.
But if anyone needs a ride, she'll totally pick them up. She's just cool like that.
Again.....what the fuck is this. The layers of wrong in this make up a giant cake of disgusting. Who throws this party? Who goes to this? I cannot even imagine typing that out.
But if anyone needs a ride, she'll totally pick them up. She's just cool like that.
Again.....what the fuck is this. The layers of wrong in this make up a giant cake of disgusting. Who throws this party? Who goes to this? I cannot even imagine typing that out.
Sent from my SM-G900P using proboards
I'm really hoping that it didn't happen...and if it did, that all the guests walked out in disgust, as well as the husband.
Highlights (links n post) "Well, don’t let the hostile ignorance ground you down, Sarah Chrisman! We admire your commitment, at least, and would like to suggest some additions to your dreams: some more authentic Victorian activities perfect for a white woman to try out in her spare time.
Dredge corpses from the Thames River—make sure you get a good price!
Do not vote (until 1918, anyway).
Using the power of your uterus, supply Mother England with a new crop of British soldiers (just lie back and think of England, etc). Check out the old headlines announcing that Queen Victoria has become Empress of India—and then don’t forget to feel intense betrayal when the people you thought were friends turn against you in the Indian Mutiny of 1857. So fun!
While you’re at it, the Crimean War seems fun, too.
Pull that corset as tight as you can, your internal organs will be fine.
Spend the summer working in a blacking factory—Charles Dickens did! Or, if you’d prefer fresh air, London always needs street sweepers.
Publish under a pseudonym and be prepared for a dude to reveal your identity, even if you’d prefer he didn’t.
Die from cholera.
Die from syphilis.
Die from tuberculosis.
Have a baby out of wedlock and pay a baby farm to raise your child. It worked for Oliver Twist!
Have sex out of wedlock and then get shunned and disgraced, but hey, at least you’ll have a poem or two written in your honor.
Throw out your birth control in favor of a vaginal douche. Ah, the refreshing feeling of quinine sulfate.
Don’t make your own medical decisions. That’s what husbands and fathers are for. Look at the bright side: You can take a break at any number of asylums.
Need a job and not interested in prostitution? The cotton factories of Northern England are very posh and very good for your lungs.
But prostitution is always an option.
It was very safe.
And heavily regulated in the kindest of ways.
Contemplate the possibility of people of color making a difference in the world.
Your paintings will rarely hang in art galleries, but you can try your luck as a muse.
If you’ve read Jane Eyre, you’ll know that being sent away to school is always a real treat. Lowood forever, bitches!
Take a leisurely walk through London during The Great Stink.
Think about what persecution really means.
Take in a game of rat-baiting.
Feel comforted by the efficiency of the British legal system.
See the world after you’re deported to the colonies for stealing bread. (You just have to survive the sea voyage, but NBD."
No. Just no. I love period garb as much if not more than the next gal. I've done the SCA thing, and frequent ren faires. Huzzah! Do not start with the holier than thou shit because you like playing pretend. Nope.
AND What the HELL is that Django themed birthday party nonsense. Please dear god tell me that this is some weird onion type satire shit. Cause my jaw is still in on the floor.
But if anyone needs a ride, she'll totally pick them up. She's just cool like that.
This party was apparently in my city. I shouldn't be surprised. And yet I am.
I wonder if it's one of my neighbors. I didn't see any Madingo fights this spring.
It seems as though Mr Deen is having a birthday party.
I hope these hipsters are of the right Christian denomination. Would br want to be methodist when the right people are Presbyterian! (Tmobile Mrs Rachel lynde)
It must be so hard fearing for your life when someone touches your skirts. I'm sure you can find any number of impoverished workers and minorities who can relate. Go swap stories! Why not start by talking to that nice negro man who once may have made eye contact with a white lady.
This is ringing some bells. I only know about it because it's nest lore, though.
Elle's husband, though I think it wasn't her husband but one of his friends. As I recall he didn't end up going, but it was, like, a decision he had to make; so it was flamed to shit and back because holy crap.
There's a whole blog entry about how her day riding her old timey bike to the lavender fields was ruined because someone touched her skirt.
Yeah, that's not what happened according to what she wrote. Whether or not you agree with what she's doing or think she's a bit of a looney, it's not OK for strangers to touch you for any reason with out your permission, be it a curious touch or a full on exploration of her clothes. I'd be pissed too.
Absolutely, it was wrong to touch her, and she's entitled to whatever feelings she has about it. But the martyrdom feels a bit rich in context of the period, considering she's romanticizing a period in which a lot worse happened to a LOT of parts of society, including white women.
Yeah, that's not what happened according to what she wrote. Whether or not you agree with what she's doing or think she's a bit of a looney, it's not OK for strangers to touch you for any reason with out your permission, be it a curious touch or a full on exploration of her clothes. I'd be pissed too.
Absolutely, it was wrong to touch her, and she's entitled to whatever feelings she has about it. But the martyrdom feels a bit rich in context of the period, considering she's romanticizing a period in which a lot worse happened to a LOT of parts of society, including white women.
On special outings when Gabriel and I go cycling together, I ride a copy of a high-wheel tricycle from the 1880s. Gabriel has three high-wheel bicycles, and he has ridden them hundreds of miles. On our vacation just last week, we rode our high-wheel cycles more than 75 miles along a historic railroad route between abandoned silver mines. I kept thinking of an article we had read in an 1883 cycling magazine about wheelmen riding bikes just like Gabriel's when they took a trip out to a mine.
This looks like something people who went to the University of Chicago would do.
No one knows better than I do how cruel society can be to those who choose not to conform to its mores. My wife and I have chosen to live our lives strictly as though it were the year 2012, and we face near constant mocking of our uncompromising lifestyle.
The looks I get when people see me using my iPhone 5 are deeply hurtful. I can see the judgment in their eyes.
They look at my slightly unfashionable clothes and see a freak. But I am no freak, just a man who chooses to live in a simpler, more innocent time, a time when abortion was slightly more accessible in several states.
Yes, our choices come with sacrifice. When I went to HR to complain that my coworkers were creating a hostile work environment by discussing Seasons 6 and 7 of Mad Men — seasons that literally don’t exist in the world I choose to live in — I was met with disbelief and derision.
I don’t need your fancy modern technology. My 2012 Mazda gets us around just fine. Our high-definition, flat-screen television isn’t curved, but we manage.
Do you think it’s easy maintaining a lifestyle so different from yours? You think we don’t face challenges? I want to make jokes about how it’s the year in Back to the Future Part II, just like you do. I’d like to support someone for President other than Barack Obama.
Your social life is probably full of hot new restaurants and the latest movies. Not us. If we want to go on a date, we have to choose a place that’s successful enough to have been around for at least three years. The movies we watch are all on Netflix — and that means the DVDs come in the mail. (Streaming was available in 2012, but it’s really hard to keep track of what was available to stream back then.)
Yes, we have to make a few concessions to live in the modern world. We do our best to ignore our son, born in 2013, but the law requires us to feed and clothe him. Society’s cruel discrimination against us means that our six-year-old daughter was moved up from preschool against our wishes.
But we soldier on, committed to our 2012 lifestyle.
Are we better than you for choosing to live this way? No. Well, maybe a little. We are definitely not worse than you, and we are sick of being treated like pariahs just because we choose to live in a time different from yours.
The year of the London Olympics. The year Christopher Nolan’s vision for Batman came to a close. Benghazi. Clearly 2012 was the peak of human civilization, and I for one refuse to move on.
I notice they don't have children. I can't help but wonder if they're using modern contraceptives. I mean, I don't understand why they aren't making their own condoms from sheep intestine. If you want to be authentic...
I notice they don't have children. I can't help but wonder if they're using modern contraceptives. I mean, I don't understand why they aren't making their own condoms from sheep intestine. If you want to be authentic...
Hell, why not use crocodile dung mixed with honey?
Then again, untreated syphilis can make one sterile. ..