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8iunie · 1 year

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Måneskin: ‘People are going to talk s**t about you. It’s part of the game’

From X Factor to Eurovision to interstellar fame, the Italian rockers have turned not being cool into a superpower (posted on 21.01.2023)

Down a video link from Rome, Gen Z’s favourite rock band, Måneskin, are making enthusiastic thumbs-up gestures. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” says guitarist Thomas Raggi, in his rich and rococo Italian accent. “We’re gonna vote for Ireland,” agrees frontman Damiano David. “Go for it.”

The Irish Times has just canvassed Måneskin’s opinion about Public Image Limited singer John Lydon’s ambition to represent Ireland at Eurovision 2023. The former Johnny Rotten wants to boldly go where no punk iconoclast has previously ventured by following in the footsteps of Dana, Johnny Logan and Dustin the Turkey.

Johnny Rotten singing for Ireland is, in theory, an absurd proposition. But so is the idea of an Italian rock band in sex-dungeon dungarees conquering Eurovision with lyrics such as “you better hold on to your balls”. Which is exactly what Måneskin achieved in Rotterdam in 2021 with the zinging Zitti e Buoni (“Shut Up and Behave”).

Indeed it is arguable Lydon might not have even considered Eurovision were it not for Måneskin. Squeezed into unforgiving leather trousers, tattoos on proud display, they gatecrashed Rotterdam with red eyes and flared nostrils. In doing so, they refashioned Europe’s pre-eminent cheesefest in their own image. Eurovision has been a lot of things in the past 20 years. It took Måneskin to make it cool.

Since then they haven’t looked back. Måneskin have won Best Rock Act at the MTV Europe Music Awards, supported The Rolling Stones in Las Vegas and covered Elvis’s I Can Dream for Baz Luhrmann’s hit Presley biopic.

Now, they are about to open the most exciting chapter of their career to date with the release on January 19th of their fantastic third album, Rush! It captures the group at their most riotous – so much so that it comes as a shock to learn it was produced by Taylor Swift/Britney Spears collaborator Max Martin. At moments they sound like Queen trapped in a Fellini movie. Elsewhere, they’re straight-ahead punk. At one point they appear to be channelling Rage Against The Machine – hardly a surprise since RATM guitarist Tom Morello guests on new single Gossip.

“We’re trying to play with our own rules. And not the rules that in the past five to 10 years have dominated the music industry,” says David (24), earrings glinting in the harsh studio light.

Måneskin don’t claim to be reinventing the wheel. Still, they are well aware of how much they stand out in a musical landscape dominated by pop.

“We go on TV shows and play rock music. Which is uncommon. We do analogue music, which is uncommon. We are a four-piece band,” says David, radiating lounge-lizard charisma. “There are a lot of things in how we create or project and how we show ourselves… I wouldn’t say it’s unique. It isn’t anything that hasn’t been done before. But it’s unique in today’s environment.”

Måneskin have come along at the perfect moment. Mainstream rock, comatose for a least a decade, is crying out for a recharge. Now the status quo has been upended by a group who make headbanging riffs and cock-a-hoop bass solos seem as fresh and daring as Harry Styles in a dress.

“A lot of people love us because we are showing them something that feels new,” says David. “For a lot of kids, rock music is new.”

It isn’t just the kids. Iggy Pop cameos on Måneskin’s 2021 single, I Wanna Be Your Slave. At Coachella last year, Jared Leto sought them out for a selfie. Chris Martin insisted David have lunch with him on that same trip. People don’t simply like Måneskin – they adore them.

“We get messages where people say, ‘my five-year-old is now obsessed with Rage Against The Machine because he listened to your song,’” says David. “Basically if you want to make it simple: we sound new for many different reasons – even though we are not new.”

Not all new fans are as welcome. After the Eurovision, French president Emmanuel Macron suggested Måneskin be disqualified because of the “fake cocaine” controversy [see below]. One of those rallying to their defence was right-wing politician Giorgia Meloni. She was subsequently appointed prime minister of Italy. The musicians weren’t aware of her intervention on their behalf before The Irish Times brings it up, and would rather Meloni keep her opinions to herself.

“I don’t want support from them,” says Raggi.

Måneskin’s music isn’t explicitly political. But they know where they stand. And it isn’t with Meloni’s populist Brothers of Italy party. Following her election, David took to Instagram to lament Italy’s drift to the right. “Today is a sad day for my country,” he wrote, linking to a story in newspaper La Repubblica.

“I would do it again. One hundred per cent,” he says, shrugging. “I don’t even know what to say. It’s hard not to say something offending [about Meloni and her supporters]. It’s clear that we’re making the same mistakes that we made in the past. Maybe we didn’t study the story well enough. Our generation is not going to make the same mistakes, hopefully. Italy has a very good taste for old-fashioned things. It doesn’t surprise me,” he continues, referring to Italy’s history of supporting right-wing politicians.

The band formed in Rome in 2016. David, Raggi and bassist Victoria De Angelis [who is under the weather and sitting out the interview] knew each other from high school. They met Ethan Torchio, from the suburb of Frosinone, after advertising for a drummer on Facebook.

De Angelis came up with their name. “Måneskin” is Danish for moonlight. The bassist suggested it, in part as tribute to her Danish mother who died when her daughter was 15. From there they had a rapid ascent. A stint busking in central Rome was followed by a tilt at X Factor Italy, where they blitzed their way to the final with molten versions of Somebody Told Me by The Killers and Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand. Then came Eurovision and the global stage.

Måneskin are great fun. But the energy rippling through their music is interwoven with a fascination with the dark side of human nature. Gossip, for instance, interrogates the American dream and finds it wanting. “Welcome to the city of lies/ Where everything’s got a price,” they sing. They also take on Christianity. The Eurovision winner Zitti e Buoni contains the marvellously baroque lyric, “I wrote above a tombstone: ‘In my house there is no God.’”

“None of us is very Catholic. We don’t have that much influence. We have the opposite influence,” says David. “We feel the weight of the church on society, on our country. We see how late we are on many, many things because of the influence of the church. We have this hateful relationship.”

He pauses, at pains not to be misinterpreted. “I would like to make it clear that [Måneskin’s problems] are with the institution of the church. Nothing against religion. It’s a beautiful thing. The institution of the church and the money-laundering and all that… I’ll shut up.”

Eurovision was a baptism for Måneskin. However, their coming-out party threatened to turn sour amid an ersatz scandal over David supposedly taking cocaine. A photograph of the singer leaning over the table in the green room was seized on as evidence of illicit drug use.

The image was beamed around the world. There were calls – from Macron and others – for the group to be stripped of their title. Which is what prompted Meloni’s unwelcome intervention. David passed a drugs test and was cleared of any inappropriate behaviour. By then, though, Måneskin were all over the front pages and the talk of the internet. Did they fear they had blown it?

“We were laughing,” says David. “But we were pissed off. We were not worried about anything. The thing that disturbed me was that we had done something meaningful and great. We were a four-piece rock band from 20 to 22 years old who were breaking the hugest TV show in Europe. This was being overshadowed by some assholes who were not good at accepting the loss. I was pissed off that they had the power to do it. And that people were letting them do it.”

They made peace with the controversy by accepting that it was merely a downside of success. Once you achieve a certain level of celebrity, people will come after you.

“We know that being famous and winning and having a good career leads to criticism,” says David. “People are going to wait for you to make some mistake and talk s**t about you. It’s part of the game. You have to be stronger than it. If you are able to make irony about it and laugh about it… It’s kind of a superpower.”

There have been other controversies. Their performance of Supermodel from the 2022 MTV VMA Awards was heavily edited to conceal De Angelis’s exposed breast (though the cameras still caught David’s bare-bummed chap trousers).

“They have weird censorship rules,” says David of MTV and American broadcasting in general. “You can show guns and people dancing on huge dicks on stage. You cannot show a female nipple. I think it was worse for them than for us. We did our performance. They showed how it doesn’t make sense – their politics.”

Rush! copperfastens Måneskin’s status as the most exciting force in mainstream rock. It confirms, too, that they are magpies, with David drawing on everyone from Freddie Mercury to Kurt Cobain. And from Bono. U2 are adored in Italy and David says that their influence has seeped into his band.

“U2 have been so big it’s impossible not to be influenced. Indirectly, you’re influenced. The idea of the big frontman and blah blah blah. I think that indirectly it has been very strong. Also, putting the political into the music… they really changed that. Made it more common.”

The comparison goes beyond music. U2 were never much bothered about being cool. They never went out of fashion because they weren’t particularly fashionable to begin with. The same is true of Måneskin. From X Factor to Eurovision to interstellar fame, they have turned not being cool into a superpower, as David acknowledges.

“It’s a bit insecure to have this mindset [of wanting to be credible]. The idea that if you go to a pop environment, you’re not rock any more. It’s insecurity. Fortunately we were confident enough of our music and our identity to not think a stage or a TV show could change us. In fact, it didn’t happen. We brought ourselves everywhere we went. It was always the right thing to do. It is the only advice we could give to anybody. Bring yourself to the table. Don’t try to conform.”

Writer: Ed Power for The Irish Times

#måneskin #maneskin #article #interview #january 2023 #my posts 💫#the irish times

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wastelesscrafts · 2 years

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I got a bunch of clothes from a relative recently, among them a pair of ripped pajama bottoms. I have plenty of pajama pants already, so I wanted to convert it into pajama shorts. What's the best way to do that?

Pyjama bottoms to shorts

That's a pretty easy project!

Put on your pants, stand in front of a mirror, and mark where you want your shorts to end with chalk (a scrap of soap will also do).

Take off your pants and draw a line on both legs at this length mark, making sure they're even. Try your pants again to double-check if everything looks good.

Don't cut yet! You'll need extra fabric for your hem. Draw a second line below your original line: how much space you need depends on how thick your fabric is and what type of hem you want to use.

There are many ways to hem fabric, but one of the easiest is the double-fold hem: fold your fabric edge twice, encasing the raw edge into the fold, and sew it into place.

(Image source) [ID: close-up on a double-folded hem in a beige fabric with green accents.]

Decide how much fabric to use for your hem, cut off the excess fabric, hem your shorts, and you're done!

Put the legs aside: they can be reused for other sewing projects, or to patch up your new shorts in case they develop holes in the future.

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goldtracing · 3 years

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Part XI – England & America – Great Depression to post-WWII (1930 – 1949)

So, I’m finally back again. Again with a post both about America and England. Hope you enjoy it.

England:

The Great Depression would have hit Arthur hard – so tight suits for him. However, I think he would have clung on to his vests. In his eyes, a vest simply would belong to a suit and would have the wearer look more dignified. That would have been especially true during a time of poverty.

Then with economy raising again, things would have become more lavish. As in better quality suits, heavy shoulder padding and maybe even a fedora. Trousers would have remained slim, as opposed to the rather flowy ones that became popular with the youth during that time. Black and blue would have remained his go-to colours when it came to formal wear, since he wouldn’t have fancied some of the flashier colours. Maybe tan trousers, for manual labour, if he would have done it, and kaki for when he would have visited his colonies. I see just see him as old fashioned in regards to that.

With the war, rationing would have been introduced, something that would have persisted long after the end of the war as well. Because of this, he would have stuck to his pre-war suits with the long lapels and buttons. The motto as the 40s in England was “Make do and mend” so he might have gotten a bit creative and had some of his old clothing refashioned.

As for his time in the army. At the very least I see him being a Major – an office that meant he was fighting on the battle field but was just one promotion away from being taken off it. That would have still meant he would have one of the dress uniforms, with the red markings and baggy trousers.

Also, when he would have been in London, he would have always had a siren suit at the ready. These were room, warm and very comfortable overalls, introduced as a clothing article that one would quickly jump in when the sirens started ringing.

Concerning the years after the war – the newest editions would have been knitted vest with high V-necklines as a form of “casual wear” and a sports coat, given to him as a present by his gracious and loving eldest son. Aside from that, I think he would have some taken to using a cane, or using an umbrella as a cane, due to the injuries sustained in the war. Being cut down in seize and influence would have prolonged the healing process.

America:

With the Great Depression happening, Alfred would have had to change his clothing style immensely. Tighter fits became the norm – yet they weren’t what we understand as tight; there was still a lot of room around the ankles. Besides being tight, more sombre colours were more fashionable when it came to suits – black, tan, and blue. He would have foregone wearing vests and the sort. Furthermore, he would have also stuck to his outfits from before the inflation – leather jackets and all that.

Yet as the 30s would have continued and the economy would have improved, his clothing would have become more lavish. As in pinstriped suits with fuller sleeves, cuffed pants and heavy shoulder padding. Shoulder padding was very important during this time since the aim was to make the torso look bigger.

This was also the age when more modern clothing items became popular. Alfred would have been amongst to first to get boxers with elastic bands and trousers with zippers, because it was new and innovative and practical. No more grand hassle with buttons and throws. I also see him as one of the first to get sunglasses, since they came to the market in this period, or “cheaters” as they were known, since they concealed a person’s identity. That fact would have just made them all the more appealing to Alfred.

I’m also certain that he would have gotten himself one of those infamous Zoot suits, with their long, loose coats and baggy pants, preferably in a very outrageous colour like purple. It would have been banished to the back of his wardrobe during the WWII since it was seen as very unpatriotic to wear something flashy and defined rationing. Off-duty, he would have worn an austere suit.

Since I see him being a pilot during the WWII his on duty clothing would have included one of the famous leather jackets. Uniform-wise, the Air Force was seen as one of the better branches of the military, even more so by the British. This was the cause of a lot of snobbery as in the pilots being so much better looking than the rest of the army with their slicked back hair and fine clothing. So, picture a haggard Arthur being all bitter about his smug and handsome son.

After the war, it was popular to repurpose army uniforms – hence why Alfred would have kept a whole collection of bomber jackets and avatar shades and included them into his civilian clothing. The trousers would have also joined them, probably.

Then, approaching the late 40s, fashion became very flashy. As in brightly coloured suits, wide, ridiculously coloured ties and t-shirts and Hawaii shirts. Aside his bomber jacket collection, he would have probably a Hawaii shirt collection – they were insanely poplar after all. With the American economy flourishing, he would have been able to afford it, and would have brought out his Zoot suit once again.

Part I – On the fashion attitudes of England and America Part II – England: The early years (950 – 1400) Part III – America: The early years (1600 – 1700) Part IV - England - The Tudors (1400 - 1600) Part V – America: Independence (1700 – 1800) Part VI – England: The Stuarts (1600 – 1700) Part VII – England: The Georgian Era (1700 – 1830) Part VIII – America: The Civil War & The Gilded Age (1800 – 1900) Part IX – England: The Victorian Era (1830 – 1901) Part X – England & America – Edwardian Era to Roaring 20s (1900 – 1929)

Part XI – England & America – Great Depression to post-WWII (1930 – 1949)

Part XII – England & America: Cold War Part I (1950 – 60)

#historical fashion #historical hetalia #aph america #aph england #hetalia #hws england #hws america

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trendresearch · 3 years

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2) Reading Week Homework

Before the module began, my tutors gave homework to help prepare me for the module.

The first was to read Holland. G and Jones, R (2017). ‘Fashion Trend Forecasting’

and the second was to research trends, considering the following criteria:

TITLE/THEME

FABRIC SELECTION

KEY SHAPES/GARMENTS

COLOUR PALETTE

& KEYWORDS

My chosen trends...

1) THE MINISKIRT:

Image taken from: https://www.wmagazine.com/story/miniskirts-womens-liberation-trend/

Title/Theme: Mini Skirt

Fabric Selection: Varies from Denim, stretchy Cotton, Leather to Knit and tweed

Key Shapes/Garments: Usually tight fitted but can be flared and free flowing, A-line shape, pleats, ruffles.

Colour Palette: Patterns vary from plaid/checkered to floral- Denim blue/black. Colour palette is broad and open ranging from anything to colourful and bright to more muted and monochromatic tones.

Key Words: ‘Women’s Liberation movement’, ‘Mary Quant’, ‘1960′s’, ‘Mod’, ‘André Courrèges’, ‘Swinging London’, ‘Space Age’, ‘Twiggy’,

Contexual Information:

Since the early 1960s, miniskirts have existed as a symbol of women's liberation. The pioneers of the mini skirt are attributed to designers Mary Quant and André Courrèges. Popularised in "Swinging London," by the likes of model Twiggy whose most famous attire was that of a mod mini skirt.

Image taken from: https://byronsmuse.wordpress.com/2015/08/09/twiggy-the-face-of-1966/

Paris adopted this look and became part of the Space Age trend and becoming a staple part of a political standpoint with activists like Germaine Greer and Gloria Steinem making the miniskirt a symbol of the women’s movement. It wasn't long before the miniskirt became a symbol for female liberation.

Images taken from:

https://france-amerique.com/en/cardins-space-age-fashion-touches-down-in-brooklyn/

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/09/business/andre-courreges-fashion-designer-who-redefined-couture-dies-at-92.html

However, not everyone agreed with the design with society deeming the high hemline as controversial even designers like Dior refusing to feature the hottest trend on their runways and Chanel questioning the trend wearers if they: ‘‘Have they all gone mad?’’

However, despite much acquisition from the public The Miniskirt has never quite faded throughout history since it began—with icons like Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell and The Spice Girls sporting this look throughout the 90′s. However, it made a more prominent comeback in the early 2000s, with American designers like Tom Ford bringing sexy back into fashion, and It girls like Paris Hilton raising hemlines even further with denim miniskirts, concluding what we now call the ‘micro mini’.

Even today, the miniskirt is still a staple part of fashion and is frequently seen being sported by the likes of Bella Hadid, Kendall Jenner and super models alike.

2) Punk

Image found and taken from: http://devilinspiredgothicpunkdress.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-1970s-punk-fashion-for-men-and-women.html

Title/Theme: Punk

Fabric Selection: leather, fishnet, tartan/plaid, vinyl, rubber

Key Shapes/Garments: Tight fitting leather jackets, ripped jeans, shorts, black tights, studs, pleated skirts, loose flannels, chains, chunky boots; motorcycle boots, combat boots and doc Martens, tapered jeans, tight leather pants and ‘bondage’ attire

Colour Palette: Typically a darker selection of colours; black and red are common colour combinations.

Contexual Information:

The Punk subculture first emerged in the mid 1970s in London as an anarchic and aggressive movement. It is generally regarded as a defining moment in British cultural history; encapsulating the socio-economic and political climate of the late 1970s. Punks deconstructed garments into new forms, using clothes from charity and thrift shops, destroying the fabric and refashioning outfits that was often thought of as crude-attracting attention. In this day and age torn fabrics, frayed edges and defaced prints are now considered normal but in the 1970s it shocked many people, because it had never been seen before. Until then fabric had been treated as a material to keep as pristine, and as beautiful as possible.

Black leather, studs, chains, bondage, animal print bum flaps and leg straps epitomise some of the looks that immediately spring to mind when thinking of the early punks.

Image found and taken from: http://www.anothermag.com/fashion-beauty/9432/the-ten-most-iconic-safety-pin-moments-in-fashion

Image found and taken from: http://devorahmacdonald.blogspot.com/2014/06/vivienne-westwoods-seditionaries.html

Vivienne Westwood is often coined as the pioneer of the Punk subculture; from her little boutique ‘Worlds end’ in Chelsea, Vivienne Westwood designed original punk clothing, adding tears and safety pins to clothes long before the punk aesthetic hit mainstream attention. Her controversial ‘God Save The Queen’ T-Shirt quickly rose to notoriety in the public eye after she faced prosecution under the obscenity act. Punk as a style succeeded even more when Vivienne Westwood and her husband Malcolm McLaren launched the infamous ‘SEX’ shop which was renamed Seditionaries in 1976 which was considered a hub for rebels and riot kids. They sold leather and rubber fetish goods, especially bondage trousers and produced designs flexed by the band ‘Sex Pistols’ and Siouxsie ( Siouxsie and the Banshees) now, back in fashion with Cara Delevigne.

Cara Delevigne wearing a Seditionaries 'Tits' inspired T-shirt by Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm Mclaren.

3) 90′s StreetWear

Image found and taken from: http://www.thefader.com/2016/10/17/how-to-wear-90s-streetwear

Title/Theme: 90′s Streetwear

Fabric Selection: Denim, velour, leather, nylon, corduroy

Key Shapes/Garments: oversized and loose fitting; baggy jeans and ‘sweatpants’/joggers, loose T-shirts, ‘sneakers’/trainers, bucket hats, bandanas, tracksuits, windbreakers, dungarees, denim jackets.

Colour Palette: Bright colours, primary colour palette, bold designs

Contexual Information:

The '90s valued colours and aesthetics in designs; colour blocking is a common occurrence. The 90′s style is focused on baggy jeans, loose fitting t-shirts and jackets and can have ‘grunge’ elements with ripped jeans and flannel shirts. Sport and Athletic brands such as Adidas, Nike, Fila, Kappa and more alike were heavily sought after and worn; with their bold colourful logos never going a miss.

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doodlebless · 4 years

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Yeah, I thought about a dress at first (light blue with rainbow lining and her traditional coat), but lets be honest, within 15 minutes, she'd be fed up, have ripped that sucker up, refashioned the dress as trousers, taken off and given both Yaz and The Master a nose bleed.

Yup, pretty much! xD

#katiegangel

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abitofcolor · 4 years

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Repurposed, recycled and refashioned apparel is both a fashion statement and a movement to reduce the excess waste in the clothing industries. While there are several interesting brands pursuing this direction, one of my favorites is @pentimento.shop The one man shop owner, designer & maker from Georgia, Timothy Haught, is turning out a remarkable collection of shirts, chore coats, jackets and trousers using a variety of vintage fabrics ranging from old quilts, tent material, flour sacks, tea towels and all kinds of fabrics from different periods in an array of styles. Check out his Instagram link to see his collection of one-of-a- kind pieces for sale. And thanks to @bandanna_almanac for the introduction. #fashion #instafashion #styleforum #ptoman #style #repurposed #recycledfashion #creative #handmade #handsewn #vintage #clothing #menswear #mensfashion #gq #esquire #unisex https://www.instagram.com/p/B_QfBP1JW22/?igshid=vko2q64p8dre

#fashion #instafashion #styleforum #ptoman #style #repurposed #recycledfashion #creative #handmade #handsewn #vintage #clothing #menswear #mensfashion #gq #esquire #unisex

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chicenvelopements · 4 years

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1970's Sew Along: Amy Smith

1970’s Sew Along: Amy Smith

Amy Smith sewed along with us this week and she turned a rather shapeless dress into some funky trousers. Now these are some serious bell bottoms! Be sure to send in your before and after pictures to [email protected] if you’ve been sewing along this season. We’d love to see what you’ve created, too.

Friday is the last day to vote for your favorite Refashion Runway Designer in the 1970’s…

View On WordPress

#1970s #Sew along

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actualshonenprotagonist · 5 years

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The waistcoat lining had most of its wear evenly at the shoulders, which is odd. I would expect to see it in the underarm area. Possible explanations are wearing a backpack or leaving the waistcoat on a hanger (maybe the original owner preferred to wear the jacket and trousers as a two piece). The original colour of the lining is obviously not what it is currently, but I'm not sure if it was white or simply a lighter cream or ivory colour. #1930s #1930ssuit #1930sclothing #vintageclothing #vintage #historicalclothing #refashioning #waistcoat #threepiecesuit https://www.instagram.com/p/BsgTxIfj1Z8/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=14oeuszv6qfxa

#1930s #1930ssuit #1930sclothing #vintageclothing #vintage #historicalclothing #refashioning #waistcoat #threepiecesuit

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confessionsofarefashionista · 3 months

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youtube

Discover the amazing vintage trousers I scored for 50% off + check out how I style them too!

#refashionista sheri #refashion #thrift haul #vintage trousers #upcycle #sustainable fashion #upcycled clothing #preloved #thrift style #secondhand #refashionista #reuse #80s style #vintage fashion #how to style 80s #Youtube

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quillovesdbz · 6 years

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Submission for week 4 of @tpthvegebulmayhem (1/3)

Clandestine Downfall

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7

Chapter 5: The Lavender Lie

Rating: M

Genre: Cloak and Dagger, Fantasy, Fairytale AU, Dark Fiction, Mystery, Smut

TW: Violence, psychological abuse, physical abuse, light smut, homophobic ideology, depiction of intellectual disability.

Summary: Bulma continues her investigation, and she finds a lead. Vegeta pushes Bulma further and further away, but does he mean to hurt her so? Or is he trying to keep her safe? Bardock orders the arrest of Bulma.

Nearly two weeks later was the first time she talked to him again. She had been on a pointless mission, investigating and sticking her nose exactly where it didn’t belong. She had befriended some of the kitchen staff, namely Fasha and Marron, two chatty girls who she confirmed had a crush on her. Bulma spun this to her advantage, playing hard to get or rather, impossible to get. But they didn’t have to know that. As long as she toyed with them, they fed her information. As useless as that information had turned out to be, it was information nonetheless.

From the girls she had learned of a servant who had come as a cook, but had recently disappeared, leaving the kitchen matron, Mai, in charge. This happened on the exact day the prince and Nappa had left to arrest Bulma. So Mai became suspect number one, and Bulma had to share the news with the prince. She felt almost too excited to talk to him again, and nearly danced to his chambers in the middle of the night. As she knocked, she unconsciously grinned toothily, anticipating being able to speak with him.

For two weeks he avoided her. He now knew that becoming king meant he could never have her. It burned him deeply, but over the course of the two weeks he was beginning to let go of her. His heart had begun to heal, and he realized the mistake of falling in love with her.

“You come with good news, I hope. Because if not, leave my presence.” Vegeta spit harshly at the disguised Bulma. She was wearing a blue jacket with knee length coattails over a pale yellow doublet. Her trousers were a very plain beige, and her boots slightly darker leather. Her sword hung at her hip now, she had refashioned the belt to fit her slight frame instead of hanging loosely at her back. She was a vision of regal style, though not overly fancy. He eyed her up and down suspiciously, awaiting her answer.

“No news, my prince. However I have a lead,” she glanced past his shoulder and inside his chambers where it appeared he was enjoying tea… alone. “Perhaps I could join you to discuss?” She suggested, dropping her smile and adopting a more serious expression.

He said nothing, just rolled his eyes to the ceiling and turned to make his way back toward the table. A very uninviting welcome, if Bulma had ever seen one.

The Prince’s chambers were over triple the area of her own, and contained several extra pieces that hers did not. He had a lavish bed with a full violet velvet canopy, tied to each of the four bedposts with golden rope. It had a plethora of fat purple pillows, and a thick purple comforter. Bulma was beginning to think his favorite color might be purple, but the rest of his room did not reflect that. He had a nearly identical desk to hers, though his was pristine, not a speck of dust upon it, and it looked decades newer. In the northern corner of the room there was a large grey brick fireplace. There was no fire burning at the moment but she could tell it had been recently used. It was nearing fall now, and the nights were getting ever colder. A small part of her hoped Yamcha was making sure her siblings stayed warm with lots of blankets.

Beside the fireplace was a large mirror, so large in fact it was on the floor and nearly reached the ceiling in height. It was framed in extravagant gold detail, delicately carved vines with dozens of golden roses. Each leaf had visible veins that must have been painstakingly shaped by a real artist. It was magnificent. On the floor near the mirror and the fireplace was the biggest brown bear pelt she had ever seen, three or four people could lay upon it comfortably without touching. It looked so soft, her hands begged her to touch it. But she withheld those urges, and took a seat at his small four chair dining table. The centerpiece was an exotic Asian vase, filled with fresh Lavender blossoms.

Without saying a words the prince sat adjacent to the blue haired girl and gestured for her to pour herself some tea.

She obeyed by taking the warm teapot in her hands and filling the small teacup closest to her.

“Milk?” she questioned, figuring that when in Rome, she may as well spoil herself. She eyed the handsome prince with reserved interest. Lately when she had seen him about the court he had been dressing much fancier. In fact, ever since the announcement of his coronation, he had his small crown equipped every day. It suited him well, mostly covering up his large forehead and deep widow’s peak. Not that she minded those unique features, but it did well to accent them. Today he wore a dark doublet, almost coffee colored. It had golden embroideries running vertically from the base of his neck to the bottom of the shirt. His trousers were white, matching his gloves, and boots a deep and shiny black. His matching gold cloak was draped over one of the unoccupied chairs.

“No, I don’t usually take mine with milk, so they don’t include it when they bring the setup from the kitchens.” he explained.

“Well you should, there is nothing better.” Bulma replied, swirling the translucent brown liquid in her teacup.

Vegeta was beginning to get angry, she was wasting his time. She invited herself into his chambers, after two weeks of… nothing… and now she stalls by making small talk about tea! It was infuriating to say the least.

“And what is the information you wanted to discuss, woman?” he shouted, his voice and inflection fiery. Bulma was taken slightly aback by his sudden slide to extremes. He had avoided her for nearly two weeks, even though she had done absolutely nothing to deserve such treatment. Granted, she had been busy herself, but this sudden outburst was no way to treat her.

“Just what is your problem, Vegeta?” she retaliated, eyes wide and brow cinched.

“My problem?! What is your problem? I didn’t ask you here, you barged in, invading my private tea time, and you dance around telling me the information you promised in exchange! But I am the one with a problem?” his face began to flush with anger, and he slammed his gloved fist on the table with the end of his question.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” she plead, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. She liked him, genuinely, and maybe she loved him, so why did he distance himself from her?

He positioned himself closer to her, his face was inches from hers so that she could feel his hot breath. His face was twisted in a furious scowl that told her he wasn’t going to kiss her, but instead was attempting to intimidate her.

“Listen, whore, I want nothing to do with you, I only keep you here so you fulfil your duties and then I will throw you to the prisons like the scum that you are.” His words pierced her heart and brought the torrential fall of her tears to fruition. She gasped lightly at his attack, covering her mouth with her hand.

“You are but a low class harlot and your infatuation spell has broken. I will be the king, and there is no chance in hell you will ever be worthy of me.” He stood from the table, looking down upon her. He placed his hand at her neck, and grabbed the collar of her doublet. His fingers ripped right through the delicate lace as he gripped the edge and picked her up from her chair.

She let out a small yelp in surprise mostly, but also in pain of her collar tightening on her neck.

He jerked her body toward himself, before throwing her down on the floor. She landed on her hands and knees, and she choked out an involuntary sob. She flipped herself over to look at him, and to speak.

“The maiden Mai was serving breakfast the day Nappa was poisoned,” Bulma informed him, letting out a small cry afterward. “I think she is a prime suspect, although I have been unable to gather concrete evidence.” she breathed hard, a side effect of the shocked crying she had been doing.

“Useless,” he uttered low and angry. “She has worked for the regent for as long as I can remember and she would never harm his most high ranking general.”

It was then they both had a thought.

“Bardock…” Vegeta muttered under his breath.

The regent, Bulma thought at the exact same time.

“What motive would he have had…?” Bulma trailed, deep in thought.

“The treaty. Is it possible that Bardock is working with Frieza to ensure the downfall of our kingdom? Why else would he eliminate our most powerful and experienced general?” Vegeta pieced together small fragments of his theory, but he wasn’t fully convinced himself.

“He had no reaction when you announced Nappa’s death. However, he seemed to he surprised at the actual event of his death, because it didn’t match up with what he knew to be true, poison.” Bulma recalled from her first morning staying at the castle.

Silently the two young people stared at each other. They had a very solid suspect now, only a few doubts about it, but a dangerous suspect to be sure. And if indeed the idea that Frieza was behind the whole plot, puppeting the regent to gain control of the kingdom, the situation was far worse than either of them had ever imagined.

…

Broly was the son of a now disgraced ambassador, who was exiled for his crimes against the crown. When his father, Paragus, was exiled, the young boy stayed in the castle under the care of the regent. It was frowned upon by most of the other lords and ladies in the court, but Bardock didn’t believe that he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps. So he hired the boy, then ten years of age, to be the dungeon keeper. He was a large boy, all muscle and tall as a horse. He would have easily passed for eighteen back then. Now, at twenty, he was a literal giant. He towered over every man Bardock had ever seen. He’s cursed, they would say. He talked simply, and couldn’t hold a conversation too long. He’s slow, they would say. And sometimes, he would get angry at their whisperings, and lash out violently. He’s dangerous, they would say. So, to protect Broly and himself, he confined the boy to only the cells and the kitchens. Occasionally Broly would be able to go outside to the stables where he enjoyed the company of the horses and one raggedy barn cat, but only after the court had gone to sleep, and the moon was high in the sky. He didn’t mind his confinement, in fact he felt pride in his occupation, and did his best to make Bardock proud of him too.

On this evening Broly had been ordered to clean out one of the empty cells, and dress it with less moldy hay for a new prisoner. To properly punish the criminals, they slept on hay, which would often become moldy in the dark and moist dungeon. Especially on nights it rained, which had been happening rather often lately.

So Broly prepared the new cell. He was almost giddy that he would have a new mate to talk to, as the last few prisoners had recently been executed. It always made him sad that his friends would be taken away from him, but he knew it was necessary, even if he didn’t know why.

…

Bardock paced his chambers restlessly. He now knew the mysterious squire to be none other than the blue haired girl, but he could not determine why she would be disguised, as a male of all things. The kitchen matron Mai, had informed him of certain lewd acts between the prince and his friend, and Bardock was able to piece the rest together when he recalled the boy’s hair color. He remembered that day that she sat in Nappa’s chair. It was the only time Bardock had seen her in her nearly two weeks of stay, but he remembered it vividly because of her audacity to take such a seat.

Immediately following Mai’s accusation, Bardock had Broly prepare a cell. Although he didn’t plan to imprison her immediately. He needed concrete evidence to support the servant’s claim. And if it were true it had the potential to damage the Prince’s reputation or at the very least, his trust in Bardock. So he needed to play his cards very carefully, to ensure the best possible out come.

…

Bulma had convinced her chamber maid to allow her to bathe in solitude, though it took some time. Finally, when she had gone long enough, the maiden agreed to it, if only because the blue haired squire was beginning to really reek. The maiden wondered what kind of deformity he had to be cause for such self consciousness. But she got used to their agreement and said nothing of it to anyone.

But her bathing time needed to be quick, because she was vulnerable to discovery at any moment. In case of intrusion, she lavishly filled the tub with bubbles, so as to cover her breast and kept a towel within reach. But what she wasn’t prepared for was a intrusion that she didn’t mind. The prince.

He came in as she was nearing the end of her bath, scaring the daylights out of her. Luckily it was the prince, because she yelped like a little girl before ducking her head beneath the water. He promptly closed the door behind him, and turned away from her.

Bulma knew she could stay under there forever. Plan B; apologize profusely and submit to the punishment she had incurred for her crimes. But when she came up she saw him. He respectfully faced away, allowing her to privately finish.

“Oh, your majesty…” she said with a tilted head and furrowed eyebrows. She wasn’t expecting him, but it was a welcome surprise either way.

“I’ve come to release you.” he nearly whispered, and Bulma sensed a small amount of pain in his voice.

“What does that mean?” she questioned.

“It means I am done with you. And it isn’t safe for either of us, to have you here.”

She rose from the tub and wrapped the towel around her body. Her arms and most of her legs were bare, and dripping soapy water.

“Do you mean I can go home?”

“Yes! Stop asking so many questions.” he comanded in a fiery tone.

“Just one more; can I ever come back?”

There was silence as thick as the snowstorms in winter, and just as cold. Vegeta thought it was a trick. She was teasing him. But the sincerity in her voice said otherwise, and what reason would she have now to trick him? He just gave her everything she wanted. The best possible deal for a harlot and scoundrel like herself. He turned to face her, his first mistake that evening.

Before she knew it she was directly behind him, close enough to touch him with an outstretched arm. When he turned to face her, she thought about what to say. Nothing was probably the best thing, but instead she said his name. And that was her first mistake that evening. And one mistake led to another and another, until they were breathless in each others arms. He had taken his pure white gloves off and thrown them to the side. The better to grab me with, Bulma thought as she quivered in anticipation. Nothing covered their bodies now; save for the maroon blanket that once only covered her mattress.

There was nearly no space between their bodies now; and what space there was, was hot a humid like the peak of summer. They were connected, one being. They said no words, it was far to heated for such nonsense. The quiet rang in their ears, only interrupted by the occasional sigh or moan. Their lips locked, and held there, each too afraid to let the other go. She held him, her nails digging into the skin of his back, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Every inch of her body craved him, and could never satiate the hunger. He felt the same, one hand holding her thigh closer to his body, the other hand supporting himself.

They made love like it was the first and last time. Pressed for time, but trying to learn every crevasse of each other’s bodies. They both savored and rushed the act, the prospect of an intruder at any moment making them go as fast as possible.

She was close, on the edge of an explosion. She bucked beneath him, wanting desperately to be closer. Her voice betrayed her, letting out audible cries of passion as she got nearer and nearer to her end. He noticed her involuntary noises and clasped the thigh holding hand over her mouth. The action sent her over the edge. His control over her had excited her, when she herself had no control over her body.

When he felt her convulse beneath him, a sure sign of her orgasm, he relaxed, and came in sync with her.

“Vegeta! P-pull,” she began, but shuddered in ecstasy.

He thrust with a final grunt, releasing his seed deep inside her.

“Out…” she finished. Oh well. She lamented at his naivety, hoping this didn’t lead to her being with child.

He huffed, breathless, and moved to dismount her.

Then the door opened.

…

Though they had been caught, it was only Bulma’s chambermaid. Marron. She figured the squire had been bathing long enough, and it was time to dump the tub. She was shocked to find him in bed, clad in nothing but their natural skins, seemingly finishing their carnal sin. With the prince, of all people. At first she was flustered. And then she feared for her life.

Vegeta sprung from the bed as fast as lightning, and held the door closed with the maid inside.

“You’ve seen nothing here, peasant.” he growled lowly, lips pulled back like a threatening wolf. She dared not look at him, and took her chance to bow so lowly, she was almost laying on the ground. She stuffed her head down, between her knees, her small hands clasped together above her head. She groveled at his feet, crying uncontrollably. She didn’t want to anger the prince, he could have her killed!

“Vegeta!” called the familiar voice of the squire, though much softer and higher in pitch than usual. “She will be quiet, you have my word.” Bulma looked at the girl, and gave her a knowing look. Then she dropped the sheets from her breast, revealing herself as female. Marron became wide eyed as she looked up at the blue haired squire. She was at a loss for words, but it all began to make perfect sense.

“Of course,” the maiden said, piecing the puzzle together.

“I will not hesitate to kill you if this ever got out. Know that in two weeks time, I will be king, and this woman will be my bride.” he declared.

At first Bulma hadn’t heard his words. Or rather, she did, and her head chose not to hear them. And then her head did this silly thing where she played the words back again in slow motion.

“I- what?” she questioned, entirely taken by the surprise of this declaration. Was he asking her to marry him, or telling her? And… what would that be like? Would she see her family, would they live in the castle with her? The hooligans would tear it up. Or would the people even approve of a marriage between a lowborn like herself, and the King? All of these questions were contained silently in the single “what" she had vocalized. And the prince knew it because he too, had the same questions.

“Do you agree to this?” he was asking Marron if she agreed to stay silent, or die. But both women spoke.

“Yes,” they said in unison, though Bulma had a different idea of what his question meant.

“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake.

“Oh,” Vegeta said, acknowledging that she accepted his odd proposal.

The maiden said nothing, only cowered on the floor, wishing for a swift exit.

“Begone,” he said to Marron, opening the door slightly to allow her to leave.

“Yes, your majesty,” she said meekly, as she rose to her feet and exited the room. It was then Vegeta turned to Bulma and began laughing.

“What’s so funny?!” Bulma demanded, her face an angry scowl. The prince just continued to laugh as he found his trousers. “What?!” she demanded once again. Her face became red hot, like fiery oven.

“Nothing, its just,” he paused to cackle some more, “I only said that because she might think it a sin if we were laying together with no promise of marriage!” he bursted out with laughter at the end of his explanation. “B-but you thought,” he giggled, “you thought I was serious!”

Bulma felt a sharp stab in her heart. He wasn’t serious? Her heart nearly shattered. She felt her throat become thick and her eyes wet. How absolutely cruel, she lamented silently.

“Oh no,” he said with almost a slight joy in his voice. “You thought… you thought I was in love with you?” he said with an evil smirk. She couldn’t bare to look at him. She was so entirely embarrassed and heart broken, all she could do was keep her head down. It felt like she was floating as her head began to spin.

“Like I said before, I release you. Go home to your tribe of savages, and never come back.” He was actually disguising his goodbye with more hostility than he actually felt toward her. But the more ugly he was, the easier it would be for her to forget him. The truth was, he cherished the memory they had just made, and more than anything, he wished more than anything that she could stay. But it would never work, the kingdom would never accept her. And he would be going to war soon with the French, and he couldn’t bare to think what may come of her if they lost. Frieza would surely kill her, but not before torturing her. Afterall, his father had done that very same thing to the late empress. Or so Frieza thought…

The truth was that the late King Vegeta fell in love with the woman who was promised to Frieza. He staged her kidnapping, but she was more than willing to go, for she loved the king as well. And she married him, and bore him two sons before her death. But to Frieza, he believed the marriage to be against her will, and the procreation a product of rape.

Yes, it would be gravely dangerous to marry her, in more ways than one. So he hurt her, to let her go. And when she was fully clothed once again, she left.

…

Marron and Fasha were chatting in the kitchen when the blue haired squire zipped past them. She had a long dark cloak on, that seemed to purposefully conceal her face. She was holding her hand to her face, muffling her light cries.

“What’s with him?” Fasha poked, when Bull had exited the kitchens, headed toward the stables.

Marron felt she could trust her friend. They had known each other since they were very small children. Their mothers still worked in the kitchens together. Marron made the grave mistake of trusting her friend, and confiding the secret with her.

“Is that so,” Mai appeared behind the two girls, startling them.

“Oh, um yes, I was it with my own eyes Miss Mai…” Marron said meekly. “But the prince made me promise not to tell anyone, on pain of death. Mai’s eyebrows raised with intrigue.

“Then he shall not know,” Mai replied, her voice sly, with malicious intent. “Follow me.” she comanded of her subordinate. And Marron did.

They made their way to the Regent’s chambers, on the far east end of the castle. It was a long walk, and silent. Marron had the feeling that Mai was mad at her, but she couldn’t be sure.

When they arrived, the Regent was leaning on the wall outside of his chambers. It was odd, but Marron thought nothing of it.

“Is that so?” the Regent purred. His voice was deep and smooth, like a creamed cup of tea. Marron liked her tea with cream, and she really liked the regent’s voice. That and his body. Though he was probably twenty years older than her, she felt instantly attracted to him. It could never be, she lamented with an audible sigh. “I saw it with my own eyes, but the prince cannot know. Please, protect me.”

Marron’s big doe eyes looked up at the much taller than her man.

“Very well. No consequence will come to the prince. And we will hold her trial on the same day as his coronation, that way he will not know.” His guarantee comforted the young maiden.

Bardock motioned for one of his guards to come closer. “M'lord?” the armor clad knight asked.

“If Marron is to be believed, the blue haired girl should be on her way to through the forest to her home. She lives in the old hospital, though you probably won’t have to go that far. Just arrest her and take her directly to the cells, I will keep the prince away from that area so that he is none the wiser.”

“Yes sir!” the knight saluted, and made his way toward the other end of the castle.

Marron had a tiny pang of black, dirty, guilt in the pit of her stomach. She hoped to God that she did the right thing.

To be continued…

#tpthvegebulmayhem #week 4 #vegebul #vegeta #bulma #vegeta x bulma #dbz #au #fanfiction #fanfic #fairytale au #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball super

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wastelesscrafts · 3 years

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INDEX: my personal projects

Quick embroidery project

Leftover yarn shawls

Bra insert embroidery fix

Patched up leggings

T-shirt mend: hole to heart

Lace cover-up

Fixing up thigh holes in jeans

Taking in trousers

Upsizing a bra band

Embroidered cardigan

Quick headphones fix

Darning a sock

Charted knitted socks

Mending a belt loop

Letting out a pair of trousers

Pretty patella braces

1920's playsuit

DIY Silk camisole

Skirt waistband

Sock darning

Cardigan refashion

Star-darned sweater

Shortening leggings

DIY leather thimble

1920's bra

Laundry basket liner

Scarf to one hour dress

Silk shorts

Silk tank top refashion

Easy wrap pants

Handkerchief top

Lacy shorts

Ramie dress refashion

Crocheted D20 plushie

Crochet bralette

Bust darts in linen top

Scarf to cardigan

Crocheted top

Three variations on the one hour dress

#wasteless crafts #index #masterpost

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hermessale · 4 years

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Determining Within the Right Belt Material in your case

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mashroostore-blog · 4 years

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Evolution of Thawb

Thawb (Arabic- ثَوٌب ), as the linguists define it , is An ankle-length, long-sleeved, gown-like garment worn chiefly by men of the Arabian Peninsula. However, if you were to ask an avid Thawb wearer, he will tell you that the garment is much more than what the dictionaries encrypt.

Seldom do linguists know that the clothes one wears defines his personality, ambitions and even temperament!

Clothes have not always been as influential a 'tell' of our personalities as they are today. Where in early civilizations, the key purpose of clothing was to keep us warm and relatively dry, today, clothes have transformed from being a protective asset to a social statement.

Thawb, or as it is also known as Jubbah, Kandoura, Dishdasha, Kanzu and Qamis based on the demographics, has also gone through various transitional phases over the period of time thereby adapting and keeping up with the ever evolving purpose of donning clothes. Unlike most of the orthodox forms of clothing that faded away with constant modification of garments, Thawb has time and again refashioned itself to always continue being on of the most admired and accepted form of clothing. Thawb is an Arabic word which when translated verbatim means a 'garment', and that is exactly what it served as prior to the invention of functional buttons, fasteners and sewing machines. Either suspend on the shoulders or wrapped around the waist the served the purpose of providing insulation against extreme weather conditions and acting as a hygienic barrier for the skin. However, with the advancement in technology coupled with the spread of the primitive Thawb wearers in different parts of The Arabian Peninsula, Africa and Levant for imperialistic or commercial reasons came into existence the different styles, fabrics and stitching techniques of a Thawb.

Is wearing Thawb only for The Arabs?

Before answering this question it is highly imperative that we ask our selves what do we look for in a garment while buying it ?

We're sure comfort and good looks top the checklist, and if the before mentioned stands true, then Thawb as a form of dressing is sure to be an instant hit among shoppers across continents.

Although it is an undeniable fact that Thawb originated from The Arabian Peninsula and continues to be closely knitted with Arab culture, but its popularity has today superseded geographical prejudice. The Thawb today, might be a novel, but certainly is not an unknown garment in any continent of the world. Whether it be the more traditional types of Thawb which are predominantly worn by the elderly and the bedouins or the more contemporary style of Thawb preferred by the youth and the westerners, Thawb has become a common sight during festivals, celebrations, Friday prayers and also daily wear across the globe.

Is a Thawb suitable to be worn under all circumstances ?

A lot of popular notions arise in the minds of the first time Thawb wearers, Can I walk comfortably in a Thawb? Will I trip over?

Let us reply, there is no reason why you can't perform your daily chores wearing a Thawb, let alone walking swiftly, but also riding a motor-bike, gymming or playing your favorite outdoor sports. Owing to its expansive hem and light weight fabric which are peculiarities of any Thawb, it gives you the needed comfort and allows you to perform activities that most of the other garments would do.

The inference being, whether it be work or play there's a Thawb for every occasion.

What supplementaries are worn with a Thawb?

A Thawb is sometimes worn with a bisht, also known as a 'cloak'. It is a flowing outer garment worn over a Thawb. Men generally wear a 'sirwal' under the Thawb which is a cotton trouser held by a drawstring or an elastic at the waist. An Izaar is also worn under Thawb which is a waist wrap, it can be stitched or un-stitched from both ends. A number of head-gears are also worn to further emboss the appearance of The Thawb, from among them is a kufi, which is a skull cap, a ghutrah which is also known as shemagh which is a square shaped scarf and is usually made up of cotton and is worn as a head gear with a Thawb. An Iqal, which is a doubled black cord and is usually worn over the ghutrah to make sure it stays firm on the wearer's head. However, these supplementary garments differ from one place to the other in accordance with the culture, habitat and climatic conditions of the people.

Mashroo's vision

When we decided to register the first ever Indian brand dedicated to manufacturing and selling Thawb we knew we were sailing against the winds, however, a keenness do play the catalyst in further popularizing modest clothing and making it accessible in India and across the globe is what drove us to materialize our vision to life. From the very advent of Mashroo's journey it has made every effort to cater the needs of Thawb wearing millennials and to simultaneously stay truthful to the traditional audiences. From being the first ever brand to make a Thawb of Dry fit sweat absorbing fabric, to launching a series of never seen before designs of Tuxedo, Hooded and Denim Thawb, Mashroo has left no stone unturned in being the pioneer of many modest clothing trends. From here, we are determined to take our vision from strength to strength and see nothing below the sky as the limit.

#islamic clothing #thawb for men #online shopping #designer thawb

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