black socialites

reasons you should watch The Good Place

- summary: likable asshole Eleanor Shellstrop is accidentally put in the ‘good place’ of the afterlife and tries to become a better person.

-by the creator of parks & rec and brooklyn 99, so you know it’s going to be good

- you know what you think the show is going to do when you read the premise? nope. does not do that.

- solid diversity with little to no reliance on stereotypes; the asshole is female and the kind, anxious ethics teacher is a black man, the glamorous socialite is pakistani-english

- highly quotable. “it’s like, who died and left aristotle in charge of ethics?” “PLATO.” 

- discussions of morality and redemption, real meat behind the jokes

- plot is ROCK. SOLID. you think “how are they going to write their way out of this?” and they DO IT. i trust the writers

- very different from other shows on tv in premise and execution - if you want more good, innovative tv, support this show

- also the series has a lot of twists and turns so i would advise NOT looking it up on the internet but is still v enjoyable if you know them

- in conclusion pls watch this show


Jamaican actress and socialite Blanche Dunn photographed by Carl Van Vechten in Harlem, New York 1940-1941.

Blanche Dunn, born in 1911 she arrived in Harlem as a teenager and became a chorus girl in the Broadway musical Blackbirds Of 1930, she also had a small role in the film adaption of Eugene O’Niell’s play, The Emperor Jones in 1933 starring Paul Robeson. Blanche was the “It” girl of the Harlem Renaissance. She was a mainstay at Carl Van Vechten’s legendary parties, she was guaranteed a table at the exclusive Harlem speakeasy Hot Cha, she dined at the haute downtown spots, shopped in Paris, attended the horse races and as noted by the legendary Harlem Renaissance writer and painter Richard Bruce Nugent:

“at all the Broadway first nights. A party was not a party, a place not a place, without Blanche.”

In 1940 she moved to Whale Cay, purchased by Bahamian British oil Magnate and speed boat champion, Marion Barbara ‘Joe’ Carstairs , they partied with likes of Marlene Dietrich and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor before she moved back to Harlem. In 1953 she went on a nine month vacation that included Paris and the Riviera. She ultimately married and relocated to a villa in Capri.

Inktober Day 11!

Today I semi-remembered a story I read once in a Ripley’s Believe It or Not Book. It was about some socialite lady who used to wear a fucking lion around her shoulders to social events. I don’t really remember the details other than that, but I think the newly discovered use for lions was most likely the most important part anyhow…

Imagine Dean seeing you cleaned up and wearing something other than hunting clothes for the first time...

You nervously tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and took one last deep breath, smoothing your hands over the front of your dress and turning to look at the low cut, open back. You were about to go undercover for a case, a cursed object was up for sale at a charity benefit. This of course meant that you needed to fit in with the high brow socialites, so black tie attire was a must. Sam would be going along as your date, much more familiar with the discussion topics you figured would come up, and Dean was running the behind the scenes action.

You turned the door knob and pushed the door open, your heart beating a little faster than usual with nerves. You poked your head out and looked up the hallway towards the main room of the bunker. None of the boys were there. You stepped out a little hesitantly still, feeling strange wearing high heels…

Sudden footsteps behind you caused you to turn around, your cheeks burning already.

“Whoa. Y/N.” Dean was standing there, his eyes on your face. Only a moment before they had roved over the open back of your dress, taking in the curve of your spine and the edges of your shoulder blades and the curled tendrils delicately framing your neck. He cleared his throat. “You look–awesome.”

Your cheeks burned more brightly. You looked down at your dress, still feeling Dean’s eyes on you. “I think the last time I wore a formal dress was at my high school prom. My date ditched me halfway through to go drink gin with his friends in the school parking lot,” you said with a lilting laugh.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “What an idiot,” he said taking in your overall appearance again. “Right about now I’m thinking that I wish I knew how to talk high finance and investment banking just so I could have you on my arm. Even just for a little while."