linen coats

The initial spike of terror had passed– Edward was still standing in the bathroom, his glass lay shattered on the ground and the water was still running. His toothbrush lay in the sink forgotten. The thing he had spotted in the mirror– the shadow of a dark uniform trenchcoat hanging on the inside of the linen closet door– still hung there innocently.

Edward sucked in a deep breath but his chest still felt tight, was still contracted with fear. He felt like he was floating outside his body, but both his feet felt like blocks of concrete, immovable and heavy. Cold sweat burst out across his skin and, despite the sweater and lounge pants, he started shivering uncontrollably as his weight became impossible to hold up and Ed sunk to the ground.

He tried to breathe again, but now it was like his chest had locked up entirely, and the fuzzy threads of panic began to weave in over the first jagged edges of fear, softening them down but somehow being so much worse than his initial fight-or-flight reaction.

“Edward?”

Roy’s voice was muffled as Edward stared at the tiled ground and broken glass. He was distantly aware that he had put his hands on his head, but couldn’t seem to remember doing it, nor could he really feel them.

Another sucked in breath and his chest felt like it was screaming in pain.

“Edward.”

Roy’s knees came into the darkened edges of Edward’s vision. It seemed like a black sheet had been tossed over him– cutting him off from the world while it went on around him and left him alone, left him with nothing but crawling fear and a slow sense of suffocation.

“Edward, you’re pulling your hair out. Come on, let go of your hair–”

Roy’s hands pulled his fingers away from his hair. Edward’s hearing still felt like pillows were pressed against his ears, but there was no mistaking that the low keening noise that left his mouth was his own.

“Edward, do you know where you are?”

Ed couldn’t speak, couldn’t swallow past the knot that had twisted up in his throat. He managed a trembling nod instead.

“That’s good. You’re having a panic attack, Edward,” Roy explained quietly, suddenly very close to his ear. “You’re hyperventilating right now. That’s why your chest hurts right now. You’re inhaling and forgetting to exhale. Why don’t you try that, alright? Close your eyes and focus on your breathing.”

Ed– obeyed. He closed his eyes, blotting out the world outside himself and focusing on the fire that was raging inside his lungs. He opened his mouth and tried to breathe again, but it was like the mechanics were broken, like the time the hydraulics in his automail had slipped and the whole thing had locked up and Winry had called him an idiot a million times while trying to fix it.

“It’s alright,” Roy said in his ear, and it was then that Edward realized he’d been whimpering something that sounded approximately like “I’m sorry” over and over again. “It’s okay. You’re okay. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Just keep trying.”

Edward nodded numbly, hacking in another shuddering breath as he fought the salt-sting of tears in his eyes. He was exhausted, too exhausted to fight against the black rot that was building up inside him, weakening him from the inside out and making him fall apart. He was fighting his way up an oil slick and losing, and–

“I know,” Roy was speaking in his ear again. “I know it’s hard. I know this feels like it’s never going to be over but it’ll pass, Edward. I promise you that you can get through this.”

Ed gasped again, trying and nodding and outright panting like a dog, drool sliding out of his mouth as he did. He tried to swallow again and failed, but Roy didn’t seem to mind the drool as he wiped Edward’s face with a wet dishrag. Warm, slightly damp hands suddenly skirted Ed’s sides, pressing in comfortingly as chills overtook him again and he began to shake.

“Focus on breathing, Edward,” Roy murmured, “That’s what you need to do. Try breathing through your nose. Go slow.”

Ed obeyed again. He closed his mouth, inhaling again before finally, finally exhaling. It felt like goddamn relief, like an overinflated balloon being released and left, stretched and worn out on the floor. The pressure in his chest eased and Edward did it again, breathing in sharply before exhaling. The pounding in his ears suddenly subsided, and it took Ed a second to realize just how close he had been to passing out entirely.

“Good,” Roy murmured, “Keep going. Keep on.”

Ed did so, focusing his attention away from the bleak hopelessness that threatened to drag him back into a web of panic. It was a struggle, and by the time his breathing was under control again, he felt like he’d been swimming upstream for hours. His muscles were burning from exertion and he’d fallen completely limp, sagging into Roy’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Roy was saying softly into his ear, and Edward realized that he was making small, half-broken sobbing sounds into the fabric of Roy’s shirt. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

It didn’t, it really didn’t, but Ed nodded anyway, suddenly feeling his hands for the first time in–

Well. Time felt a bit skewed. He felt like he’d been there for hours, but realistically Ed knew that wasn’t right, that Roy would have taken him to a hospital if he hadn’t been properly breathing for hours.

Edward opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh light of the bathroom. The glass pieces of his rinsing cup had been scattered across the floor. His hands were fisted in the front of Roy’s shirt. Edward managed a small start at the sight of the blood smears in the fabric, then looked up at Roy. The older man’s dark eyes watched him steadily, albeit with obvious worry.

“You put your hand down in the glass before I could stop you.”

Ed didn’t remember that. He couldn’t remember feeling anything, just hearing Roy’s voice and wallowing in the dark panic that had arisen inside him, and–

Ed raised his eyes up to the linen closet. The trench coat still hung innocently inside, one sleeve hanging out from where it had been shoved. Roy followed his gaze to the closet, narrowing his eyes at the darkness within.

“Was it the door?” he asked quietly, arms strengthening around Ed, “Edward, was it the Gate?”

Ed’s breath hitched. He’d thought the coat was– he had thought it was just something behind him, here in the safety of Roy’s house. The Gate hadn’t even been something he’d considered, but it could’ve– maybe it was–

“Breathe,” Roy suddenly instructed, and Edward realized he was started to hyperventilate again. “Come on, you’ve got this. Breathe.”

Ed forced himself to breathe through his nose against for a few moments, tearing his eyes away from the closet and back to Roy. Roy nodded at him, using one hand to smooth his bangs back from his damp face.

“Alright,” he said softly, “We can talk about the whys later. Let’s get you out of here.”

Roy stood and pulled Edward up by his elbows. His knees were like jelly, and he felt like a drunken toddler as Roy half-walked, half-carried him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom down the hall. Edward looked around the room, eyes widening at the discarded uniform on the dresser as he realized that he was in Roy’s bedroom. Roy, for his part, didn’t seem perturbed that he had invited Ed into his private space, instead seating Edward on the bed. He grabbed the slightly rumpled comforter and helped to drag it around Ed’s shoulders, and it was then that Edward realized just how damn cold he felt.

“It’s adrenaline,” Roy explained, sitting down beside Edward, “Why you’re feeling like this. You’re bottoming out after a rush of panic. You’ll be okay, just stay in the blanket.”

Ed worked his mouth for several long moments. He felt… battered, Broken. Like someone had hit him with a car and backed up and hit him again just for fun.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, the first time he felt coherent in forever. “I don’t– I broke–”

“It’s alright,” Roy said soothingly, “A cup can be replaced or fixed. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

                          ———  

Okay this went from a three paragraph blurb to an excerpt out of a full story. I’ll sit down and actually write a full story that actually makes sense I suppose, because this one meanders from Ed brushing his teeth at Roy’s house to not being accustomed to Roy’s bedroom? I literally wrote this in the post and made shit up along the way. Wanted to explore Edward not getting through his many traumas as effortlessly as the animes tend to portray and then it turned into this mess.

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Summer casual sportscoat. A soft constructed sportscoat with no canvas chestpiece, a perfect summer casual sportscoat. Made with blue linen.

Available in bespoke and Ready to Wear. See prices and sizing for information

Lyra Erso and the red of enlightenment

This post will discuss events of Rogue One; beware spoilers.

Lyra Erso, the wife of scientist Galen and mother to daughter Jyn in Rogue One, appears on screen for only a few minutes. Very little is known about her beyond roughly sketched out roles: mother, wife, geologist and cartographer (known only through ancillary media), rebel-sympathiser, believer. Jyn’s journey is driven by her relationship with her father - then later the adoptive father substitute of Saw Gerrera - with little acknowledgement of her mother despite Lyra’s desperate self-sacrifice in a vain attempt to protect her family. As a result, Lyra’s most lasting impression is of her faith and trust in the Force. This aspect of her character, and its influence, is expressed primarily through (surprise!) costume.

L: Lyra Erso from Rogue One: The Ultimate Visual Guide, this unseen costume is slightly different from the costume seen on Lah’mu. Her more severe hair paired with the coat of her overrobe and overskirt both suggest that this was a scene set earlier - possibly shortly after the Ersos fled the Empire - that was cut. C: Lyra Erso on Lah’mu as seen in Rogue One. (Unfortunately I have not been able to find a clear full-length shot.) R: Erso Family version 2a detail, Glyn Dillon. Here Lyra is shown with a red headscarf to match her sash and overskirt.

When we meet Lyra she is living with her family on Lah’mu, eking out a farm life as they hide from the Empire. Lyra’s clothes are rough and well-worn and generally unremarkable, except for their explicit mirroring of Jedi robes. The layering, though practical in this environment, evokes the layers of the typical Jedi robes, most obviously in the crossover of her tunic and skirts. The high-necked underskirt calls back to Ben Kenobi in A New Hope - a man surrendered to an alien environment, hiding from his history and true identity. Not entirely unlike Lyra and her family. With a kyber crystal necklace that she passes on to Jyn, it is unmistakeable that Lyra believes in the Force and follows some tradition akin to the Jedi Order even if she is not a Jedi herself. (In early drafts of the script, Lyra was a one-time Jedi which would have pushed the precise implication of this costume in a slightly different, more heartbreaking direction.)

In a wider level, there must be loads of people who just believe in the Jedi and believe in the Force and have been affected by it. If it’s a really ancient religion, as Obi-Wan Kenobi said, it’s got to exist in thousands or millions of people in the galaxy.
- Gareth Edwards [x]

Lyra’s colours are soft and earthy, not unlike those favoured by the Rebel Alliance, blending with the dark landscape. Except for the bright slash of red in her overskirt. The Ultimate Visual Guide describes this as a ‘red sash of enlightenment’. Worn over a heavy padded underskirt and trousers, this overskirt and sash are a statement rather than practical, and given that at one point it was layered under a darker overskirt it is a loud and emphatic statement. Given Lyra’s actions when Krennic comes to abduct her family, she is a woman tired of hiding. 

This over skirt is similar to the hakama worn by Japanese Shinto miko or shrine maidens: a pleated skirt overlapped and tied at the waist. Today miko perform typical temple duties, but at one point they performed shamanistic roles not unlike the Ancient Greek Sybils: entering trances to communicate with spirits of the dead, elements or land in order to learn, purify and share divine revelation. In a less literal sense, this could translate to Lyra as a geologist, a scientist that has learned to understand rocks and the land; to let the world speak to her, even if it is not directly through the Force. Faith and science combined to allow a greater understanding and an open mind.  A similar garment is worn by Chirrut Imwe, a Guardian of the Whills, though his overall costume appears to be more inspired by a fusion Chinese hanfu and Buddhist robes. 

L: A modern miko or shrine maiden wearing the red hakama. C: Chirrut & Baze concept art, Glyn Dillon. ‘Baze is like a combination of all your favourite elements of star wars characters. the partial armour, the boiler suit, the cool gun, the backpack. Gareth really responded well to the red, so we put some red in Chirrut as well.’- Dave Crossman. As principal heroes, Baze and Chirrut’s looks will have been in development long before Lyra’s. The presence of this red and its importance is something that may have been seeded through the production’s costumes from this starting point. R: Chirrut Imwe in Rogue One. Note the layered skirts and sash akin to Lyra’s.

Although it is not stated if Lyra is in anyway connected to the Whills, or if she follows some other related faith, the similarity in these garments implies that either she has had some association or it is a widely adopted colour. On Jedha we see a very great many pilgrims, priests and guardians wearing this same shade of red in a number of different garments.

Red is a colour that typically holds Dark Side connotations in Star Wars,  though has also appeared in association with ambiguous but self-serving Night Sisters. Here, however, it appears to be a positive expression of connection. In China and India red is a colour of good fortune. In Buddhism, a real world influence on the Jedi Order, red is considered to have been a colour that emanated from Buddha when he achieved enlightenment, and a colour of protection against evil, a belief shared by Shinto. Red being used by these faith-based Force religions shows a difference in approach - a multitude of approaches - to the Force, to understanding and engaging with the Force and the wider galaxy.

Top: Nightsister concept art from The Clone Wars Bottom: Silvannie Phest, ‘Part of a colony of Anomids that have recently converted to become disciples of the Whills,’ Star Wars Ultimate Visual Guide. One of many disciples and pilgrims of the Whills seen on Jedha.

We see Lyra Erso once more in Rogue One - briefly, fleetingly in Jyn’s dreams, shrouded in shadow when she doesn’t have her back to the camera (and Jyn, as this sequence is shot from Jyn’s perspective.) A clearer image of this costume appears in the Ultimate Visual Guide (above.) This costume appears to be a fascinating intersection of Republic and fledgling Imperial fashions, a blending of styles and regimes. This short scene - a memory, really - took place roughly two years after the fall of the Republic. In that time Palpatine, a terrifyingly savvy and aware politician and Sith, would have implemented changes and redirection in fashion and textiles industries with effects rippling out from Coruscant and the core planets. Just like all other industries, fashion is a tool to be utilised and maximised to ultimate efficiency and reward, but in this case to control and manipulate the populace.

Lyra Erso on Coruscant, approximately 2 years after the fall of the Republic. In an early concept painting of this sequence, Lyra was depicted wearing a sari.

In 1930 Mussolini stated, “Any power… is destined to fall before fashion. If fashion says skirts are short, you will not succeed in lengthening them, even with the guillotine.“ In both fascist Italy and Nazi Germany, boards were formed to promote and enforce national fashions, to propagate conformity to their respective ideals: fashion was recognised as a key lynchpin for rapid social and cultural change. In Germany this led to a promotion of traditional and subdued wear, a push for modesty away from the extravagance and vanities of the French, idealising history. In Italy, however, it was the avant garde and modern that was hailed in fashionable circles, architecture and fashion shifting hand in hand. There was a search to control, measure and literally shape the body to achieve the Italian ideal future by fusing science and fashion. Imports and influences from other countries were banned in order to elevate purely Italian lifestyles.

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TODAY–FIRST WEARING OF  NEW WOOL/SILK/LINEN LORO PIANA SPORT COAT… TOOTH OF THE HOUND, PEAK LAPELS,  PLEATED PATCH POCKETS BABY!           MS

Suit & waistcoat circa late 1770s/1780s. French. Court dress. Silk, silver thread, burgundy. Part of the exhibition ‘Déboutonner la mode’ (Unbutton fashion) at Paris’ decorative arts’ museum. The large silver buttons are entirely decorative.

This would be among the very blingiest of suits, even for late 18th century France.

This guy claims he read half of Das Kapital but says that it was “god awful nonsense” because it “ignores reality and focuses only on the end stage utopian ideal” like c’mon man - the first half of Das Kapital is literally a boring ass essay about use-value vs exchange-value and coats and linen like at least get at the real god awful nonsense smh

OMG IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE. THANK U PROFESSIONAL MAKE-UP COP  ❤

Return of the prodigal son. The fuck were you thinking running away into the night you dumbass? Hopefully you have learned your lesson. Stop the thousand-yard-stare immediately. 

-They paint the world full of shadows and tell their children to stay close to the light.. 

NOP.

-..because in the darkness there be dragons. But it isn’t true. In the darkness..

NOP.

-..there is freedom.

UGH. You know what else is in the darkness, Neo? Fucking starvation. Don’t you dare run away again before topping your career. After that, godspeed.

Yea thanks for the tip, professional make-up cop 2.0. We’ll know better than to jerk off the wolf next time.

Oh man.. this brings back so many memories </3 Truly your mother’s son. (I’m acting like Victoria has died, she hasn’t, I’m just feeling very emo about her becoming an elder).

LOL a romance sim artist, hot take there Gunther. Def preferable to that 20 lovers shit tho so good job!

Jojo Union: The Truth Is Out There.

-Good god, who do I have to fuck to get some interplanetary d around here?

Not Stephen Tinker if that’s what you’re thinking/hoping for.

-Ugh seriously, will those idiots ever abduct me?? I want the scholarship!

What can I tell you Jo, your chances are looking as good as that acne-Komei jaw combo you have going. Mystery of the non-abduction = solved.

DEAD. This weird ass relationship is killing me, I didn’t even know you could read a teen to sleep??

-Sooo, where were we? Oh yea. Let us take two commodities such as a coat and 10 yards of linen, and let the former be double the value of the latter, so that, if 10 yards of linen = W, the coat = 2W..

DANIEL STOP TRYING TO HYPNOTIZE JOJO INTO COMMUNISM. You can stand to learn something from Gunther, who conducts his political discussions in an open and straightforward manner!

-It’s like.. capitalism, man.. fucked up. 

-Toootally :D

Oh right, we brought this preppy church girl home from school! 

Gross, not only is she a face two (a mortal sin in this house) she also looks exactly how I imagine all those college girls that voted for Trump look. But if Gunther is to become the artistic slutbag he’s meant to be, we gotta start somewhere..

-I just love the way your eyebrows are way yellower than your hair.. And that hot-pink lipstick/blood red cardigan combo.. As an aspiring art school drop out, I can tell you really have an eye for color..

-Professional make-up cop 2.0 has got nothing on you babe!

Well that was..embarrassingly easy. Embarrassing for Daniel that is, whose well documented attempts at getting a girlfriend were like dragging nails on a fucking chalkboard. Equally if not more embarrassing is Jojo, who a) has not rolled a single romantic want b) has expressed interest in Stephen Tinker and David Ottomas c) can’t even get the ugly ass aliens to abduct him. Jfc.

But finally, after our two oldest proved to be massive flops, it looks like Vic’s sexual prowess has been inherited and not even the sky can limit those slutty genetics! See you never, Trumpie. We’re moving up in the world.

anonymous asked:

I just started reading kapital and all i can think abt is going to some kind of leftist rally is starting a chant of '20 yards of linen = 1 coat'

left unity is hating chapter 1, section 3, of volume 1 of capital