Brienne of Tarth

Brienne of Tarth.

Brienne

Now here is a lady I can identify with. Prefers trousers to skirts, leather to velvet, and is happy to make her own way in the world without the aid or hinderance of men. But something happens to this magnificent lady when you change the wardrobe.

Pink dress

She looks uncomfortable, awkward,  a fish out of water. Somehow her short-haired androgyny stuffed into a pink velvet party frock seems wrong. And boy do I identify.

Because here is what I usually look like…

Tractor

….and here are my party frocks…

 blue           Purple

 I have had the opportunity to wear my dresses a good half-dozen times over the past year, and I still feel awkward  in them. They are just so damn pretty and cleavage revealing. And the crazy thing is that I have plans to make even prettier ones in the near future. Prettier, more historically accurate, I have a thing for the tiny pleats that hang in the back of some gowns.  I have turned into this strange creature that can spend a few hours in a fabric store, imagining how awesome a dress made out of this or a fichu made out of that would be.  I’ve started making some bonnets and day caps to camouflage my super short-cropped hair, and I purchased a pair of pink leather slippers to do regency dancing in.  I am not sure if I will ever feel completely at ease in this ultra feminine regency garb, but for some reason I am having (and attending) a ball in it.  And at the end of the ball when my carriage turns into a pumpkin and my gown turns into blue jeans I do breathe a little sigh of relief, as Brienne must do when she gets to climb back into her armor.

 

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