Esperanto Magazine is published by MONSU Caufield Inc. Views expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of MONSU Caufield Inc, the editorial panel, the publisher, or any other person associated with Esperanto.
Dayna Lim, Dora Chung, Emily Lederman, Gina Day, Imogen Davis, Janae Hunter, Jennifer Hoang, Jess Heng, Liv Brown, Nikole Bradbury, Parisa Sarmady, Rai Cade, Sama Harris, Sasha Clancy, Siena Thomas, Simonnette Labiran
Jennifer Chen
Espy Asks: One Sentence Book Review
Words by Contributors
Hello Espy! Welcome to My Bookshelf
Words by Ash Dowling & Illustration by Sasha Clancy
Love That's Good on Paper
Words by Angel Tully & Collage by Jess Heng
Ode to Gaia
Words by Liv Brown & Art by Imogen Davis
Taylor's Literary Department
Words by Anonymous & Painting by Janae Hunter
My Fairytale Day
Words & Photography by Dayna Lim
Little Women — A Love Letter to Womanhood
Words by Karen Grace Prince
A Case for Pink and Pastels
Words by Shabnam Sidhu & Art by Jennifer Hoang
XOXO
Words by Angel Tully & Illustration by Rai Cade
'The Princess Diaries'
Words by Natalia Godinez & Art by Siena Thomas The Not-So-Great-Gatsby: A Review
Words by Danielle Roche & Illustration by Sama Harris
Bookish: Readers of Melbourne
Photography by Emily Lederman
Confessions of a Portrait Thief
Words & Art by Nikole Bradbury
Little Songs
Words by Akira Kerr & Illustration by Simonnette Labiran
Oh, To Walk a Mile in Your Shoes
Words by Caleb Katsakis & Illustration by Gina Day
Piece of Mind
Words by Anonymous & Illustration by Parisa Samady
The Rise of the Trad Wife
Words by Akira Kerr & Illustration by Dora Chung
Editor’s Note
Poetry and fiction, perfect prose and fantasy, The Literary Edition is all about making the world around us feel beautiful. It’s in all of our nature as humans, from the beginning of time, to record stories and to become tellers of those stories. From Jane Austen’s 'Pride and Prejudice' to Stephenie Meyer's 'Twilight' series, we as a society unite in our shared desire to create new realities and enhance those that are already there.
The Literary Edition is a cosy and dreamy ode to the romantics out there. It’s a cup of tea by the fire on a rainy afternoon. It’s running through a field wearing a long floral dress. It’s where imagination shines.
Keep dreaming,
Espy Asks: One Sentence Book Review
'Big Magic' Elizabeth Gilbert "Her way of seeing the world is beautiful."
'Good Material' Dolly Alderton "Dolly's characters are real people, always."
'The Hunger Games' Suzanne Collins "It's got survival, it's got romance, it's got conflict, and good characters."
'Not Now Not Ever' — Julia Gillard "Familiar & mindblowing at the same time."
'Motherhood' Sheila Heti "I came to decide whether to have kids, and stayed to heal my mummy issues."
'Pride and Predjudice' Jane Austen "The original enemies to lovers."
'Sisters Under the Rising Sun' Heather Morris "I've never been more proud to be a woman"
'Love & Virtue' Diana Reid "Sally Rooney down under."
'Post-Traumatic' Chantal V. Johnson "A stunningly raw read."
'Spinners' Anthony McCarten
"Who knew a story about a girl getting impregnated by aliens could hit so close to home."
Hello Espy, Welcome to my Bookshelf
Words: Ash Dowling IG: @selahpoetry
My books are kept in a modest 3 × 3 cube bookshelf in my bedroom. I wish I could say it was organised so that each cube contained books of a particular genre, era, or even colour — but instead, they are all mixed up, like the surprising friendship groups that emerge in middle school. Take for example cube two: we have a dictionary — the nerd, ‘Frankenstein’ — the goth, a Cadel Evans biography — the athlete, and a “Wellness Journal” — the girl with a lifestyle Instagram page. But I tend to be more organised with words than with possessions. So let me take you on a written tour of my bookshelf, (somewhat) neatly organised by genre, tucked between dust-free subheadings (and a few tangents).
Fiction
Moving left to right, the first fiction book you will see is ‘The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas’ by John Boyne. This book was gifted to me for my eleventh birthday by a friend who attended my pyjama-themed party and thought it was very fitting to get me a book with ‘pyjamas’ in the title. It was much later when I finally read the book, that I learned the titular pyjamas were referring to the mandatory striped uniforms worn by the Jewish prisoners during the Holocaust. Naturally, this made the book seem slightly less appropriate.
A much lighter read — well, until you think more deeply about it — is‘Winnie the Pooh: Favourite Stories’ by A. A. Milne. I was given this book by my aunt years ago but it still continues to surprise me. It has been said that each main character represents a mental illness, an interpretation that brings out new layers of meaning from their whimsical tales.
Another whimsical tale that lends itself to allegorical analysis is ‘The Little Prince’ by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. On my shelf is the original French version, given to me as a parting gift by a friend I made while I was on exchange in England. One of the main themes of the book is the importance of relationships. This was a truth I was reminded of whilst on exchange where I had to build new friendships in a new country. To then be gifted this book by one of these friends was very special.
Illustration: Sasha Clancy IG: @sashaclancy
Autobiographies / biographies
I confess the shelves between genres in this written bookshelf tour are becoming blurred, as ‘The Little Prince’ is arguably a loose autobiography. I should have anticipated that some books would not easily fit into a box.
Although ‘Unbroken’ by Laura Hillenbrand is a pretty clearcut biography, the life of her subject, a World War 2 pilot named Louis Zamperini, is at times so unbelievable this book could be mistaken for fiction. I would recommend this biography even to those who do not typically gravitate towards non-fiction, as it is such a powerful story of resilience and redemption.
Poetry
Is poetry a genre? Poetry can be fictional, biographical, autobiographical… perhaps it is better defined as a form rather than a genre. I fear this written bookshelf has collapsed. Nowadays, poetry books are my most frequent purchase. As an aspiring poet, I seek to expand my horizons as well as support poets I encounter in the Instagram poetry community.
One such poet was Eleana Norton @eleana.poetry, whose first book, ‘Little Dancers’, was published last year. It is a raw and beautiful collection of poems inspired by tragedies, victories, friendships and faith. I’d like to finish my ill-fated bookshelf tour with an excerpt from one of Eleana’s poems:
Finally
I am finding language to tell my story Planted in the silence of untraveled mornings
Buried in the embrace of delicate nights
Over the years, books have helped me to find language to tell my story. Fictional or non-fictional, in poetry or prose, books can be powerful resources and teachers. I encourage you to consider your own bookshelves — however disorganised they may be — and reflect on what you have gained from the stories they hold.
Love That's Good on Paper
IG: @angel.tully
IG: @designby.jh
Words: Angel Tully
Collage: Jess Heng
I always dreamed about the man who would sweep me off my feet. The one who would stand outside my window serenading me with a stereo above his head. Or the one who would gaze longingly over the edge of his dock at the green light in the distance yearning for my love. I wanted Ryan Gosling to twirl me around and ask me to dance in the middle of the street and I wanted Heath Ledger to sing Frankie Valli’s ‘Can’t Take My Eyes off You’ to me on the bleachers with the school marching band. I wanted that fireworks-and-butterflies kind of love.
As an avid reader of romance novels, I couldn’t help but fall victim to the desire to be the object of such profound affection. The bar for men was set very high by the likes of Jane Austen, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Shakespeare, and more recently Nicholas Sparks and Stephenie Meyer (guilty pleasure level soppy, I know!). The kind of great love that exists within the pages of these authors’ novels made men seem to me like they’d do anything to win my heart, and that the fairy-tale scenarios I made up in my head would most certainly come true. I took solace in the fact that even when faced with challenges (the rising action and climax) in relationships, I – the protagonist – would always find my happily ever after (the denouement).
But alas… reality bites. Love isn’t quite like the way Miss Austen told me it would be. Or perhaps it’s just relationships that have changed since 1813. Thus, despite the art of courtship evolving over centuries, love, I’d like to think, is timeless. Mr Darcy puts aside both his pride and his prejudice to earn the love of Elizabeth Bennet, going to great lengths to protect her family just to show her that he cares. With actions that spoke louder than words, his determination to win her over revealed him to be a kind, loyal, authentic and driven individual, albeit initially coming off as quite stuck up.
“So how do I find a Mr Darcy in a sea of fuckboys?” you might ask. Well TBH I am not quite sure. Just as Mr Darcy is a romance icon, his arch nemesis Mr Wickham is a sleazebag and a gold digger. Thus, I don’t know if it’s fair to draw a line between the all-encompassing, old-time romance and the present day because fuckboys always have and always will exist. Unfortunately for us, we no longer have the etiquette of early 19th century society to stop men from ghosting us or making crude advances on the dance floor be it ballrooms or nightclubs.
However, I do believe that there are still some hidden gems out there practising the art of true romance.
We may not have fancy balls and promenades by the lake where gaps of awkward silence are filled with small talk about the weather, how one’s family is, and where we might ‘summer’ this year. But we do have far greater time and flexibility to truly fall in love with someone; to know who they really are inside and out, to be authentically ourselves with one another… before we get married, that is.
Traditional romance novels paint a picture of once-in-a-generation type of love where an initially hesitant woman is swept off her feet by a whole-heartedly deserving Prince Charming with one big romantic gesture. But what I have come to realise is that one big romantic gesture and being stripped of the ground beneath me is not love it’s infatuation. Luckily for our favourite characters, it’s only a story and we can simply pretend that this is what love looks like. However, in real life, I know better.
To me, love is the person who makes me feel safe. They’re the person who messages me to make sure I get home ok, or that will always offer to help me with chores even when they don’t want to do them either. Love is the person who listens to you blab on about your day and actually cares what you have to say. In fact, love is the person that you most want to tell about your mundane day in effervescent detail.
Love is the person who tells you they’re proud of you and makes you feel beautiful even on your worst days. I don’t need someone to sweep me off my feet, because if I weren’t down here on the ground, I’d miss all these little things that make love and relationships so special. I’m sure it was nice for Stella to have Stanley scream her name in longing through the empty night streets of New Orleans, but a thousand times over I’d pick the eternal flame than the candle that burns twice as bright for half as long. Love between the pages of books is grand, ethereal and swoon-worthy, but the beauty lies within a façade; I wouldn’t choose my love any other way than the present.
All of this aside, if Ryan Gosling did ask me to dance in the street with him one night, I would obviously oblige.
Words: Liv Brown
IG: @oliiviabrown
Art: Imogen Davis
IG: @imy_davis_
'Ode to Gaia'
My beloved Gaia, she stands tall and proud. With her cloak of green, a living shroud. Her hair, the trees, reaching up to the sky. Each one a strand, reaching out far and wide.
In the canopy above, her whispers weave melodies, Amongst the branches, she orchestrates harmonies. Her touch is gentle, her voice a murmur in the breeze. She paints the sky with vibrant hues, with colours that dance and tease.
As autumn arrives, Gaia begins to change. Her hair, once lush and green, begins to rearrange. She takes her scissors, the wind and rain to play the part And slowly, ever slowly, she begins to make her art.
With each snip and each cut, her leaves begin to fade. From green to gold, to orange, to crimson: a masquerade, In Gaia's leafy dance, as winds and rain play, Life's tapestry unfurls, her veils display.
Even in her autumnal gown, Gaia is a sight to behold. Her fiery leaves ablaze with colour, a story waiting to be told. She is a masterpiece of nature, a work of art so grand. A testament to the beauty that lies in every land.
As winter's embrace tightens, Gaia breathes her final sigh, Her branches bare, beneath the cold, starry sky. But amid the chill, where death's fingers tightly clasp, A miracle unfolds, a whisper in the frost's grasp.
In Gaia's performance, a tale unfolds, Of cycles and rhythms, ancient stories retold. Her seasons a symphony, each one a verse, In her dance of life and death, where all beings immerse.
On a stage of earth and sky, Gaia performs her endless play, A harmony of seasons, in her own unique display. She dances with the wind, choreographs the rain's soft fall, Nature's eternal performance, captivating one and all.
Taylor's Literary Department
Words: Anonymous Painting: Janae Hunter
IG: @artbyjanaehunter
Whether you want to admit it or not, Taylor Swift is one of the greatest songwriters of all time. She has such an acute awareness and understanding of human emotion, as she puts into words the feelings so many of us have had but can’t quite explain. She weaves surprising rhyming couplets, threads through the eyelets of literary fiction and stitches together beautiful phrases to create a tapestry of musical symphony for her listeners. She is a lyrical genius.
So without further ado, here is my ode to Taylor Swift’s poignant and heartfelt lyricism, where based on lyrics, I’ll break down my top three favourite Taylor Swift songs of all time.
3. Champagne Problems
I don’t know about you, but this song never fails to make my eyes well up with tears. That final chorus after the bridge ugh Taylor why do you do this to me? Over simple piano chords and trilling guitar, Taylor cultivates a narrative where her speaker is reflecting upon having rejected an engagement proposal from her partner. Reminiscent of the regret and shame felt by the speaker in ‘Back to December’ from her album ‘Speak Now’, the speaker is the one causing heartbreak, but this time the bitter end of the relationship is really no one’s fault.
For much of this song, Taylor sings from the second person, but rather than it being messaging of “you inflicted this pain on me” it is “you had this pain inflicted on you by me”. A very concrete way of this in Taylor’s work, is in the lyrics ‘I dropped your hand while dancing’ compared to the scene in her ‘All Too Well (10 minute Version)’ short film, where the protagonist’s partner drops her hand. Another significant pairing between these songs is having the ‘All Too Well’ protagonist endure “plaid shirt days”, compared to how the rejected lover in ‘Champagne Problems’ is “cured” by “flannel”. It can be seen here that these flannel shirts serve as a motif for
periods of heartbreak throughout Taylor’s discography. The heartfelt embrace of culpability is what makes this song devastating. She endures and accepts the criticism from “hometown sceptics” and has to resolve to hoping her ex-partner, in leaving her behind, will “find the real thing instead”.
In the concluding verse, the only things changed from the first appearance of the chorus in the song is the shift from the pronoun “I” to “she”, and the switching of one word in each line to reflect how the “she” won’t hurt him in the way the “I” did. The way the song is concluded follows the same narrative pattern typical of songs on her album ‘Fearless’ like ‘Love Story’ and 'White Horse', where a clear resolution is established at the end of the song. But what makes it so emotional to me, is that it strays from the ‘I will be ok, I will succeed’ trope of this storytelling style to ‘you will be ok, you will succeed’, where the protagonist can only wish her ex-partner happiness without her.
2. 'The Last Great American Dynasty'
‘The Last Great American Dynasty’ (TLGAD) is an upbeat song that features on ‘Folklore’, and is one of Taylor Swift’s only songs that depicts an overt biographical story of a historical figure. Rebekah Harkness was a well-known philanthropist and patron of the arts born in 1915. As Taylor sings in TLGAD, she and her second husband Bill Hale Harkness, the “heir to the Standard Oil name”, bought a house in Rhode Island.
The pair threw lavish parties with high-profile guests, where at one point Harkness ‘filled the pool with’ Dom Perignon. Like Taylor Swift, Rebekah Harkness drew media attention for both her outlandish and her completely reasonable behaviour. It’s from this that Taylor found a muse in Harkness, where she evidently finds joy in witnessing a woman who owns her wildness and indulges in her freedom even if it causes outrage to the extent of a damaged beyond repair reputation.
Much of this song is written in quotations, where the speaker is actually the townspeople around the Rhode Island house. This can be overtly reflected back to the way Taylor Swift’s life is recorded by what people say about her, rather than the things she is able to say about herself. The gossip and tabloidization of these two women mark their legacy. At the end of the song, Taylor pulls it all together by revealing that after being empty for 50 years, she had bought the house Harkness had once terrorised the town in. She echoes the same chorus that appears throughout the song, however uses the ‘I’ and drops the ‘they said’ which spins the narrative so that she sings this part of the story representing herself. It’s a powerful yet subtle move, as she is able to take control of the story. I love this song for the joy and excitement that comes through in telling Rebekah Harkness’ story, but also for the cheeky way Taylor has once again challenged the media’s representation of girls who just wanna have fun.
1. 'Peter'
Here it is folks, here is the track that I believe is Taylor Swift’s most phenomenal piece of lyrical work. One of the more low-profile tracks on her latest album ‘The Tortured Poet’s Department’, ‘Peter’ is a song from the perspective of Wendy in the world of Peter Pan. With more connections with the alternative title of the original play “The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up”, Taylor’s song depicts the yearning voice of Wendy as she gives up on dreaming Peter would keep the promise he made to her that “[he was] going to grow up, then [he was] going to come find [her]”.
I like to think that this song, while it uses the story and metaphor of Peter and Wendy, is actually from the perspective of Betty who has now given up on love with James. In 'Peter' we see Betty as a 20-something-year-old woman who has given up on having a serious relationship with James because of his seeming inability to grow up. In the Long Pond recording sessions, Taylor Swift talks about how she envisions Betty and James ending up together. But perhaps she’s reflecting that while this could have been a promise they made to each other, it didn’t eventuate because James didn’t mature.
I can imagine that Betty may have taken him back after his affair with Augusta, but after a short time, James wanted a “lost boys chapter”, or in other words, he ‘needed time to work on himself’. In ‘Peter’, Betty is in a period of resignation where she has accepted he is never coming back to her, but she is much more self-assured than the younger version of her we see in 'Cardigan'. She has a momentary lapse in courage in the beginning as she asks “Was it something I did?”, but throughout the song the blame is squarely placed on James. This is depicted as Taylor sings with emphasis on the fact that “the woman” compared to the boy who couldn’t grow up, “has turned out the light” on James, and the “shelf life of those fantasies” of being together “[have] expired”.
There is so much more I can say about this song. But if in the simple line “Peter losing Wendy” in ‘Cardigan’ Taylor was foreshadowing Betty’s eventual realisation that she can do better than James, well, our Miss Swift is obviously a lyrical genius.
My Fairytale Day
Words & Photography: Dayna Lim
IG: @eggsna
A Marvellous Morning
Far away from the land down under’s Melbourne and its gloomy days of late, sits a little red dot. The luscious land of Singapore with its everblooming and sprawling gardens, coupled with sweltering heat and obnoxious humidity, set the scene for my fairytale day.
Beginning my day filled with wonderful food and the treasured company of others and later with just myself, I walked to the train station with my parents. Even in the morning hour rush, I was blessed with a seat for the journey.
A quick ride and some strolling later, we’ve arrived at our first stop of the day – a hawker food centre. What’s a perfect day without a perfect breakfast? Piping hot congee with braised duck, chilli, green dough fritters shaped like butterflies, and soya milk… There’s not much a food lover could ask for after this.
A trip to that side of town isn’t complete without a visit to a physician for some persisting ailments. We shall not make mention of the hefty bill that came out of that… a little damper on the day but we continue on!
An Afternoon Cat-venture
I met my best friend and commenced a hunt for an unforgettable lunch. We marched into combat against the brilliantly scorching sun. Whilst the savoury portion of lunch was moderately satisfying, we rounded off the meal with the best treat on a hot day: crushed bits of ice topped with durian (the king of fruits, in my opinion) paste and ice cream. There’s truly nothing like it, and I’ll always be grateful to the inventor of ice crushers.
Racking our brains in the lull of the afternoon heat to decide what else we wanted to do was not an easy feat.
Her: “I’ve always wanted to go to a cat cafe… My boyfriend doesn’t like cats though.”
Me: “Ooh, there’s one across the street. Wanna go?”
Her: “OMG, good idea, let’s go!”
The moment we saw the cats, quiet as mice and lounging in a world solely theirs, everything slid into place. This surely had to be heaven on earth, didn't it? Oh my, we were right. Their content purrs, chasing more tender pats, the rundown of their adorable quirks from their carers, there was no better way to round off an enjoyable, albeit hectic, day.
“Oh my gosh, they’re so adorable! I want to be a cat in my next life, and wait for people to give me pats,” I exclaimed.
Admittedly, all the excitement of the day quickly caught up and we wound up craving a nap just like our feline buddies. While paradise was wonderful and made leaving it even harder, we could feel the day catching up with us. We parted ways, which led to me embarking on an entirely different adventure on a whim.
The Evergreen Evening
A quick train ride later, I found myself a tiny slice of green nestled amongst buildings in the suburbs. Traipsing along until I reached the path’s entrance, every step felt like I was one step closer to peace. Lo and behold, I was proven right. As I spotted some birds, I thought to myself, “Ah to be you, hopping around all cute and searching for food.” This brought to mind what were some particular joys or woes that being an animal might entail.
Feeling satisfied after working up a sweat, I decided to head over to my $500,000 vehicle with a personal driver
(I kid, it’s a bus). This was until I spotted a stretch of train tracks and another walking path. Being surrounded by all of that greenery after a few ridiculously draining days of overthinking and working did wonders.
All of the above was everything I needed, wanted, and deserved to make up my perfect fairytale day, hence concluding one for the books.
'Little Women' — A Love Letter to Girlhood
Words: Karen Grace Prince
IG: @karengracex
In my early teens, I had a phase where I’d pen letters to various female literary heroes whom I fantasised were my friends. I’d pour my heart out to characters who embodied qualities I admired: Jane Eyre’s passion, Hetty Feather’s resilience, Anne Shirley’s boundless imagination, and Tracy Beaker’s spunk. And of course, my ultimate heroine, Jo March whose unwavering literary ambition would eventually influence my own aspirations.
Since the 19th century, Louisa May Alcott’s literary masterpiece, ‘Little Women’, has captivated and inspired generations of readers and writers alike, including myself. ‘Little Women’ soon became one of my first forays into classical literature, after a mere impulsive purchase at a Scholastic book fair. In the loneliness of my childhood, I found solace in the exploits of this ragtag group of sisters Meg, Jo, Amy and Beth who dreamt of living loud and exciting lives beyond the scope of their purse strings.
My 12-year-old self was enamoured. Each March sister became a part of me, their essence seeping into the depths of my consciousness. Whenever I craved adventure beyond my reality, I would slip into their personas, weaving their tales into my own imagination. My utter and unwavering desperation to be a writer found a kindred spirit in Jo March, unflinching in her determination to find independence and earn praise from those she loved. I mirrored these ambitions down to the tee, squirrelling away in my room and scribbling silly little stories in my journal that to this day, I can’t bring myself to read. Terribly written yes but filled with the warmth and tenderness of childhood naivety, much like how the novel made me feel.
As I got older, I would discover new facets and layers to the March sisters that I could resonate with. Amy March, for instance, whom I had thoroughly despised (sorry, it’s always going to be Jo X Laurie), eventually grew on me. When she declared “Talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing”, I felt that in my bones, in the course of my veins, in the
very fibre of my being. Her desire to rise above mediocrity irrespective of her circumstances resonated with my entire life’s journey. Twin, where have you been?
And that is precisely what makes ‘Little Women’ such a timeless narrative a story that continues to breathe life centuries on. It captures the female dilemma and the struggle of having to leave behind childhood innocence to make space for womanhood. It skirts away from the decadence and glamour of period storytelling, and conveys the hope of living in the face of poverty and destitution. Alcott instilled agency in her characters, while also using her literary works as mouthpieces for feminism to break away from traditional gender roles. Greta Gerwig’s 2019 adaptation is a shining example of this, taking an already beloved piece of source material and dipping it in gold. The film employs the right amount of creative liberty and artistic freedom, while still underlining what it meant to grow up in a world that sought to confine and define them. I practically have Saoirse Ronan’s monologue on women memorised word-for-word.
Yet some claim ‘Little Women’ as a feminist contradiction building up the fire of female ambition and independence, only to be snuffed out by eventual marriage and domesticity (or maybe not so much in Beth’s case). I disagree. Jo’s literary ambitions stem from her desire to quell loneliness and keep her loved ones close. Alcott doesn’t prescribe a ‘correct’ path for her characters, but neither does she sugarcoat the struggles of making it without the safety net of money. Sure, marriage may have economic underpinnings, but the March sisters don’t exactly marry for convenience or for love they do it for companionship. They do so to preserve the nuclear family they’ve clung to all their lives, even if adulthood threatens to unravel these ties.
Alcott weaved her real life into these characters, reliving her childhood through fictional musings. And just like Alcott, I found comfort in her characters, filling my otherwise dreary and mundane youth with a sorority of sisters that existed outside the margins of those pages.
‘Little Women’ is a poignant tribute to the female experience, a fictional escape from the confines of reality – it is quintessential girlhood.
A Case for Pink & Pastels
Words: Shabnam Sidhu IG: @sidhushabnam_
Illustration: Jennifer Hoang IG: @jenniferhoangs
As I write this, I am wearing a pair of red patent leather Mary Janes, a pearl necklace and a pink ribbon in my hair. I am at my desk, my freshly painted red nails clicking away on my keyboard. Occasionally, I take a break to sip my strawberry matcha latte and my eyes wander over to the hot pink ‘cunt’ pin that I have carefully placed on top of my holy bible: Sofia Coppola’s ‘Archive’
Clearly, I have been influenced and am partial to the coquette aesthetic sweeping your feed. It’s the perfect opportunity to embrace a soft, romantic style into your everyday wardrobe and aesthetic, celebrating the nostalgia of girlhood.
Colloquially, the term coquette denotes a flirtatious woman. She lightheartedly flirts with men but in reality, has no genuine affection for them. Through her overtly feminine appeal coupled with her charm and wit, a coquette gets what she wants when she wants.
Today, the coquette aesthetic still emphasises a playful and flirtatious attitude but through dainty and delicate style elements. It is a mixture of ultra-romantic fashion pieces that incorporate bows, ribbons, ruffles, and lace amongst many others, showcasing a timeless feminine appeal.
I have three muses: Marie Antoinette, Sabrina Carpenter and Hello Kitty. They all have one thing in common: they have either pioneered or popularised the coquette aesthetic.
Marie Antoinette, the last Queen of France before the French Revolution, was a pioneer of the coquette aesthetic. As France’s first influencer, she was a trailblazer of high societal women's fashion trends, adorning herself in luxurious fabrics with intricate designs, opulent jewels, extravagant hairstyles and hats decorated with flowers and ribbons. She wore the most grandiose dresses in beautiful pastel shades as she marched up and down Versailles. While I admire her for her coquettish sense of style, it goes without saying that her extravagant lifestyle contributed to the economic hardship of many French citizens. Her elusiveness did eventually cost her her head. Nonetheless, Marie Antoinette was an 18th century woman who despite being an out-of-touch Queen, independently pursued her own tastes and preferences and was the epitome of what it meant to be coquettish. Her extravagantly feminine disposition and charisma promoted her interests as she created a lavish world of her own, one that was far removed from the political and social struggles of her people.
Fast forward to 2024, the coquette aesthetic has manifested as a way for women to embrace feminine style choices whilst still asserting a sense of agency in both the private and public spheres of their lives. Sabrina Carpenter has redefined what it means to be a woman who is unashamed of her femininity and sexuality. Her appearance and public persona are inherently coquette as she puts on a racy performance whilst donning
a mini dress and gogo boots singing songs that feature playful sexual innuendos. Yet, she has predominantly appealed to young women who desire to be fun and flirtatious in an unserious, girly-pop way. By taking control of her identity, Sabrina Carpenter has confirmed the power of the coquette aesthetic. You can be both ultra-girly and independent at the same time.
Thanks to women like Sabrina’s cheeky way of showing freedom of sexuality, I am inspired to wear my ‘I love sluts’ t-shirt out and about without feeling a sense of shame or judgement. Just like Olive in ‘Easy A’, it’s empowering to reclaim the narrative of derogatory terms used against women in an ironically humorous and coquettish manner. Women have always been degraded for their sexual experiences, so it’s time to be in charge of it instead. Wear that corset with the Renaissance painting on it and stick on a ‘slut’ pin if you’d like. It’s coquette to be feminine and romantic and feel sexually liberated at the same time. Hello Kitty, on the other hand, has a universal appeal. A trailblazer of the coquette style for the last 50 years, she has shown us that you’re never too old to wear a bow and a cute fit. As an embodiment of ‘cute culture’, Hello Kitty has proven to be an eternal symbol of girlhood appealing to both young girls and women alike. She has appealed to a range of cultural subgroups from punk feminists to kawaii enthusiasts, signifying an innocence and love for girlhood that will never be forgotten no matter who you choose to be. Just like Hello Kitty, I hope to one day be a 50-year-old fashion icon with the same youthful confidence I now have in my 20s.
Embracing coquette is to embrace being paradoxical. To be a coquette is to not only adorn yourself with pink ribbons and lace dresses but to also actively pursue your desires with confidence. By having the choice to exercise agency over your own image, the coquette aesthetic resists portraying women as passive objects of male desire. It prioritises autonomy and independence over your style choices as you’re no longer expected to conform to traditional notions of femininity solely for the approval of the male gaze.
Coquette is about embracing womanhood in all its glory. So, it’s ok to like pink, wear a bow and romanticise your life knowing you have the power to define your femininity.
XOXO
Words: Angel Tully
IG: @angel.tully
Illustration: Rai Cade
IG: @arcademade_
It is traditionally said that men are the hunters and women are the gatherers. As much as gender roles may have evolved since cave people times, I think it is safe to say that women have been gathering things for a long time. We didn't just gather nuts and berries, we gathered information, emotions, alliances and secrets. The latter, which when left uncorked, translates into the age-old tradition of storytelling in the most lavish and scandalous sense gossip.
Gossip was literally made for women.
In fact, the word itself is derived from a description of a woman who delights in idle talk or in today’s vocabulary who loves to yap.
I think it is quite fitting that sharing gossip has become known as ‘spilling the tea’, as once again it’s a testament to the long-standing origins of this sacred communication technique. Socialisation between women in regency Europe was very much scheduled around sharing a cup of tea. Now we’ll never know for sure if the conversations that went on between those very proper women are as spicy as they can be now when girls get their yap on, but I’d like to think their tea was being served equally as hot.
There is something so cathartic about gossip. Not the part about spreading malicious rumours or anything nasty, but rather the silly little things we share with our friends that spark joy, humour, relatability and sometimes even nostalgia. In fact, I’d argue that there is no better expression to see on your best friend’s face than when you tell them, "I have gossip!”. Or better yet, the jawdropped-to-the-floor face they make when you actually reveal the information.
Now as the saying goes, this is why we can’t have nice things. The world loves to shit on gossiping like it’s a bad thing, like it’s a low and frivolous form of communication. They look down on the act of gossiping as if the individuals who partake in it are shallow and manipulative, and we’re taught from a young age not to do it. But here’s the thing, if you tell me not to push the red button, obviously I want to push the red button. Literally nothing will get in the way of my love for a good gossip session.
Gossip is a natural part of femininity, and spoiler it is not all bad. Perhaps the TV show ‘Gossip Girl’ gave the practice a bad rap. But for the most part, gossip is just what happens when friends catch up on current events as I like to see it. I think it is time we start to embrace the unique form of communication that is gossip, that dispenses information in fun and exciting bite-sized packages with just the right amount of enthusiasm.
Women have been the natural-born yappers since the beginning of time. Through centuries, wars, continents and social classes, women have bonded and communicated through gossiping. So what makes the gossip haters think that a little bit of negativity shrouding the concept of gossip would stop us?
We will keep yapping, we will keep spilling the tea, we will keep dishing the dirt and most of all, we will keep up the longest-standing form of female communication: gossip.
Long Live 'The Princess Diaries'
Words: Natalia Godinez IG: @natti.gi
Art: Siena Thomas IG: @designedbysiena
Finding a definitive winner in the debate over whether movies are superior to their book counterparts can be challenging. I usually say the book is better, but after days of consideration and a few contestants, 'The Princess Diaries' is the only exception. If you weren't aware of the book's existence, it's likely because the movie outshone it. While the book series by Meg Cabot holds a special place in many hearts, the 2001 movie adaptation transcends its source material in several compelling ways.
The setting is one of the most immediate and striking disparities between the movie adaptation and the book. Departing from the usual New York setting in the book and many other movies, chick flick director Garry Marshall took a bold step by situating the movie in San Francisco. The picturesque landscapes of the Californian city offer a refreshing backdrop, showcasing its landmarks such as the Golden Gate Bridge, the Painted Ladies, and its iconic hills.
Mia's dad is a regular presence in the book series but the movie adaptation streamlines the narrative into a hero's journey in the classic Disney trauma style. His absence in the movie serves as a catalyst for Mia's emotional journey. This journey, as for anyone, revolves around Mia discovering herself and where she belongs in the world. At its heart, 'The Princess Diaries' is a coming-of-age movie; romance is just a little spice for the plot. The themes that epitomise this genre, self-acceptance, personal growth and self-integrity are echoes of our collective journey as human beings.
In the book and in Anne Hathaway's portrayal, Mia is a relatable and endearing protagonist, navigating the challenges of adolescence and unexpected royal responsibilities with awkwardness, wit and charm. Contrary to its book counterpart, Julie Andrews' regal presence as Queen Clarisse Renaldi lends the movie an air of sophistication and nostalgia. While the characters in the book can't stand each other, the movie's sweet and complex relationship allows us to ponder on the bittersweetness of family bonds.
However, the movie could have been even more compelling had it preserved its original political discourse. Mia and her best friend Lilly maintain their environmental consciousness, yet the movie tones down certain facets of their political opinions. Which makes sense, considering it is a Disney Channel movie. After all, they wouldn't want to risk turning it into a device to push political propaganda.
The movie also brings to life the opulence and grandeur of royalty in a way that words on a page cannot replicate. Mia's Y2K x Modern European royalty outfits live rent-free in my head. Her style is unforgettable, from her signature Dr Martens and bucket hat to her breathtaking floral ballgown. Even her rock-climbing outfit slays! Costume designer Gary Jones served us looks that feel timeless and magical.
Like many great movies that achieve cult status, 'The Princess Diaries' boasts a memorable soundtrack. You can tell Whitney Houston co-produced the movie because only a musical mastermind could have curated such a heart-felt soundtrack as this. Whether it's the infectious energy of tracks like 'Miracles Happen' by Myra or the emotional resonance of 'A Summer Song' by Chad & Jeremy, the soundtrack leaves an indelible mark on audiences long after the credits stop rolling.
While 'The Princess Diaries' book series is undoubtedly the blueprint, its cinematic adaptation takes the crown. The movie will always make me wish my long-lost grandmother whisked me away to my rightful place on a throne too. With its pleasing aesthetics, iconic performances, streamlined narrative and emotional resonance, the movie in its own right has become a timeless classic.
As Mia Thermopolis herself would surely agree, sometimes the key is to allow yourself to change for the better… whether it’s from ordinary girl to Princess of Genovia, or from a great book series to an unforgettable movie adaptation…
The Not-So-Great-Gatsby: A Review
Words: Danielle Roche
IG: @dani.roche_
All the elitist drama typical of ‘Gossip Girl’ in old-timey language. The blinding obsession featured in ‘Saltburn’ with the grotesque dial set to zero. A narrator is as involved as a reality TV audience member.
If these traits sound appealing to you, run! Don’t walk to your nearest independently owned, endearingly kitsch local bookshop (we’re not Amazon-supporting corrupt capitalists, *cough* Gatsby *cough*) to get your hands on a copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1925 industry-plant, ‘The Great Gatsby’.
This novel follows the unravelling of its titular character, Jay Gatsby, who is led astray by rose-tinted glasses so opaque it’s a wonder he doesn’t bump into his RollsRoyce thrice a chapter! Like many of his fellow contemporary cisgendered, White male protagonists of 20th century fiction, Gatsby has a one-track mind geared towards a goal that only benefits himself. The difference between this conceited wanna-be and the Winston Smiths (‘1984’), Willy Lomans (‘Death of a Salesman’), and Brick Pollitts (‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’) of his time is that they actually had something material at stake.
Art: Sama Harris
IG: @samaharris
Most people with enough disposable income to own a juicer that spits out the nectar of four hundred oranges an hour and a butler to operate it might be satisfied with their status. Maybe his vitamin C levels were out of whack, but Gatsby was no individual to be satiated by endless wealth or unbridled access to cocktail fruits. Instead, day in, day out, this man dreams of… a green lamp. A green lamp symbolic of an ex-girlfriend, who symbolised a bygone era, that symbolised a lost identity, that symbolised… money, basically.
Fitzgerald’s (concededly) skillful and poetically evocative language materialises the same rose-tinted glasses upon the eyes of the reader. Though through more sobering lenses, such as the likes of T.J. Eckleburg’s, there is only so far romanticism can carry a tale of rich elites. Especially those who languish in their wealth so obliviously as to be driven to murder, madness and forty repetitions of “Old Sport”.
Bookish:
Readers of Melbourne
Emily Lederman
Photography:
Confessions of a Portrait Thief
Words & Art: Nikole Bradbury IG: @nikoledesigns_
Dearest gentle reader,
It seems as though this author has found herself compelled to share the most scandalous of news. As the sunshine of summertide subsides and a brisk autumn sets upon us, let us not forget the shining artefacts that adorn the ornate walls of the Barrington manor. Now, it is no secret that every family knows of the Barrington house. It is only the wealthiest and most esteemed house, producing the finest and swell of broods.
It appears Lady Barrington’s largest, most prized possession, a portrait of herself, was purloined during the ungodly hours of last Tuesday. A rare piece by Frank Plume only a few can afford to commission. Now, I must declare, Lady Barrington is incredibly bizarre to have a portrait of only herself hanging on the walls of her manor that is far in resemblance to what she truly appears like. Perhaps it was inevitable for our vain victim the consequence of untruth and deception.
There has been fresh talk this morning, a quiet buzz if you will, along our most attended promenade, of speculations on who our cunning and sneaky thief may be. Was it a coordinated assembly of thieves or a solitary undertaking?
Could it be the Barrington’s most loyal governess who had recently eloped with a zany lover? Perhaps she was in need of finances to support a most contentious union.
However, the most radical speculation of them all requires a close inspection of a rather scholarly diamond. A top student at the College of the Arts, who happens to be readying herself for her up-and-coming gallery exhibit. Although some weeks away from her debut exhibit, her sketches and artwork are quite indistinguishable from Lady Barrington’s portrait. It could only be with close inspection of our stolen artefact that one could reproduce the colours and strokes of a Plume piece. Is this a case of imitation of Frank Plume, only the best portrait artist in all the town?
Well, this is not the place of fine art critique but rather the most succulent of scandals. This academic diamond, a recipient of countless distinctions and accolades, is truly not as pristine as she appears on the outside. Hailing from a rather infamous lineage famed for roguish activities and plentiful debt, could collusion be the answer?
At what lengths would an amiable student go to maintain a reputation? Thievery, deceit, lies – where does it end? Won’t we all be incredibly vexed if it were to be true? Or perhaps the opposite, pleased? The brighter you shine, the faster you burn.
But it is only the beginning, like a mere minute opening a long and anticipated ball. The answer to this mystery is hiding somewhere, and I shall soon uncover it.
Yours truly, Lady
Wattledown
Little Songs
Words: Akira Kerr
IG: @akira.kerr
Illustration: Simonette Labrain
IG: @omisim0
When my siblings and I were kids, our mum used to sing a lullaby to us every night before we went to sleep. We would have our nightly glass of milk, brush our teeth, faff around for a bit avoiding bedtime (little Akira didn’t understand just how great sleep was yet), then hop into our beds and wait. My mum would come in, sit down next to us and ask in Japanese, “What would you like me to sing today?”.
This ritual in our family is a memory I’m so fond of, and it wasn’t until I messaged my siblings the other day that I realised just how huge my mum’s repertoire was (Dad would sometimes sing us ‘There Will Be No Divorce’ by the Mountain Goats I still remember every word). As I told my brother and sister about my idea for this article, it was fun to see what songs I had such clear memories of compared to the ones they did. So, here I would like to share with everyone which cute little Japanese songs the Shimote-Kerr siblings loved when we were little and have a special connection to even now.
Sachi – The Crow Song
My brother liked a song called 七つの子 which translates to “seven children”. The story in this song is about a crow that cries in the mountains. She has seven little chicks and exclaims over how cute her seven babies are with their big round eyes, which seems fitting for the amount of love we felt from our mum when she sang these songs to us. Sachi says that he remembers Mum singing this song to him when he was feeling sad or sick. Now, like a warm bowl of miso soup, it serves as a comfort song, and it still pops into his head every so often.
Akira – The Grandfather Clock Song
The song I remember the most, 大きな古時計 is quite literally translated to “big grandfather clock”. In this song, the narrator sings that on the morning their grandfather was
born, his family bought a grandfather clock. The clock ticked every day without rest alongside the grandfather. But after 100 years, the grandfather clock stopped ticking, and so did the grandfather. I always remembered this being a pretty sad story, but I really liked the melody and bittersweetness of it. According to my mum, I always liked the ‘pretty, serene tunes’ more than the ‘fun’ ones, which is pretty on par for a ‘Folklore’ stan like me.
Lin – The “Doraemon” Theme song
I’m sure there are a few readers who will be familiar with Doraemon, the blue earless cat from the future. The theme song to the anime is a very cute and cheery tune about how Doraemon can help you achieve your dreams and solve your problems with the endless gadgets in his pocket. He’s basically the Genie of Japan. Mum used to sing the song to Lin when she was little, then recently when she decided to actually watch the show, she says she experienced a rush of emotional nostalgia hearing the theme song again.
Even though this was the song Lin had the strongest memories of, she says that the songs mum sang to us in general are a pretty big feature of her life. So many of the songs are about everyday mundane things like crows, acorns, lunchboxes or snails, and whenever she sees these things, she’ll think of the melodies that go along with them. This is one of the things I really love about Japanese culture; this ability to see whimsicalness and joy in simplicity. There is just such a slowness, and an eye for capturing beauty in the things we walk past every day that makes everything feel a little more vibrant. So, when life gets a little boring, maybe you can make a song about the little things in life too.
Oh, To Walk a Mile in Your Shoes
Words: Caleb Katsis
IG: @halevacci
Illustration: Gina Day
IG: @gkhdesign_
If I could trade places with a character from any novel, it would have to be Sal Paradise from Jack Kerouac’s novel ‘On the Road’. I think my mind gravitated to this character because he’s relatable. He is a guy in his twenties just out of university, a very sensitive person who appreciates the various beauties in life and is living his dreams as a writer. Although I resonate with so much of his character, I feel that to some extent anybody can connect with Sal. He makes mistakes, feels anxiety, anger, depression, and other difficult emotions that everyone else experiences. This is what I really admire about Sal, how he balances personal struggles while wholeheartedly experiencing incredible adventures.
He is the character whose shoes I’d love to walk a mile in because his life is the definition of ‘living’. He surrenders himself entirely to the present moment and welcomes whatever may arise throughout the journey he wants to be on most in the world. The experiences he has in ‘On the Road’ are one of the main reasons why I’d love to trade places with him. He travels across America meeting so many different and interesting people, living in various places, working different jobs, going to crazy parties and jazz clubs, seeing spectacular forces of nature, developing amazing relationships, and so much more.
However, many factors in our lives often hinder us from experiencing such freedoms. As a uni student, it’s easy to get swept up in commitments and lose yourself even if it’s to something you really enjoy. I often catch myself prioritising my never-ending checklist of tasks over actually enjoying my life. I fill my weeks with long shifts at work or spend my days studying and completing assignments without taking a break. This is another reason why I relate to Sal. Like him, so many things are holding me back, but that unstoppable drive and desire to experience life’s priceless beauties always breaks through. Somehow amidst the tempest of obligations, I still accomplish things like my writing, travelling, painting, and other personal joys. Sal gives me the hope that I can make it through whatever challenges in my busy life and continue to appreciate the world.
As much as I’d love to trade places with Sal, I can’t. But his story is a great reminder for me to remember why he inspires me.
Romanticize your life a little
Piece of Mind
Illustration: Parisa Samady
IG: @sarmadystudio.ai
Words: Anonymous
Our relationship first began back in lockdown when I felt I had exhausted all my other options of entertainment and satisfaction. At first, I only dabbled occasionally, half out of boredom and half out of intrigue. But the more time I spent, the more I fell in love, until eventually… I was absolutely hooked.
That is the story of how I discovered my love for puzzles.
In a world where it is tough to catch a break from technology and social media, I set myself a goal of picking up some more ‘non-technology-related hobbies’, one of which included completing puzzles. At first, I didn’t think I would actually love puzzles as much as I turned out to, I just did it to satiate boredom and because it seemed to be up there on the list of primitive activities to do at home when you have exhausted every other option. I realised that even though building a puzzle is nowhere near as fast-paced or flashy as scrolling on my phone, it is just as addictive and relaxing for me when I need some downtime and am sick of everything available on Netflix.
I know I am not really the target demographic of puzzles, and that perhaps I’d have more chance of relatability in the senior’s department. I have a total of one friend who also enjoys puzzles, so I can’t really say that this new hobby has brought me into a community it’s more like a puzzle partnership. Luckily for me, I am a bit of a control hogger when it comes to arranging the pieces. So perhaps it doesn’t matter so much that it’s usually a solo expedition.
Perhaps puzzles aren’t your cup of tea, or maybe you’re thinking of giving them a try now. Either way, it is a reminder to step back from the chaos of our lives once in a while to slow down and practise some non-technology-related hobbies. We are always so caught up with the little things. But when you take a second to breathe and look at the bigger picture, that is when all the pieces in life fall into place.
Reading and the Attention Economy
Words: Anne Bui IG: @heyimlanah
I stare at my own to-be-read pile, tucked away in the corner of my cozy room, pondering over when I started losing interest in reading new books. Have I truly lost interest in books? Or have books simply not been appealing enough to catch my attention? I have no clue…
For many decades, storytelling has not merely been about writing letters on paper. There always have been and always will be storytellers. For centuries, storytellers have been determined to have their stories told, whether on cave walls, parchment paper or in video shorts. In all of its many forms, a mesmerising story has always been about one thing.
Their most prioritised job is to grab their readers' attention. Entertain. And then educate. It likely means that if a book does not hold the attention of readers, it will be dropped and never picked up again.
The competition for a reader’s attention has become even more intense as we’ve entered the modern era in which reading-oriented sub-communities on social media like BookTok or Bookstagram are thriving. Authors understand that themes or motifs favoured by the audience tend to boost sales. As a result, they try to cram as many popular themes as they can into their work, writing books specifically around their fans’ favourite tropes. However, this limits the diversity of book genres and undermines the audience’s tastes. I have to admit, scrolling through the ‘most viewed’ section of BookTok can sometimes feel like wading through a monotonous story of ‘enemies to lovers’ or ‘fake dating’ which are pushed on trend exclusively.
To keep up with the fast-paced plot trends, some authors have no choice but to overuse firework moments in the plot and drag stories out over several instalments to pique consumer interest. Many readers, including myself, hardly feel satisfied being left high and dry at the end of a literary journey when there is no closure or proper ending. For example the cliff-hanger ending of Suzanne Collins’ ‘Catching Fire’.
Illustration:
Evelyn Johnson IG: @evj.design
Not to mention how annoying it is when publishers continue rehashing the same storylines over and over to satiate the masses.
Whether we’d like to admit it or not, social media has influenced our tastes and how we consume content in general. Being spoon-fed an enormous amount of online information daily within tiny snippets of time, our attention span has become shorter. We want to keep scrolling and keep moving faster, constantly craving something newer and more exciting to capture our focus momentarily. Faced with endless videos and posts on social media about book recommendations, it’s no surprise that many of us are dealing with (FOMOOB), aka fear of missing out on books.
Confession time I have been influenced by FOMOOB. I keep buying more books and my to-be-read list is piling up on my phone. Many times I have vowed to myself that no matter how much I hate a book I buy, I have to finish reading it, but alas, they are often left half-read. The idea of not finishing a book leaves me feeling guilty but apparently, not guilty enough to finish it. This, of course, hasn’t stopped me from buying more books.
Despite all of this, I’m not mourning my unfortunate fate of living in the BookTok era.
So, back to the first question about my to-be-read pile: Have I lost interest in reading?
I can hardly tell.
But to me, reading, unlike listening to music or streaming a Netflix series, is all about the immersive experience in which you create images in your mind from the words taken off the page. So long as we are conscious about why we choose to read, whether it be to seek joy or gain knowledge, we can hold our imagined worlds through whatever passing trends go by. The attention economy will always be changing, but one thing is for sure, we will always love a good story.
The Rise of the Trad Wife
Words: Akira Kerr IG: @akirakerr
Illustration: Dora Chung IG: @dora_and_design
She is rewarded with a light peck on the cheek for straightening her husband’s tie as he steps out for another day at the office. She softly closes the door behind her, happily pondering upon what wondrous tasks lay ahead of her today. She gazes wistfully at her children playing on the hearth, her daughter combing her doll Betty’s pristine polyester locks, and her son puttering around with a Matchbox miniature car in hand. She looks in the mirror hung next to the front door and smooths the non-existent creases out of her floral square-necked, A-line dress.
Then, she pulls out of her apron pocket an iPhone 15.
Haha, got you! No, I am not describing a 1950s housewife who dutifully awaits her husband’s return, as she enjoys the home she had no power to buy, and no power to sell. This is a modern member of the tradwife movement.
For those whose social media algorithm gods have spared them of content from this mind-numbing phenomenon, a tradwife, short for ‘traditional wife’ can be characterised by a reversion to practices typical of 1950s housewives. Think, a typical white woman with modest but flattering knee-length dresses, pristine blowout curled hair and freshly done makeup, latex cleaning gloves glued to her pretty little hands, and dinner on the table by five pm sharp. She bakes her own bread, grows her own vegetables, and firmly believes in a clear division of labour in the family unit.
Like so many movements that have emerged on social media, there is a broad spectrum that exists in the tradwife subculture.
On one side, naturally, there is a group of women who truly and ideologically believe that a woman’s place is in the home. Feminism is a hoax created by women who are butt-hurt that men don’t like their hairy armpits and that they can’t hold onto a man for more than a week.
These tradwives are often referred to as a soft, palatable face for two essential pillars: patriarchy and white supremacy. These are the women who between wiping the kitchen counter and ignoring their lack of financial autonomy, echo a familiar orange-faced man’s proclamations that America needs to be made great again. They dream of gaining back a past that institutionally enforced a lack of freedom for women, where the husband was the only recognised head of the household. Where a woman’s god-given position in society lies beneath men (or under a man), as their body’s sole purpose is to give birth to and raise their husband’s children.
A claim that is made in this subsect of the tradwife culture is that feminism is failing women. This is honestly devastating. I feel sad for these women that feel feminism, the movement designed to acquire freedom and equity for them, is not serving them. Whether they have attempted to enter the workforce, or finished high school and jumped straight into a marriage, these Tradwives have been failed not by feminism, but by the innocuous weed of patriarchy and male domination. It is a deep-seated disappointment and deprivation of opportunity they have suffered that brings them to this conclusion. The only way they can be successful now is by putting their autonomy in the hands of men who
don’t look at them as people. The turning of women against feminism is the most threatening weapon patriarchy wields.
But within this movement, I dare to say there might be hope. On the other end of the tradwife spectrum, are the performative descendents of cottage core prairie girls. These are the Nara Smiths, the Emily Marikos, and the Estee C Williams’.
Now, I must acknowledge that both ends have one thing in common: a romanticism and glorification of a past never lived. These women will never know what 1950s housewives endured, yet they continue to cherry-pick the past to create a life that serves them.
But, the thing that separates the right-wing tradwives and the performative tradwives is a clear message by the latter is that this is a life choice for themselves, and that tradwife content creator’s work is monetised. These women have financial autonomy, as far as we can tell, where this is a lifestyle as much as it is their career.
So, if we examine the movement through this lens, can we say that the performative tradwife life is in fact… feminism? These women live their lives as homemakers and child-bearers work that is thankless and is largely considered the default for women by the patriarchy. So, should we not praise them for reclaiming power and using these expectations placed on them as a means to gain independence? Romanticism of these tasks draws attention to them, and they make them appealing, they create a paradox where these unseen tasks are being seen in a sparkling, glittering haze of light.
Of course, the women who create this content are wealthy, and aren’t showing the less glamorous parts of motherhood and homemaking. I don’t think Mrs Smith has ever been seen cleaning a toilet in her life.
These tradwives are by no means the antidote to curing our world of patriarchy or our saviours when it comes to holding men who try to dominate women accountable. But their content creates a conversation about this invisible work that women do, that is in dire need of being seen and valued. The more we shine a light on the many roles that women play, the closer we come as a society to recognising feminism in its many forms.
