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Girls' Town is the Centre of Aristasia Friends where all our different Activities take place and where you are always welcome to join in and take part. The forum runs backwards - newer entries are at the top. |
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DON'T LOSE
TOUCH! |
Girls' Town Asleep
Girls' Town is going to sleep. The smart brunette guards at the gates are sleeping. The schoolchildren lie down in mid-play. The shopkeeper sleeps with her change in her hand, the girls in the Cocktail bar settle into the deep armchairs. The roses begin to grow, scenting the somnolent air with their blossoms and guarding the slumbering town withy their thorns.
But do not worry - it will not be a hundred years. Expect awakening on the 25th or 26th of June, and in the meantime, why not join the Keep-in-Touch Club. Technicals permitting, we will try to Keep you In Touch.
New visitors, please feel free to browse our Girls' Town Archives and see what the town was like when it was awake - and will be when it reawakens shortly.
Please not that messages sent to our usual letterboxes will not reach Aristasia Friends until Girls' Town Awakens, so please send any communications to Miss Lindie Miralene, the Keep-in-Touch hostess.
With a kiss, but not yet a kiss of awakening,
The Blonde Management
Further News from Afar
I write today in the direst of straits! Never before have I felt so keenly the troubles that beset a blonde venturing out alone, even among other blondes -- but I am getting ahead of myself, and I'd determined to tell you everything, right from the beginning, because I must pour out my heart to someone... someone who might not judge me too sternly for the depth of my silliness.
You know, do you not, that my Maman, la Generelle, is away? She is playing war games in the Loire Valley, and while normally I would accompany her as a matter of course (the only chair she will allow in her pavilion is reserved for me, and a detachment of her aides guard me from her corporelles! And the officers' wives are delightful and truly sympathetic, for they understand far more than the wives of civilians, what it is like to have a uniform in the house!), for we do not like to be apart, I felt a trifle unwell on the day she intended to depart, and so I remained at Hautefontaine.
My ladies and I rose early on Sunday and broke our fast with croissants, and slices of fresh melon. We braided our hair rather than dressed it, and I am sure we must have looked an awful sight, dishevelled as we were -- but there was no point dressing then, just to be bundled into a barouche! Used to the routine, we slept on each other's shoulders, or cheek to cheek, and I confess I find such moments well worth the loss of sleep... brunettes are all very well, but the camaraderie between blondes of similar age and upbringing is quite the sweetest and purest thing I know.
We came to ourselves again upon reaching the town of Versailles. My Maman keeps a beautiful little house there for just such moments as these, and with no time to spare we flew about within, dressing and powdering and rouging, with the aid of three coiffeuses between the five of us (six, really, but our chaperone doesn't follow fashion as we do). It's better to have one each, but on Sunday, the court is thronged with blondes of high birth, and competition is quite fierce: I do not know how much my Maman pays them, but it is a full year in advance, so that my hair will always be tended by a brunette of the greatest skill!
At the palace itself, my ladies left me, as I became a lady-in-waiting myself, to Marie-Antoinette. The blondes of her household all crossed the Peace Room together, to the Hall of Mirrors, and we were none too early: our brunette Queen, Louise XVI, was already waiting. We all proceeded to the chapel, led by our beautiful royal couple... I was pleased to note that my gown was quite the thing, particularly compared to that of Mademoiselle de Vries, who quite made me blush at her elegance the previous Sunday. Perhaps that was the reason Her Majestyet me carry her prayer-book. I peeped inside as we passed through the vestibule, into the chapel itself, and was disturbed to notice nothing holy within those jewelled covers: on the contrary; 'Les Liaisons Dangereuses'! It is said that she is not very devout, and sometimes has trouble paying attention in Mass, yet I would never have suspected her of replacing prayers with risque novels... but I will say nothing, for to speak would be to reveal that I recognised 'Les Liaisons Dangereuses' when I saw it, and that would never do!
I am getting away from my topic, aren't I? My Maman tells me I am quite enchanting when I let my thoughts wander, but that is when I speak rather than write, so I am not entirely certain I'm being diverting. I'm a prolific letter-writer; we blondes have to be, for marriage scatters the friends of our youth to all ends of France, and beyond... when we do have occasion to meet after a long separation, it is a great occasion -- as it was that Sunday afternoon, immediately after Mass, when I saw among the late-comers my dearest Adeline, now wed to the Vicomtesse du Boulainvilliers! We were much together the previous summer, and I stood with her on her wedding day, but not once had I set eyes on her eternally wistful, heart-shaped face since then.
Tears fell freely from our eyes as we embraced in the courtyard. She whispered to me that Blanche and Severine, two sisters we'd known well when all four of us accepted the hospitality of the Thibaults, had accompanied her -- and in due course we all met in my Maman's house, to drink lemonade and, truth be told, gossip! I'd been left serene by the beauty of the mass, and now I was among my old friends... how could the day become more pleasant? I wondered if I might gain permission for at least one of them to return with me to Hautefontaine, to be with me until my Maman returned, and the thought made me giddy. We were all four of us giddy, now that I think about it! Adeline was teased about her married state, and me about my unmarried state, for I am the eldest of our quartet, and at length we sat down to play piquet.
It was here that my downfall came! I would never have anticipated it, because I am so used to playing cards with brunettes, and it's an unwritten rule that a blonde never really loses: no brunette would be so caddish as to press a blonde over a gambling debt. I insist on paying mine, of course, for I am a Saint-Vire, and my Maman is very good about such things... it's quite essential for a young blonde courtier to play at least a little; quite essential. And I knew these maids so well that I was utterly unguarded, and I didn't pay attention to how much I won or lost... until the Vicomtesse came to find her wife, and we stopped to reckon up: I owed Adeline a pittance, and Severine owed me a matter of a few hundred francs -- but I'd written notes of obligation to Blanche to the tune of over ten thousand francs!
Under my powder, no one would have seen my face paling to match my opponent's name... a debt among unmarried blondes is a debt, you see, unless their Mamans step in... and mine was away! It would take a letter days to reach her! My pin money had somehow disappeared (I can't see a blue ribbon without desiring it!), and wouldn't have been enough anyway... what was I to do? I couldn't throw myself upon Blanche's mercy, to be sure, for I am a Saint-Vire... my debt had to be honoured... but how? And with what? One arm still about Adeline's waist, I swooned.
My visitors had departed by the time I woke, lying on a chaise in my boudoir, with my stays loosened and Sidonie beside me, fanning me gently. She is my favourite from amongst my ladies, perhaps because she is so unlike me... she's quite the most independent young blonde I know; her hair is tinged with red, which surprises none who know her! I looked up at her and thought of what she would do, if she found herself in a dilemma like mine... which, of course, she wouldn't, for she always remembers numbers, and I never do. She'd deal with it herself, wouldn't she? She wouldn't hide, and wait for her Maman to come to the rescue... she isn't helpless without a brunette, the way I am. Make no mistake: I wouldn't change for all the world, but when there isn't a brunette to depend upon... I couldn't be an independent blonde myself; the only thing to do was seek the help of one. Not Sidonie, for she hasn't two sous to rub together. Perhaps...
Later that afternoon I paid a call on Mademoiselle Leblanc in Paris. She doesn't seem as independent as Sidonie, but she must be, for she never married. I wonder if her heart was broken, years ago... she is quite old now (forty, I should say), but she's still awfully pretty... I daydream sometimes about a grand passion, thwarted by her mothers -- or perhaps the mothers of her high-born suitor, who was forbidden to marry a commoner! That's another mystery; why a woman without birth or title is received by France's best. Perhaps her blonde mother was noble? I don't know, and nobody talks to me of such things -- I asked my Maman once, and she said I'd understand when I was older... my Maman almost never refuses to answer a question like that.
Mademoiselle Leblanc was not at home, but I sent up my card, and she agreed to see me... she's quite partial to me, I like to think; really the closest thing I have to an aunt. She received me in her dressing-room, wearing the most delicious silvery peignoir I've ever set eyes on. In no time at all I'd told her everything, and ruined her peignoir with my tears and my powder... she held me in her arms and stroked my hair, and I felt, for a little while, as though events might resolve favourably after all.
Caressed as though I were a kitten, I almost began to purr like one, until she told me what she thought and I realised it wouldn't do. She said I ought to do what I already wished I *could* do: wait until my Maman's return, and lay the matter before her. But I knew I couldn't. I couldn't bear to have such a debt upon my shoulders for another whole fortnight... Mademoiselle Leblanc said she could understand that. I'm sure she could, as she's always been much in fashion, and no blonde courtier who plays even the tiniest bit can avoid obligations forever. Then she leaped up, with the energy of a maid half her age, and we repaired to her boudoir, to look through her desk, with the idea that she could lend me the money to settle with Blanche, and I would not mind so much having her as a creditor until my Maman returned, and the three of us could work the matter out together. Mademoiselle Leblanc (her name is Léa) and my Maman have an affection for each other; she is almost like an aunt to me, and I have permission to use her given name when we are just a family party.
This seemed an excellent notion. I was much pleased -- until it transpired that she'd overspent herself in much the way I always seem to do, and the most she could let me have without defaulting on her servants' wages was a mere two thousand francs. I shook my head and told her that she mustn't lend me money, not under such circumstances... and then, I think I may have told an untruth. I think I meant it at the time. Does that make it a truth, even though I later did quite the opposite? I shall ask my Maman. Really I shall.
I told Léa that I would try to bear my debt as best I could, until my Maman returned. I could see she was pleased. We talked for a time, as blondes do when there are no brunettes present, of matters I shall leave to your imaginations. I'm trying to follow the advice of Aristotelia, who, in her "Poetics", stated that one must weigh each word and calculate whether it is necessary to the narrative, then keep or discard it accordingly. I've always found her work to be extremely edifying.
It was decided that I should accompany Léa to pay a call she felt compelled to return. I took the part of her maid, and helped her to dress... it was no hardship at all for me; she always wears such beautiful things that I relished the opportunity to peek into her wardrobes and armoires. I must admit that some of her underwear caused my eyebrows to fly up into my hairline. It's a blonde secret, you know, that we don't dress for brunettes -- we dress for our own pleasure and our own pride, and if Léa's Chantilly lace makes her happy... But all the same, I wonder what her laundress must think?
My chaperone had waited in the barouche all this time, as, of course, I had no need of her presence whilst I visited Léa. We joined her and travelled to the townhouse of the Comtesse de la Vauguyon, arranging that I should return Léa to her own home prior to departing again for Hautefontaine, via Versailles, to collect the ladies-in-waiting I had left there. A chaperone is easy to leave outside when one desires private discourse with a blonde friend, but one's ladies are another thing entirely. For one thing, they feel slighted, and it isn't wise to depend upon a slighted maid for personal services.
I saw that Marie-Leonide d'Orleans was already visiting the Vauguyons. All at once, the perfect solution came to me. I hoped I hid it from Léa, or that, if she saw roses in my cheeks that were not there before, she would attribute them to the presence of a young, royal brunette, who was known to be partial to me.
It was nearly dusk, and we were served tea and madeleines on the terrace -- the Vauguyons, Léa and I, Marie-Leonide, and another blonde I know a little, Madame la Marquise de Gontaut. In time, as I'd hoped, Marie-Leonide asked if I would take a turn around the gardens withher... I accepted, as the adults present know Marie-Leonide is permitted to court me, and my Maman considers her a friend, besides. I leaned on her arm, and in her free hand she carried my fan, in case I should want it.
Barely were we out of earshot of the terrace than I steered the conversation away from my beauty, and towards a scheme that she and I, with Marie-France, had conceived of during a ball we'd all attended the previous month: a faro bank, with the three of us as equal partners, and my brunette friends, of course, providing the capital and absorbing any losses. They felt it would be a capital amusement for me, and I agreed. Only now it couldn't wait: now, without seeming to urge Marie-Leonide, I had to convince her to call upon her cousin and arrange things, so that our bank could make its debut at the de Vries' Anniversary Ball, two nights hence! My Maman had said that I might go without her if I felt I could manage, as it is quite a fixture, and only the best people receive invitations.
Marie-Leonide needed little persuading, and in no time we were sharing enthusiastic forecasts of our bank's success. So as not to push our luck, we returned to the terrace, which we'd never been out of sight of (except, perhaps, for a moment as we admired the climbing roses), and a few minutes later Léa rose and we took our leave. Marie-Leonide winked to me privately as she bowed over my hand. The game was afoot!
I write now from Paris. I'm dressed for the Anniversary Ball, but I still have long minutes to pass before I leave... the ball has already begun, I know, and the bank may be in operation at this very moment, winning for me the ten thousand francs I so desperately need... I'm tortured by my need to seem detached, and to make a fashionably belated entrance... I cannot be seen to regard the bank as anything but the idlest amusement, when now it seems my whole life hangs upon it! My peace of mind, certainly! Oh, Dea!
Henriette has just come in. I must school myself to be calm, and end this epistle. I remain your faithful, albeit distressed,
Celeste de Gothia
Veils that themselves are veiled
I am in complete agreement with Miss Suraline. Most figures can benefit from a certain amount of moulding and the idea that to wear a girdle is a confession of inadequacy or a travesty of Virgin Nature seems to me to be dangerously close to the dreadful sophistries of that villainous Tellurian sect which opposes the removal of bodily hair.
Where
I come from, in Kadoria, some form of girdle is normal for most girls of sixteen
and over. It is not necessary that it should be in any way severe.
Girdles take many shapes and forms and are often delightful garments in themselves.I should even put forward the view - though I know not what others may think of this - that the girdle has something in common with the veil, lending something of the glamour of intrigue and mystery to a girl's body that a veil lends to her soul.
In support of my view, may I suggest that the enclosed picture suggests how a charming, but very everyday and engagingly innocent garment such as the soft woollen jumper and white skirt modelled by the brunette can be given an overlay - or rather an underlay of romance, mystery and fascinating suggestion by a foundation garment such as that modelled by the blonde - without in any way compromising the innocence of its charm.
An unduly romantic or mystical view? I honestly do not think so. It accords very much with my own inner experience, so I suppose one must say it is true for me if for no-one else.
But am I the only one?
A Kadorienne
A Visitor from a Far Country
Please pardon my intrusion upon your discussion, but Hautefontaine becomes so lonely when my Maman is away... I thought it would not be unfitting if I sought diversion here. Even if, as some say, pettes from our part of Arcadia aren't strictly Aristasian. Our country is called France, but it is not the France you know: it is another France, far distant, bordering Amazonia, and our customs are said to be very strange -- I have heard it whispered that Westerners would consider us immoral. I don't know why... everything here seems perfectly in tune with the Golden Order to me. I know that France is the best and most delightful of all places in the world, and Hautefontaine is the dearest of all chateaux, and I am a lucky maid indeed to be situated as I am.
I should not like you to think that I am anything but the most proper of blondes, so I shall be on my very best behaviour here, as if I were invited into the secret cabinets of our dear blonde Queen, Marie-Antoinette! It is not such a stretch to imagine that, for I was presented at Versailles when I was not quite fourteen, and fresh from a year at school in the West. I have sat amongst Her Majesty's ladies several times, as we nibbled Turkish Delight and told each other's fortunes, and spied on the new court artists from behind our fans! The last time, Marie-France slipped in and snatched my fan, and refused to give it back until I promised to ride with the Royal Hunt the very next morning! She really is the most incorrigible of brunettes, but a lot may be forgiven a Dauphine!
Oh!
I have not introduced myself, have I? Very well: I am, by the grace of Dea,
Marie-Marguerite Celeste Emma de Saint-Vire, Marquise de Gothia. My Maman
is Nathalie Ghislaine Electra de Saint-Vire, Marquise de Saint-Vire, Comtesse
de Roquejardin, Comtesse de Gothia, and Generelle de Saint-Vire. Yes, 'Generelle',
for in addition to the titles settled upon her, she is a great military commandress,
and wears the most lovely blue and gold uniforms. She's my brunette Maman;
my own darling blonde Maman passed on some years ago... she was an Englishwoman;
Lady Emma Hamilton, and it is after her, in part, that I am named. Marie-Marguerite
is for my grandmere, the Duchesse de Gothia, head of our family even though
she has passed many of her duties and titles to my Maman. But in deference
to those two ladies, I am called by the least distinguished of my names: Celeste.
You may address me as Mademoiselle de Saint-Vire, or de Gothia, or Mademoiselle
la Marquise, as we say. Perhaps when we know each other a little better, we
may use first names.
Haven't I a very large name? I'm sad to say it goes with being a very large blonde... don't mistake: my waist is as neat as Her Majesty's, but I am as tall as a beanpole, and even my Maman can barely look over my head! I'm seventeen years old now, and I still seem to be shooting upwards, as if, Marie-France says, my hair is trying to reunite with the sun that once kissed it.
At least, that is almost what she said... I am not as adept at translating from French to Westrenne as my Maman is, bas bleu though I am. My language may sometimes seem clumsy to you. I hope you won't mind. I should like very much to be liked here, for the company of my ladies, while always soothing, isn't always scintillating. They do not read as I do -- I don't imagine many brunettes do either, for, you see, I was reared by a Generelle who is also a scholar, and my earliest memories are of her reading aloud to my blonde Maman and me. Books are just as beautiful to me as satin slippers, and given my choice, I should go without slippers to have a new book to dizzy myself with.
While my tutors never forgot my blondeness, they educated me almost as they would a brunette -- in deportment and music and drawing, to be sure, but also in history and literature and geography and languages. I speak, read, and write, French, Westrenne, Italienne, and Latin, and I have a little German... and when I travelled in the East with my Maman, for her studies, I learned a few words of the strange tongues spoken there. I forget things, of course... my Maman says that even the most intelligent blondes tend to lack mental organisation, and she says it in such a loving way that my cheeks flush and my irregular verbs fly right out of my head. But she is patient with me, and coaxes them back between my ears, however long it takes. Do you think such learning unfits me for marriage? I overheard Madame la Comtesse de Pougy say as much to my Maman... but who minds La Pougy, I wonder? Not our circle, to be sure! La, I speak as though I were already a saloniste!
I must go now... I have babbled on too long as it is, and I hear Sidonie looking for me, to dress me for the evening. I shall wear my new powder-blue velvet, with cabochon diamonds about my throat, and I think I should like my hair dressed a la Melisande. Pouf! I'm glad powdered hair is no longer in vogue; it made me sneeze horribly! But you can see, here, in this portrait by Madame Fragonard, that it did become me!
Affectionately,
Celeste de Gothia
An
Intimate Matter
I have been delighted to follow the discussions in this hallowed libatorium on the great questions and pressing issues of the day, such as hats, gloves, veils etc.
In fact I was a little surprised that Mlle de Serrière should suggest that you teach that elusive subject "civilisation" as that is exactly what I thought you were doing. Perfaps she thought that we should discuss something a little more fundamental. So, with the merest hint of a blush, I propose to do precisely that.
The
subject I raise is certainly intimate and perhaps even a touch controversial,
but I should welcome the views of this Assembly of the Wise. I refer to the
matter of girdles. They have not been mentioned heretofore (to borrow a delightful
word from young Miss Mitzi), perhaps for reasons of maidenly modesty, or perhaps
because they were not considered important.
Nevertheless, I understand that in parts of Quirinelle and in many other places a girdle is considered the essential foundation of a girl's presentation, even a girl in her teens, and also a very attractive, albeit not-normally-visible item of apparel in itself.
Whereas the reaction against this garment found in certain quarters might possibly be considered - well, not entirely sound.
What do other girls think?
With intimate curiosity,
Miss Suraline
Belladonna
Dear Editress,
I was delighted to discover that my Belladonna site was mentioned on "Aristasia Friends"! And now I have the pleasure of informing you that Belladonna is on Elektra-space once more -- I had some trouble with the bongos who were serving me, but now I have found some who are better. I hope you will mention that Belladonna is in existence once more, and today I am bringing my links page up to date so that Aristasia Friends will be included!
Eve Taggart
Webmistress, Belladonna
A Scamp Writes
Most esteemed Blonde Management,
I should be most grateful if you could inform your correspondent Miss Lindie that these august pages are not the place to refer to me as a young scamp. Quite apart from any considerations of decorum and suchlike, it does nothing to enhance the oh-so-grown-up appearance she tries to put on among her elders in these sophisticated meeting-places.
Having said that I will agree that I should have mentioned the other Creatures that appear in Pocket Monsters Cereal. They are Pikachu, Ditto and Poliwhirl. Pikachu is yellow, Poliwhirl mauve and ditto Pink. Oddish is green. Lindie says that is the only way you can possibly tell them apart. But really, a little imagination is required, you know.
Anyway, Oddish is by far the cutest, as I have had occasion to mention heretofore.
Miss Mitzi
I am afraid Blonde Management maintains a position of strict neutrality in sororal disputes. You can go and squirt her if you like. But please, not in the Coctail Bar - they are a bit fussy there, and I am sure the Blonde Barmaid would like the opportunity to spank some one instead of being spanked.
Phakes and Phonies
I really think some of the pictures on this site are being tampered with. The jinky veil picture was undeniably delightful, but the wording was highly suspect. Fredericks? What an outlandish name! Who ever heard such a word? And Hollywood - no doubt there is a town of that name somewhere, but might we not suspect that the in this instance it is actually a play on Ivywood - you know, the place where they make all those photoplays?
What do others think?
Miss Isalene
The Keep-inTouch Club
From the 15th of June, Blonde Management and some others involved with Girls' Town will be away. This will mean that Girls' Town will probably be dormant, with no one to tend its civic needs.
However the kind pettes at aristasia.com have offered us the use of their special server to create a private posting list. What this means is that if you send us your Elektrapost address we will be able to send bulletins to all members containing some of the material that would normally appear at Girls' Town.
That way we can all keep in touch while Girls' Town is asleep.
Just click on the button below and send us your elektrapost address and we will sign you up to the new posting list when it is ready. Needless to say, your address will not be given to anyone else - including other members of the Club
Mädchen in Uniform - the Novel
There are actually several works to be considered here. There is the stage play Mädchen in Uniform and the photoplay of the same name made from the stage play. There also now appears to be another photoplay made in Quirinelle (which, from the poster, looks fascinating).
However, the novel - which was, I believe, written after the stage play is not called Mädchen in Uniform but The Child Manuela, and I believe tells the story of Manuela's life from edarly childhood until the events of the play. The matter of the play forms only the last part of the book. That at least is what I seem to remember.
If we can each obtain copies of the book, it might be a pleasant idea to read it together.
Miss Isalene
Response à Miss Barbara
Ma chère Miss Barbara,
Your image is certainly quite stylish, and you are right: I could indeed offer some insights into the way a French lady would consider the uses of the veil in an all-feminine company. This being, however, a venue for Aristasians of all ages, I will keep my counsel for now. Perhaps as time passes and the site matures into several meeting places (a school, perhaps, would be a first addition), I will share my thoughts on such a piquant subject.
Sincerely,
Mlle de Serrière
In a school? Oh la-la!
Perhaps we had better not read Mädchen in Uniform after all. It is giving people ideas!
Response à Miss Gillian
My dear Miss Gillian (for I take it is you who bade me that gracious welcome),
I am glad to see the academic standards in Aristasia have not been relaxed since my last visit to it. I have had the pleasure of reading the extract of The Feminine Universe posted in your site, and must say that its piercing insights go much along the lines of my own thoughts. It is obvious that girls of all kinds will come visit Girl´s Town in the coming weeks, but if at least some of them discover the radiant "Weltanschauung" that emanates from it, some valuable seeds may be sown. I personally intend to obtain a copy of The Discarded Image with the greatest brevity.
As I believe in the importance of the commerce of ideas, I have a references to offer to all blue-stockinged Aristasins: a book by Mr. P. Hitchens. Its rather dramatic title, "The Abolition of Britain". Thoughtfully considered, however, it is perhaps a most apposite title. If Aristasia ever resolves to open an academic centre, I believe a great deal of it could be used to teach that elusive subject, "civilisation", that seems so much amiss in the Pit.
Et c'est tout pour l'instant. A bientôt.
Mlle de Serrière
Veiling Can Be Fun
A
thousand welcomes to Mlle de Serrière. Some Gallic chic is precisely
what we were wanting, and such a charming example thereof.
Miss Gillian, darling - there is nothing silly in a brunette's being captivated by the mystery and magic of a veil. Brunettes can be romantics too, you know. And should be in my opinion.
So I hope no one will think me iconoclastic if I demonstrate that veils are not always mysterious and shiveracious, but can sometimes be quite jinky. Not normally, I grant you, but here is a picture I found that captures the veil in its lighter mood.
I hope you all like it as much as I do, and if it gives one girl the courage to try a veil, I shall not have sent it in vain.
For I should just love to meet one of you in a veil.
And umm - does anyone have any thoughts on the subject of kissing through a veil. I confess the idea thrills me.
>blush<Perhaps Mlle de Serrière can give us a delightful French perspective on the subject.
Miss Barbara
Why, Miss Barbara - how a blush can suit a brunette!
Book Club Revisited
Maybe we really don't need to organize a book club. Instead, maybe we should all just try to read the books that come up in conversation here at the Cocktail Lounge and discuss them. Maybe we should all visit our local libraries and try to find copies of Mädchen in Uniform. Perhaps Miss Nicola could post the author's name. Of course, we should only do this if we are feeling very strong or have the guiding hand or a strong brunette to help us through it. Could there be a brunette schoolmistress right here in the Cocktail Lounge to help us blondes through this difficult book?
Thank you very much.
Miss Johannah
Enchantée de faire votre connaissance
Dear girls,
Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Claude de Serriere, and I come from what in Tellurian terms is called "France". Some days ago I received a very kind note from Miss Miralene to the effect that the Aristasian society was, once again, active. Being an admirer of the Aristasian... shall I say "tradition"?, I felt compelled to visit, and I must say I feel quite impressed. Ladies, your attention to norm and your healthy curiosity is to be commended.
While perusing the postings in Girls' Town, I have had frequent occasion to smile, but perhaps the most touching intervention has been the one in which Miss Gillian describes the polity of Aristasia and uses that gilded term, the Dance of the Cosmos...
I am sure Miss Gillian understands when I say that some fond Elizabethan memories were awakened by her words.
Well, I do not wish to outstay my welcome, so I will leave the thread by now. Ladies, I hope to see this society grow and blossom as it deserves.
A bientôt
Mlle de Serrière
Your welcome, dear Mlle de Serrière, is one that could not easily be outstayed. The Dance of the Cosmos is very much an Aristasian concept - even in the "modern" West our ways of thinking are in many respects far closer to those of much older societies in Telluria. This becomes clearer if one reads The Feminine Universe.
Raihiralan
You mentioned the word raihiralan in your recent reply about the Politics of Harmony. I was under the impression that Raihiralan is a language. Am I wrong?
Miss Gillian
You are not wrong. Raihiralan is actually an adjective meaning, strictly, "of the Raihira estate" or more generally, especially in the West, "high-born" or "noble". It is, however applied to various languages or dialects derived from the Cairen language, which are spoken in various parts of the East and to a certain extent in Novaria.
True Cairen is often referred to as Raihira Cairen (the expression might be understood as meaning "High Cairen", rather akin to the expression "High German"). It is only spoken in a very few places now, and it is probable that even in those the pronunciation is not the same as in ancient times. Later dialects which hesitate to call themselves Raihira Cairen are often referred to simply as Raihira or raihiralan ditesh (raihiralan speech). The latter expression is usually abbreviated simply to Raihiralan and used as if it were the name of the language, which, indeed it has more or less become. This does not, however, affect the other and older usages of the term.
The Lady Question
It may seem a naïve question, but if the poor people in the Pit cannot find gentlemen to rule them, why do they not have ladies?
Miss Karen
Do you mean to rule them? Or in general?
That Picture Again
I
have found a smaller but complete copy of that picture that seems to show
Princess Zelda in Super Sweet Fighter (how nice that you all adopted
my suggestion about that name). As you see it shows very clearly that Princess
Peach is also there, on the far right, so there can be no confusion between
the two.
Miss Barbara
Veterans of the Theatre of Life will know that the best way to know if two characters are played by the same person is to try to get them to stand together in the same room - so your logic is sound. Though nobody would have thought the other one was Princess Peach, as Princess Peach is not a Shia-maiden and hasn't pointy ears. Though I suppose you never know with personae.
Name the Milky Parties!
But Mitzila, you little scamp! You didn't tell us who the other three Pocket Monsters are, apart from your dearly-beloved Oddish! Not that I disagree about Oddish at all. I am an oddish-fan par excellence. But you'll never become a junior reporter on the Game Friends Courier at this rate
Miss Lindie
Recognition at Last!
I
really must just pop in and tell you the most exciting thing! Today in a little
shop in Verentaly, Novaria, we found Pocket Monsters Cereal! Yes there really
is such a thing. It is in the most glorious box with gold writing on the front.
The cereral is sugary and crunchy and has coloured marshmallow bits in the
shape of four pocket monsters. Now if this wasn't enough to make you pop (with
excitement, silly, not over-eating!), one of those four is Oddish.
Now I think Oddish is entirely neglected and overlooked. Even my Pocket Monster quilt which has nearly all of the original creatures on it has no Oddish. Oddish is the cutest and the best, and now Chelloggs, at least has begun to recognise that.
Anyway, do rush out and get your Pocket Monsters cereal because it is a Limited Edition and only lasts two months - and the front of the box is so jolly you can cut it out and pin it up in your bedroom if your blonde Mummie will let you.
Mitzi Marenkhe
Politics of Harmony
It is fascinating to hear the peaceful and consensual nature of politics in Aristasia. Is this because Aristasia is something of an "ideal world"? In a real world, are not politics necessarily contentious? What would an Aristasian think of modern British politicians?
Miss Gillian
But what world could be realler than Aristasia? Certainly it is not true that politics must necessarily be contentious. Partly the problem in Telluria is that a patriarchal society becomes increasingly dominated by Vikhe (Mars), the principle of conflict. But even in Telluria the concept of politics - which should be merely the art of managing the State - as an arena of conflict is a relatively recent one. Let me quote a very eminent and wise Tellurian scholar, the late Dr. Ananda Coomaraswamy:
The
other Mädchen
Charming
Photographs
Gold
stars, by the way, have not been forgotten (in case any one was thinking they
had). Both Blonde Management and Design Department are working on them. In
fact we are thinking of having stars of various colours to collect - rather
like a lightgame.
Well,
I know it is an accessory, but does anyone know what I mean - or am
I just being silly without even being a blonde?
Veiled
in Mystery
Most
girls have more than one persona, and many have blondes and
brunettes in their repertoire (in Aristasia-in-Tellurian slang, such a girl
is called an ambi). Others, while they have many personae will
always play the same sex (such a person is called a plenary blonde
or plenary brunette).
I
now have two of the essences, so I am really rather clever. But so many things
have happened. I have been bumped into on various occasions by a clumsy little
trainee witch called Maple. How she ever gother Broomstick Licence I cannot
imagine. I hope she will prove useful later as so far she seems a nuisance
and not a very polite one either. Brunette drivers!
Incidentally
one plays a cute little creature in green and wearing a pixie-cap. You are
called by your own name (or any you choose).
The
new Zelda is here. Well, it isn't quite, but I have an imported one to beguile
my Alicelessness. And it is so exciting. A lovely booklet with beautiful
pictures of all the people one can meet. Seeds to plant. Dozens (literally
dozens) of magical rings to collect, all with different powers and
- oh, so many things. Zelda is one of the great games, like Pocket Monsters.
A new Zelda game is an Event of Years. And all this when so much else is brewing!
But
let me tell you what has happened. I awoke at the start of the game to the
sound of faint music. I tried to turn the sound up, but it remained very faint.
As I wandered Eastward it became louder, until I found myself in the camp
of a travelling troupe of actresses, with their waggons and campfire. A rather
wild-seeming flame-haired girl was dancing on a tree-stump. Cunningly, her
hair is mid-red, so brunettes can see her as a blonde and blondes as a brunette.
It seems this girl found me asleep in the woods - in a sort of coma. I could
not be awoken and seemed to be having nightmares.
Essentially
Sucrescent means "Pertaining to the Angel (or Genia) Sucri (Sushuri)".
Sucri corresponds to the Tellurian planet and goddess Venus (Aphrodite). Both
the colour pink and milk are things that correspond to Sucri, so milky pink
is particularly Sucrescent.
