Jill Kennington, Vogue UK, 1966
Batman photostrip by Traegar
(via hoodoothatvoodoo)
Liz
Pierre Curie, being hot as fuck. (Lecture on radium, Paris, c. 1900. photo by Henri Roger-Viollet.)
via Russell Joslin
completely obsessed
(Source: blackstuddedfashion, via loveyourchaos)
(Source: stacymichelle, via loveyourchaos)
Grey Villet, ‘A strip teaser using a hula hoop in her act’, 1958
The other day, some guy at work was opining on about how all women are either Audreys or Marilyns. I really disliked this on both macro (seriously, Random Dude? ALL women EVER?) and micro (personal) levels. I am not quirky, girlish elegance; I am not damaged, ethereal sensuality. I know women of both types, and sometimes I envy or pity them. Just as I’m sure they do me, right back.
It just felt very awkward, and virgin/whore, and reductive. And exclusive.
And for the record, I’m a Jane Russell with a Dorothy Parker fixation.
(via loveyourchaos)
Jaynie my love, you *always* know what time it is. Tonight I’m going to wear my highest leopard-print heels and dance my false eyelashes off in honor of you.
(Source: retrogasm)
I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’
—Kurt Vonnegut (via machimasu)
(Source: critiquesouriant, via sihayadesigns)
