I’m not even quite sure how to introduce this post, other than to say we’ve received a STELLAR email from a reader that is so impressive, it needs a public response. Any identifying information is being redacted, because I’m the nice cop of the group, despite this reader not having figured that out.
Starting Off on the Right Foot
Dear Ms. Pretentious Kendra,
As a costume designer who has an PhD in fashion and textile from Oxford University in London, I have been studying your snippety reviews regarding costumes for films listed in “Frock Flicks” for over a month on their website. With a great deal of reservation, considering I try to avoid dunderheads such as you, I have decided to write and let you know, in short, that although you seem to pride yourself with your preposterous theories, you know NOTHING about costume designing and little to nothing about period fashion.
First of all, you have lost all touch with reality in your views, undoubtedly because you have never personally engaged in the very difficult field of costume design and are spouting a lot of claptrap that has no basis.
Normally, we would just link to our FAQ, which covers many of your complaints. However, since you’re calling me out specifically, let’s do this. (Side note, did Oxford once have a satellite campus in London that offered fashion and textile PhDs?)
“Yes, we approach costume in movies/TV from a historical perspective, not a design perspective. None of us are professional costume designers in any way, shape, or form. We do make costumes, but for ourselves or other individuals who are wearing them for historical reenactment or fun. So we fully admit that there is a wide range of considerations and needs in terms of costuming a large cast, working with tight budgets, and dealing with producers/directors/actors/etc. who all have their own vision, all of which we are less familiar with” (Frock Flicks POV: Just the Facts, Ma’am).
“What I am saying is that there is a legitimate place in journalism for accuracy in reporting, and that includes reporters with some depth in the subject matter on which they are writing … Each of us has spent years studying and making historical costumes, including professional and academic work. We’re also trained researchers, in a mix of academic and journalistic disciplines. While we don’t know everything (who does?), we do know a hell of a lot more than the average random reporter when we compare what’s in a movie/TV show to the current research on what was worn in a certain period… So when fans of a movie or people who work on a TV show get huffy that we’re critiquing the costumes, please remember that this is our beat. We’re making up for all the weaksauce media reporting on historical costume out there. When the latest historical costume movie comes out and Generic Movie Critic is easily impressed by the “lush costumes,” sorry, they don’t know jack” (How We Are Different From Other Movie/TV Reviews).
We’ve Covered This
One, the job is not a one-man band operation. There are many people other than the costume designer that has input into what is seen on the screen. There is a script, that is usually quite specific about a certain look to start with. If the producer wants something, whether it is factual for the time or not, it’s what end up being seen. There is also the director who has major input, as well as a very precise, most often, less than substantial budget that only allows so much room for creativity. The rest is traversing a mine-field of opposition from anyone who thinks their input is relevant: special effects, makeup and hair, secretaries from the production offices, assistant producers, wives or family members of production executive and network executives, all who usually know zilch for the most part. Lastly, there are the stars who are usually exercising their own willful idea of control and insist on having things their way. When all is said and done, one is lucky to create anything that has an iota of fact for any period.
“One thing we try to be very careful about around here (although we may slip up occasionally) is not to assume that the costume designer is calling all the shots about the overall costume design. The director sets the vision for any film/television production and is the person who works with lead individuals to decide what the film is trying to achieve — scriptwriters, costume designers, set designers, etc. And, of course, we’ve all heard the stories of producers and studios getting involved in the vision and either proactively, or during filming, influencing how a production is shaped. So costume designers are not all on their own in an ivory tower, doing exactly what and how they want” (Should Designers Mess With Historical Costume?).
“But just like fashion designers who take inspiration from historical clothing and interpret it into something new, movie/TV costume designers may be interpreting historical fashion for their work instead of making literal copies of historical outfits … Costumes are typically a very small part of a film or TV series’ budget … So it’s no wonder that historical movies and TV series take shortcuts with costumes. Whether that means using less-than-period materials (because real silk and authentic lace is ridiculously expensive) or skimping on petticoats and other undergarments, it may just be a lack of budget or time issue … Sometimes the director or screenwriter has an idea about how the history should be. Not how it was. Usually, this starts with the action of the story — changing names, dates, and what happened for dramatic effect. Nine times out of ten, this leaks down into the costume and means historical accuracy will be sacrificed in the looks department too… Movies and TV are a business, and thus market forces are at play. Yep, they aren’t always making this for us, the history-loving weirdos” (Movies Playing Fast and Loose With History Part II: Why Does It Happen?).
Secondly, your bromides are in terrible need of exploration. You cavalierly toss off generalities about periods without taking into account, say the middle of the 18th century, where the same rules of dress did not apply to English, German, French, Italian and American revolutionary garments. It wasn’t until 1770 when fashion publication began to be printed that the mode of dress began to coalesce.
Well, pulling out the citations since we’re throwing down, fashion magazines did exist in the 17th century, most notably the Mercure de France (1672-1791), which published occasional articles on fashion from its inception through 1731, and also published the semi-annual, fashion-focused Extraordinaire (Reed Benhamou, “Fashion in the Mercure: From Human Foible to Female Failing,” Eighteenth-Century Studies 31 [Fall 1997]: 27). However, yes, the fashion press didn’t really get underway until the 1770s with (in France) the Courrier de la mode (1768-70), Gallerie des modes et costumes français (1778-87), Cabinet des modes (1785-86), Magasin des modes (1787-89), and Journal de la mode et du goût (1790-93); and in England, the Lady’s Magazine (1770-1847).
Fashion magazines certainly caused many changes in fashion cultures, and they certainly helped dress “coalesce” as you say across regions and countries (Kimberly Chrisman-Campbell, Fashion Victims: Dress at the Court of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015], 16; Raymond Gaudriault, Répertoire de la gravure de mode française des origines à 1815 [Paris: Promodis-Editions du Cercle de la librairie, 1988], 146-70; Aileen Ribeiro, The Art of Dress: Fashion in England and France 1750 to 1820 [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995], 76; Aileen Ribeiro, Fashion in the French Revolution [New York: Holmes and Meier, 1988], 20-22; Daniel Roche, The Culture of Clothing: Dress and Fashion in the “Ancien Régime,” trans. Jean Birrell [Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994], 13-14, 187; Françoise Tétart-Vittu, “La Gallerie des modes et costumes français,” Nouvelles de l’estampe, no. 91 [March 1987]: 16; Françoise Vittu, “Presse et diffusion des modes françaises,” in Modes et révolutions: 1780-1804 [Paris: Musée Galliera, 1989], 129; Dictionnaire des Journaux; The Lady’s Magazine Project).
I think anyone who knows the history of 18th-century fashion as well as earlier eras can tell you that there were definite commonalties as well as very distinct differences based on region, class, religion, and more. I’d say my favorite sources for a broad overview of regionalism in 18th-century dress is Aileen Ribeiro, Dress in Eighteenth-Century Europe, 1715-1789 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002) and François Boucher, 20,000 Years of Fashion: The History of Costume and Personal Adornment, trans. Yvonne Deslandres (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1967), although of course one would then want to move on to research that particular area, as I have done, for example, with Provençal dress. Oh, right:
- “It is plausible that Caroline Matilda would wear the English ‘nightgown,’ precursor to the robe à l’anglaise, since that was a style popular in England throughout the 18th century” (A Royal Affair).
- “The majo (men) and maja (women) were a very typical and unique look worn by the working/lower classes, particularly in Madrid…” (The Liberator).
- “This is an era of distinct regionalism in fashion, which starts to blur in the late eighteenth century (see: fashion magazines created, among other trends) — what was worn in Central Europe was slightly different from France or England or Sweden or Spain or Russia, and all of those were slightly different from each other too” (Maria Theresia’s Costumes: Actual Research!).
- “Her first dress is a robe à l’anglaise, the French reincarnation of the English nightgown. It’s rather fashion-forward for 1774 — most English women would still be wearing nightgowns, which would be cut as seen here, but with a pleated center back that is cut in one piece between the bodice and skirt” (The Duchess Deep Dive: Georgiana’s Proposal Gown).
- “I’m seeing the proverbial ‘general 18th century’ mishmash without some of the important elements that would make these costumes 1720s-specific. On the other hand, there are some things they did really well! Basically, you should see four basic styles of women’s dress (at least for French dress; I don’t know enough about Spanish dress in this era to comment intelligently)” (The Royal Exchange Mish-Mashes the Early 18th Century).
- “These kind of jackets started as regional (i.e., non-Parisian) styles… What particularly impressed me was the number of references to late 18th-century Provençal costume” (18th-Century Costume Influences in Beauty and the Beast).
- “You get to see some nice 1760s costumes” (18th-Century Quest Visits the Convent With The Nun).
- “What got me particularly excited were all the Provencal prints on minor characters and extras. The south of France was a leader in terms of wearing cotton prints, which were imported via the port of Marseille” (Perfume: the Story of a Murderer).
- “We looked in-depth at upper-class fashion previously, but let’s now add to that with some analysis of the middle classes” (Just How Fashionable Are Poldark’s Ladies? Part 3: The Middling Sorts).
- “Did Older Ladies Dress Differently in the 18th Century? The short answer: They certainly could! Some ladies clearly preferred to wear dress, hair, and/or accessory styles that were 10 to 20 years out of date. Others dressed more fashionably” (Just How Fashionable Are Poldark’s Ladies? Part 2: The Older Generation).
And, I AM THE FIRST TO SAY WHEN I DON’T KNOW AN ERA:
- “I recently got into a bit of a tiff on Facebook with a reader who was irritated that my post on Exodus and Troy didn’t include extensive scholarly research. I had a whole post in mind about how ‘Frock Flicks is not an academic publication,’ but I’ve realized it’s silly to write a whole rant aimed at one person [ok yes, I am now doing this. The hypocrisy!]. The thing is, the three of us have our own expertises, and sure, if there’s a film/series set in an era/place that I don’t know well, but another of us does, I’ll leave it to them to review. We also sometimes bring in guest experts. But no academic can possibly know every sub-area of their field, and finding guest experts is a big pain in the butt, so yeah, sometimes we review stuff that’s outside our specific expertise. And honestly, we need content five days a week! So I’m not going to watch a film like Manikarnika (or Exodus or Troy) and NOT review it simply because I don’t know much at all about 19th-century Indian dress (or ancient Egypt or Greece), given that neither does either of our other regular writers. This is a blog, not an academic publication. Personally I’d rather read a review where someone admits their limitations rather than pretend they know more than they do. And nobody is getting paid or getting tenure from this here blog” (Manikarnika: The Queen of Jhansi Is Not “The Warrior Queen of Jhansi”).
- “I wish I knew more about ancient costume, so if you do, please weigh in on the historical accuracy of the costumes in Exodus and Troy!” (Ancient Two-Fer: Exodus / Troy).
- “I don’t know 18th-century West African dress. I reached out on social media hoping to find someone who did who’d be willing to comment, but no dice. So unfortunately I’m unable to comment on the historical accuracy (or lack thereof) in terms of costumes in the first half of the episode!” (Roots (2016): Part 1).
- “So, here’s the problem: none of us know diddly about ancient Egyptian costume” (Tut: Heavy on Pretty, Questionable on Accuracy).
- “I’m not a Regency expert, so the most I can say is that most things passed muster with me. (I’m sure someone can point out why they put an 1809 sleeve with a 1797 hem)” (Confession Time: Why I Love Lost in Austen).
- “So while I’m interested in Indian dress history, I will freely admit to not knowing a lot about it” (Jodhaa Akbar: A 16th-Century Indian Romance).
- “Now, I’m no expert in Spanish fashion of the Renaissance, and certainly not of the 15th century. So I decided to ping someone who is” (WTF Is Queen Isabella Wearing in 1492: Conquest of Paradise?).
- “I don’t know enough about regional German fashion to say whether or not these are historically accurate” (Dueling Catherine the Greats).
Back-Lacing Apologists Unite!
Additionally, many items of dress, at the time had center back openings that were laced, hook and eyed, or sewn together when put on and then cut open when the day was done. Your remark, “Oh, my god, not more lacing!” shows how ignorant you are. Not every gown was a ‘robe à la française’ with a stomacher.
This reminds me of a moment, years ago, when I was walking down the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica, CA, one of those pedestrian-only streets filled with restaurants, theaters, and shops, where many people congregated on weekends. There were some preachers proselytizing, using a microphone for themselves, with another mic set up so that if listeners wanted to debate them, they could. Normally I wouldn’t pay much attention, but as I passed, I heard one of the preachers declare something like, “There is more historical proof that Jesus existed than that Napoleon existed.” And I’m sorry, but if you’re going to throw down, you’d better have some documentation. So I went up to the mic and started asking them about their historical documentation, had they been to the National Archives in France, had they visited collections/sites in Israel, etc. I eventually used the word “bullshit,” was told I was “not a lady” (to which I agreed), and had my mic cut off. Fin.
While I rely heavily on primary sources (historical artwork, extant garments) in my posts, one could claim I cherry pick those that fit my vision. So, let me clearly state that my use of primary sources is based on my knowledge of secondary. For example:
- “During the first three-quarters of the eighteenth century there were three main styles of gown, with a number of variations in each style. The first is the mantua… The second type of gown, with a fitted bodice, seems to have evolved from the mantua. The dressmaker made a linen bodice and pleated the material for the gown over this foundation … using a stomacher to fill in the shape left at the center front … The style of gowns with fitted bodices changed slowly… the fronts met edge to edge, fastening with hooks and eyes … The third style of gown, the sack or robe à la française … Early sacks … were joined from the hem to just below the waist at the front, fastening above this with lacing, or ribbons tied in bows … A new form of construction was introduced around 1800, with the bodice fastening at the center back. This method of opening the dress grew more and more popular, until the old form of the stomacher front, which folded down, became obsolete around 1810″ (Janet Arnold, “The Cut and Construction of Women’s Clothes in the Eighteenth Century,” in Revolution in Fashion: European Clothing, 1715-1815, ed. Jean Starobinski [New York: Abbeville Press, 1989], 126-34).
- “Early versions of the sack dress had loose pleats … It was worn either with the front seamed from just below the waist, or it was completely open in front, revealing the petticoat … The fitted gown had long been the favourite in England and, in the 1770s, it had a new lease of life with a closed front fastening” (Ribeiro, Dress in Eighteenth-Century Europe, 35-37, 222).
- “Another type of bodice was also in use at this time [1725-40]. This consisted of a fitted jacket … it was completed by a stomacher worn over the chest and stomach… The robe volante changed radically, becoming fitted over the bust … The front of the gown was open at the top to show either the corset itself… or a triangular stomacher … From the waist down the gown opened to reveal a matching underskirt or petticoat… In the middle of the century another style of dress was adopted … the robe à l’anglaise … At the front the skirt was detached to the bodice, which formed a point slightly below the waist, opening to reveal a separate stomacher… The robe à la polonaise… [was] a dress cut like a waisted coat, fastened to the bodice in front and revealing the lower point of a small bodice below… The robe à l’anglaise was open in front …” (Delpierre, Dress in France, 14-20).
So, if you’d like to offer me examples of center-back opened adult women’s garments from the 18th century that are NOT stays or court gowns, by all means. I can think of two sources off-hand; one is a dress in the Gallerie des modes that is specifically described as being “laced in back,” the other is the fourreau dress, a late 18th-century dress that began as a girl’s dress and laced in back, and became an adult woman’s dress that may have occasionally still laced in back.
Also, despite your ridiculing comments about bonnets (hoods) being a century early, “there were many in satin, taffeta or linen worn by women of all classes, on any occasion when full dress was not required, such as going to church or for a morning walk.” (Costumes of the Eighteenth Century by James Laver, A& C Black, Ltd., 456 Soho Square, London, W1. 1931)
First, there has been research published since 1931. How about:
- “Apart from the tricorn and the shepherdesses’ straw hat as worn by Madame de Pompadour for walking in the garden, the traditional headgear for women was the cap; for going out this was covered by the coqueluchon [hood], or by a mantelet or mantle … Caps… followed the modifications of the hair-style … during the Regency and at the beginning of the reign of Louis XV, fashion-conscious women wore only a scrap of lace on their heads. By the middle of the century… caps were worn only in the house … These caps, with their circular crowns gathered into a headband with ruffled edges … After the accession of Marie-Antoinette, headdresses, already tending to grow taller, were driven … to greater and greater heights… To cover these structures, the coqueluchon expanded to become the thérèse or the calèche, supporting by hoops like the roof of a carriage … The most significant item introduced during the period was the milliner’s hat … In 1778 a band began appearing at the base of certain caps; it either covered a circle of brass wire or was made of woven straw. The crowns of the caps were still soft, but the rigid brims now made them officially into hats. In about 1785 real hats began to be worn … These hats were made of straw or fabric, stretched over card or brass; they had broad brims and high, cylindrical crowns …” (Madeleine Delpierre, Dress in France in the Eighteenth Century, trans. Caroline Beamish [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997], 39-41).
- “The more usual wear for out-of-doors was the cloak; a modest woman would not wish to be seen much in the streets in the early eighteenth century, and the loose-fitting cloak, often hooded … The Mercure de France for 1729 mentioned bagnoletes, which were hooded short cloaks made of satin in winter and muslin in summer” (Ribeiro, Dress in Eighteenth-Century Europe, 46.)
- “Caps and other hair ornaments were always considered as part of the total hairdressing. In the 1740s, the linen cap edged with lace and with lappets was increasingly a middle-class fashion … For more formal occasions, tiny wired caps, also from France, were the height of fashion in the 1750s…” (Ribeiro, Dress in Eighteenth-Century Europe, 155-56).
- “At home and on informal occasions women wore small lace caps. Outdoors and while riding and traveling, women wore broad hats similar to men’s. Loose hoods, kerchiefs, and hooded cloaks were worn at night and in bad weather” (Jennifer Jones, Sexing La Mode: Gender, Fashion and Commercial Culture in Old Regime France [Oxford; New York: Berg, 2004], 21).
- “Cloaks and hoods were made either from woollen cloth, usually red, or silk, usually black, with no discernible change across the period…” (John Styles, The Dress of the People: Everyday Fashion in Eighteenth-Century England [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007], 90).
Second, I’m sorry, are we talking 18th-century fabric, soft hoods? Or are you saying that James Laver was claiming that women wore 1830s-60s-style, structured bonnets in the 18th century? Because sure, fabric hoods (either attached to the dress/jacket/cloak or as separate garments) were certainly a thing in the 18th century, as were hats. The term “bonnet” was used in France in the 18th century and referred to the cap — not the same thing as a stiffened straw, felt, or buckram bonnet. Yes, they wore hats made of these materials, but they were in a different general shape to the 19th century. You’ve basically lost me, here.
Let’s Play Nicey Nice!
It seems evident that you are a person who likes to take herself far more seriously than what you offer in terms of knowledge or experience. Someone who loves to watch herself speak in front of a mirror since no one else pays that much attention to your waspish remarks.
It seems evident that you are a person who likes to reprimand others for disagreeing with you, or claiming any knowledge. Maybe you’d enjoy our April Fool’s post on The Spanish Princess?
Also, let me point out again that I AM THE GOOD COP:
- “The bodice fitting isn’t 100%, but I ascribed that to the fact that this is a well-off but not rich woman living in a small town. Am I being too generous?” (Finding Altamira: Banderas & Bustle Gowns).
- “Would audiences have found this wider, lower bust attractive? Probably not, so you can see why the filmmakers went with the silhouette that they used. But it’s interesting to see the differences, and to know more about the real history!” (Titanic (1997) Corsetry: Historically Accurate?).
- “Elisa’s wardrobe is overall pretty decent” (The Load Portrays 16th Century Mexico).
- “It’s an interesting film with some overall nice costumes … Albert does a good job with getting the era right. There’s a lot of robes à la française (sack-back gowns), a few gowns that are more anglaise in style, and she uses mostly appropriate fabrics with a few too many obviously machine-embroidered elements, but that seems par for the course these days” (Mademoiselle Paradis).
- “There are MANY MANY shitty elements, and yet I found lots of things I thought were pretty or semi-decent or if-I-squint-I-can-see-where-you’re-going-there” (The Other Catherine the Great (2015) Comes to Amazon).
- “Impressively, there was a dearth of poly baroque satin and even, dare I say it, silk was worn! The costumes got the general gist of mid-17th century right. And okay, there were some metal grommets, but at least they were the small ones?” (The Queen & the Cardinal).
- “Some things they did very well, others were somewhat odd, and only two things made me WTF” (Beaumarchais l’Insolent).
- “To be fair and balanced, I feel like I need to point out some of the things that the production got right from a historical angle” (Top 5 Costume Inaccuracies – and Accuracies – in War & Peace).
Humor Is Subjective
Furthermore, you are far from funny or entertaining in any way,
1) I write for an audience that enjoys snark.
2) I write for an educated audience that prefers knowledge to “ooo pretty!”
“But our self-designated job here at Frock Flicks is primarily to discuss historical accuracy in costume (although we’re interested in other aspects as well). Our audience is comprised of people who love historical costume movies, and a large subset of those are people who know about costume history. And the Frock Flicks team is made up of writers who have an appreciation for all kinds of costume, but who are particularly versed in costume history” (Just the Facts, Ma’am).
and should be reprimanded for the put down you do of very talented individuals who are being creative, and not all the time ‘on the money’ which you have decreed a sin if they aren’t.
“So, when we point out inaccuracies, we’re just discussing the facts. I’m sorry if it hurts feelings, but it’s not a judgement call. There are probably 5 million people who love that design element, and we’re the 0.0001% who aren’t necessarily saying we don’t like it, we’re just saying that it’s not accurate to the period. That’s all. It’s a fact that gold lamé wasn’t invented in Cleopatra’s time. I’m not saying that to be mean or to be a spoilsport. I’m not going to lie and claim that Mary Queen of Scots totally dug the Coachella boho look, just because that’s how she’s been dressed in Reign” (Just the Facts, Ma’am).
“What we do is not criticism. It’s critique and, yes, there’s a big difference between critique and criticism. Critique is pointing out issues in a body of work or, in our case, historical inaccuracies in film and television, not just saying the entire body of work is utter shit and everyone involved in making it should be taken out back and shot. The former (‘this costume has these inaccuracies’) is critique. The latter (‘the costumer is a drooling idiot’) is a criticism” (POV: Opinions [A Story in Gifs]).
I do not care for Coppola’s “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” and think the costumes come nowhere close to the requirements of the period, but I do give it credit for being very inventive.
Ya know what?
Other movies/TV series we have praised for inventive costume design that doesn’t strictly follow history but does interesting, beautiful, and story-serving things:
- Angels & Insects (1995)
- Sleepy Hollow (1999)
- Vanity Fair (2004)
- Marie Antoinette (2006)
- Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)
- The Crimson Petal & The White (2011)
- Anna Karenina (2012)
- Outlander (2014-)
- Penny Dreadful (2014-16)
- Crimson Peak (2015)
- Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell (2015)
- Harlots (2017-19)
- The Favourite (2018)
- Six: The Musical (2019)
- Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
- Hamilton (2020)
- The Great (2020-)
And, I will point you to this interaction with costume designer James Keast. I reviewed his designs in The Scandalous Lady W, writing, “The costumes were designed by James Keast, and while there are some recycled costumes and a lot of re-wearing, he and his team did a good job with what I assume were limited resources. I pretty much liked all of the outfits — they were shiny, they were appropriate to the era (mostly 1781-ish), and they did a good job with adequate amounts of underwear and accessories.” He commented on the post, “Yes, the budget was very small, in fact the smallest budget I have worked on for years, I did my best. Very pleased with all the positive comments and pleased people have recognised the research that has gone into my work, James Keast, Costume designer The Scandalous Lady W.” We’ve had similar interactions by email with several costume designers. Sure, we’ve also pissed some people off. But we give props where props are due.
In that line, here’s some films/TV shows about which we’ve basically said, “Given budgetary limitations, it’s pretty good”:
- The Six Wives of Henry VIII (1970)
- The Last King (2003)
- Elizabeth I (2005)
- Casanova (2005)
- The Virgin Queen (2005)
- The Crown Prince (2006)
- Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (2012-15)
- The Girl King (2015)
- Underground (2016)
- Timeless (2016)
- Mystère à la Tour Eiffel (2017)
- One Nation, One King (2018)
- Maria Theresia (season 2, 2019)
- Belgravia (2020)
Big Books in a Stuffy Library
I think you should sit back in your lonely library chair where you rule the roost, just like you are trying to impose in your articles and give imagination and talent its fair due. Those that can do, those who can’t teach (or shuffle around big books in a stuffy library)!
I shudder to follow your own tack, but you don’t actually seem to know what a modern (academic) librarian does. Here’s some resources:
- Here’s What It’s Actually Like to Be a Librarian
- A Snapshot of a 21st-Century Librarian
- What Exactly Does a Librarian Do? Everything.
The world is filled with enough self-imposed tyrants, like Trump, we don’t need another egoistic nincompoop like you have made yourself out to be.
We’ve already established that there’s no pee tape starring me (and that Frock Flicks is a feminist, anti-Nazi, pro-Black Lives Matter, pro-LGBTQ, flamingly liberal publication), so you might want to rethink that comparison.
Take a course in Costuming 101 and you might make more sense.
Well, I’ve taken two, maybe that’s the problem?