‘Twas the night before Frockmas, when all through the site
Not Kendra nor Sarah were writing, not even a mite;
Trystan was anxious, as always, before blog deadlines,
In hopes that good snarking would soon come down the line.
Costume dramas were calling, all streaming the net;
While visions of unfortunate biggins danced on some heads;
And metal grommets on back lacing, and not a hairpin in sight,
Contractually obligated leather pants strained credulity all night.
When out of Netflix or Hulu or even Amazon Prime,
Sprang something shiny and new, well worth our time.
Away to the blog posts, the editor flew like a flash,
Fired up the laptop and Pink Drink with a crash.
When what to her wondering eyes did appear,
But a feminist multi-racial frock flick with storylines queer
And historically accurate, such gowns sent from heaven
She knew in a moment they were designed by Jenny Beavan
Or Colleen Atwood or Sandy Powell, so perfect the art
Edith Head herself could’ve come alive to take part.
Not vapid, ’twas regal, the movie it came
So Trystan watched and screencapped it all just the same.
No Keira! No clomping! No skeezy Rhys Meyers!
Just classically trained actors, the best they could hire!
A frock flick of fine quality and filmed in grand halls
No snark away, no not today, praise it above all!
And there, in a twinkling, she saw a great fop
His prancing and dancing, a full-bottomed wig on top
Of his charming ‘lil face, and as he turned all around,
Cross the garden, more actors came with a bound.
They were dressed all in silk, from their heads to their foot,
And their clothes were all historically accurate in look.
They were not alone, no, they ran in a pack!
Lords danced with fine ladies to a glorious soundtrack.
The mantuas — such draping! the fontanges — so lacy!
The costumes were delightful, the dialogue, racy!
With droll wit on the screen plus damask, velvets, and bows,
Hairs perfectly styled, heads graced with chapeaus,
It was the frock flick we beg for, a visual dream,
Each gown and towering wig made the eyes gleam
With joy, so this editor had to write it all down
Bit by bit with researched citations for every suit, wig, and gown.
Trystan wrote out the words, she thrilled to this work
and typed up the blog post, adding links without shirk,
And messaging Kendra and Sarah with glee at this flick,
She told them how wondrous this movie she’d picked.
Now finished and scheduled, she laid down to rest,
Happy to find a film so historically well dressed
She was heard to exclaim, as day faded to dark —
“Happy Frockmas to all, and to all a good snark!”
Yay! I love the poem. 💖
May everyone who celebrates, have a very Happy and Merry Christmas!
(I don’t celebrate this particular holiday myself)
Frockmas is nondenominational & for everyone :)
Such poetry even Donne and the Bard would envy.
Loved it, although it looks like I’m going to have to wait for the Favourite to DVD as it didn’t play here.
And verily Merry Frockmas to all and all a good night, to paraphrase a favourite poet.
And we can list all things right with the MoS movie on the head of a pin (see Catholic schools can give an appropriate SNARK.)
Thank you & happy snarking!
I adore your poem!
And the same to you: a cool yule and a frantic first!
Keep on snarking!
“No skeezy Rhys Meyers!”
I’m glad I wasn’t drinking eggnog when I read that, I might have snorted it up my nose.