As a child, I didn't much appreciate my meanderings through the underground world of Alice in Wonderland. The original Disney rendition was much like a Technicolour nightmare for my young self, with a bizarre set of characters that all seemed very loud and too overly moonstruck to be believable. The book itself, to my commonsensical 5th grade mind, was without a head or a tail: rather, it was more like an odd assortment of bits and pieces that suddenly agreed to pull themselves together to form something vaguely ressembling a novel and was, by a very strange audience of critics, dubbed a classic.
However, it was only at 15, as I developed a discerning eye and a knack at seeing the hidden metaphor through the supposed madness, that I started seeing what a gem 'Alice in Wonderland' truly is. It is actually a lovely and elegantly written metaphor for life and growing up, so well written that it takes a skilled and cultured palate to realize what it is under the glamour. The fantastically whimsical crazy characters are no more crazy than the people we run into every day, the incredible transformations that Alice goes through are just like the growing-up process. And so began a beautiful friendship that resulted in many ramblings in Wonderland.
However, to the world outside several small 'in-the-know' creative communities, Alice in Wonderland was a perpetual fixture on the nursery-book shelf, only dusted off in order to make some new woefully inadequate cartoon version; that is, until Tim Burton got to it. With his new version that was grafted seamlessly into the other two books, the world exploded with Alice references, in music, fashion and literature. Pocketwatches were suddenly a sought-after accessory, and the gorgeous costumes inspired many a fashion house.
The world may have moved on, but the small crafting communities still recognize Wonderland's worth and find it a source of inspiration. Etsy still stocks dozens of pocketwatches, one of which I acquired for my birthday (fulfilling a lifelong whim), crazily patterned teacups can be found anywhere and so, the Caucus race runs on. Princess Ta-dam is also a part of this, featuring sturdy, functional yet fashionable totes, all with the dreamlike, colourful prints that just scream Alice in Wonderland.
the Rose
For the last few years, the vampire-fuelled rage has swept the world, and even more lately, the fashion industry. We see vampire inspirations pop up everywhere - Converse shoes with hand-painted images of Bella and Edward, an influx of Ray-Bans (how does it link to vampires? Watch Edward's eyegear in Twilight), Revlon's Just Bitten lipgloss line, and, more recently, a flood of 'Vampire Diaries'-inspired leather jackets and intricate lockets [vervain, anyone?]. We are proud to announce that Princess Ta-dam is the newest member of this genre: our vampire collection (predicted to be released in January) will have a contemporary look, with some pieces still looking back at another era that the vampires dominated, a hint of victorian style, a blend of modern and era-reminiscent materials.
Expect in the recent future the arrival of 'leather-rosette' adorned headbands, and necklaces in darkly shimmering shades, of shadowed yet sparkling crystal and dusky glittering silk, in our new collection, 'the Violet Hour'.
the Rose
In reading the first part of this title, you might have been struck with the question: why 'the Poisoned Apple'? This is the perfect metaphor for the great majority of the fashion industry as we know it. Imagine the most beautiful candy apple you have ever seen: all glistening, having just emerged from a glossy, fire-engine red ocean of liquid candy, looking as though all that's missing are your teeth sinking into one crisp-sounding, sweet and sour bite. Go ahead. Take that bite. But instead of that joyous flavour of rainbows and beautiful fall days, you are unpleasantly surprised by a bitter taste, not unlike missing a step on the stair. You feel as though you've been cheated: the promisingly glossy exterior hid an unpleasantly mushy and tasteless flesh, and even the toothaching sugariness can't hide the fact that under its sleek shell, it is rotten to the core.
Walk in any mall near you: slip into your favorite stores. Hear the rustle of silk as your fingers glide across that liquid moonlight, don a fluorescent-paint splattered punk t-shirt, twirl around a few times in front of the mirror in a Jane Austen-inspired sundress, or whatever else grabs your fancy. Would it surprise you, shock you even, if your most coveted clothing article, that most perfect, faultless item, was made by an exploited and malnourished child, living in the most desolate of surroundings and environments, who faces daily the possibility of being whipped for stopping even a moment to catch their breath? Has this thought even crossed your mind?
The title of this article incorporates three important elements in the modern use of slavery in industry: firstly, Blood - the kind of hardships that these modern slaves undergo that we cannot allow to continue-, Silk - the use of slavery in the fashion industry-, and Chocolate, one of the more notable examples that must be mentioned, which has a very long history of cruelty.
People all over the globe are desperate for money to survive, to protect their families, and are unaware of the rights they retain. Unfortunately, they often become the prey of sweatshops and plantations, that promise the possibility of earning that much sought after money, tantalizingly offer dreams of freedom and being one's own master, even agreeing to provide food and lodging, when they then reveal their true colours, forcing the newly drafted employees to (depending on the domain of work) slave away in the fields, brave the arduous and unceasing work and the elements or operate and repair (to great danger to themselves) dangerous machinery in factories, for hours on end, with no breaks, and with only a meagre and insufficient meal in their stomachs. Illness does not excuse you, neither does injury: resting or stopping for a moment can and will cost you physical punishment. There is no one to pick you up after you have fallen. Workers drop dead in the fields, the hardships having been too much. There is no breaking the pact you have made: all you can do is hope for a miracle.
Thousands of adults and children are being employed in sweatshops all over the world. The exact number is unknown as the transactions are illegal, and therefore statistics that are any more than approximative are not possible. Who works in sweatshops? As mentioned before, there are people looking to make a better life for their family, people who have no other choice, and, the most heartbreaking of workers, children. Many are kidnapped, some are tempted away by the opportunity of helping their family; this tactic is very effective in certain African countries, where there is always a distant relative who can offer to procure a job and accompany their young niece or nephew on the journey to their workplace; others are enticed by dreams of luxuries that are ordinary to a North American child, but are rarities in third world countries. More heartbreaking still, some parents put their sons or daughters there to obtain money to raise the rest of the children.
Who employs this kind of brute force to manufacture their products? Surely not our North American chains. The answer is: yes, our brandnames, the most trusted, established here long ago. If the item you buy is not explicitly marked fair-trade, and comes from a third-world country, there is a very good chance that it employs slave labour. Don't be convinced by the fact that they sponsor good causes: an excellent example would be Gap. It has its 'Do the RED thing' campaign, and yet it was discovered that a line of shirts of theirs were embroidered in a sweatshop employing children in India! This is the stark reality for many companies, more than we care to hear.
However, this isn't the end of the road: there is a new generation of shoppers who are realizing the importance of their choices, just as there is a new wave in couture, one that has high hopes and expectations of cleansing and redeeming the ethics of fashion. This movement is starting in the smaller fashion houses, that want to clean this act up and make clothing articles that are beautiful, comfortable, and care about the people who made them and the environment, and it'll slowly but surely work its way up to the bigger companies. Princess Ta-dam is proud to be a part of the fair-trade movement.
The Rose
“‘Who in the world am I?’ Now that’s the great puzzle!”
-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
Answering this question with a reflection not only on who I am, but also who the society of today strives to be, will be a fitting self-introduction to the world within my first blog post.
What is my purpose on this Earth? Do I really belong here? What are we doing here? “‘Who in the world am I?’ Now that’s the great puzzle!”-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland. Throughout our lives, especially in these ever-shifting and changing times, we often ask ourselves these questions: more often than not, the answers elude us. But do they really? Could we be the ones running away? Could we be almost afraid to answer these questions, and prefer to hide blissfully behind rose-coloured glasses? To really grow as a person, to find out where you are and where you should be going, I challenge you to probe at the canvas of the self-image you’ve painted and ask the question: Who am I?
While writing this blogpost, I’ve mulled over what culture tells us about self: but after I’ve scrutinized the proverbial mirror on the wall and pried it off its hinges, then the big question on the tip of my tongue found its way onto paper: can you stay true to who you are, and yet be in a state of constant change, of growth?
What does staying true to yourself mean? Where does faith to the unique self end and being stuck in old traditions begin? Well, for me, it means knowing your mind well, knowing what your values are and staying with them. Like a clam, the world is irritated by what sticks out from the softness, like a grain of sand. But if the grain persists, if it stays resolute, then it will turn into a pearl.
What is it that defines us? What do you think of when you are asked who you are? Your name may surface, a cross may shimmer as a response or a look in the mirror might tell you enough. Or maybe, like Alice, you too search for yourselves amongst your peers: is she herself anymore, or has she become one of the children she knows? When was the last time you saw others trying to imitate one of their ‘cooler’ friends just to please? Or those masses of people dressed almost identically, that just by throwing one glance their way, you can categorize, file, and punt them into a box, where they’ll stay, collecting dust, forever under a label you gave them in 5 seconds of reflection? These labels weren’t created by you, nor the files and boxes: these were pressed onto you and into your way of thinking by society. But society is not always right: nobody is born to fit these files, and yet we all struggle to conform. So why keep the labels? Wouldn’t discarding them lead to a happier life, rather than having to quash down what makes you you?
We are not defined by our situation, but rather, what we make of it: your character, who you are, hinges on how you react when presented with what you have. You could be blessed with everything you need to be a mover-and-shaker, but if you don’t use what you have, then your chances of fading into averageness are just as great. Vice-versa, if you have little, but are bent on being the best you can be, then nothing can stop you.
Is a person more the mind, or the body? Your first judgement is of their outer appearance. But when you get to know them closely, which is more important to you, the thoughts and dreams, or the face and mannerisms? This paradox is universally documented in literature: in the play Cyrano de Bergerac, Roxanne fell in love with the soul of the disfigured suitor, and not the pretty face of the other. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, ‘Love is painted blind’. Don Quixote, the noble yet mad knight, loved the ugliest woman. Stephenie Meyer’s The Host stars a girl being inhabited by a peaceful alien, and was beloved by two boys, one loving the girl and her soul, and the other loving the alien, no matter what body she lived in. Edward, the vampire of the year, would love a mortal, despite her being the victim of the ravages of time. The body is a shell for the soul, the glistening pearl.
We are losing our grips on who we are: media demands that men should be muscled and women should be smoky-eyed, pouting and skinny, advertisements promise a new- and consequently better- you, as long as you buy their hair-gel. All these clamouring voices try to convince you that you need better clothes, a better body, a better everything, that you are anything but perfect, and while they’re tearing you down, they offer you evanescent happiness in a bottle- with a price tag included of course! Have you ever noticed that modern fairy-tales for girls always link beautiful with ‘happily ever after’? From Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong With Me’ music video to Anne Hathaway’s transformation in Princess Diaries, the happy ending stipulates becoming beautiful. But what of accepting people, or yourself, as you are?
Growing up, living, is like a tumble down the rabbit hole: you feel as tall as a tower, then like you can melt through the floorboards, you can sometimes scarcely believe you are who you were before you started changing so much, and sometimes everyone seems absolutely mad! “Who am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle!” Well, my penname is 'the Rose', I take my real first name after a Roman empress, I inherited my father’s silver-blue eyes and my mother’s compassionate yet feisty nature, I’m a through-to-the-bone Montréalaise, openly literati, a closet botanist, Jane Austen fanatic, dark chocolate enthusiast, proud guitar owner and if I’m a white rose, I refuse to be painted red to accede to the whims of an idle queen. I AM.
Signed,
the Rose
