Aesthetics I Wish I Could Live

Perhaps these are out there and people are already living them — if you know them, give me their contacts!

GhostFlapper

This is my dearest desire. 

To have died at the height of your youth and power as a flapper in the 1920s. 

BFFs with Josephine Baker. 

Crushed on and rejecting of Hemingway. 

Beads and fringe for days. A cigarette holder the length of my forearm. 

Half my life is spent dancing in my underwear and silk kimono. 

Half pearls are glued under my eyes and days disappear collaborating with surrealists. 

Midsommarcore

Like cottage core, but with moral-outrage-inspired and obviously justified homicide. 

Loads of time creating bespoke embroidery and flower crowns. 

Dancing is the only acceptable form of exercise. 

All-natural-mind-altering drugs served free of charge and negative repercussions on holy days. 

Everyday is a celebration of all things natural. You are mostly barefoot to feel the majestic grasses. 

Everyone is your bestie. 

Your coming of age is to make a 5 year pilgrimage around the world in search of your soulmate. 

Moriarty Punk

You are James Moriarty (regardless of gender), but you grew up in 1970s London rather than 1870s London. 

You shock your upper-crust parents by sporting kilts and reading Irish poetry. 

You rail against austerity measures because obviously art and chess are the way to nourish a nation. 

In order to see your vision come true, you cyber-stalk the hottest smartest person you can find. 

Once you’ve enchanted them, you can tease and compel them into bringing down the patriarchy and Berlin Wall. 

Romantic Fabulist

Your favorite playlist is birds on the wing in an Alpine meadow. 

You and your best friends climb and ski the Matterhorn in search of the sublime. 

Every night you indulge in spiked tea and cocoa, while trading contemporaneous poetry, songs, and horror stories. 

Big chunky sweaters, mittens on strings threaded through the arms of your waterproof coats. 

Hats of every color and material make a continuous ring around the top of your bedroom walls. 

The only thing you smoke is opium, and only sparingly, because your blood pumps to run with the wolves in these Grimm forests.