“Whoever that one is, she’s gone too far,” he said quietly, and she forced her eyes open and found the cause of the commotion: at the top of the stairs, a newcomer in a black and orange gown. “This must be unbearable for you,” he continued. “Or do you know her?”

“I don’t,” she said uneasily. “It’s someone’s idea of a joke…”

“Perhaps,” he replied. “Or perhaps not.”

As they were talking, the strange women Linnetta had been trying not to notice all night had gathered at the base of the stairs; the other revelers had given the five of them a wide berth, and they stood motionless, staring out at the dance floor.

“I think you do know who she is,” her partner continued. “I think you’ve known each of them since you saw the third one; possibly the second.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Wisps of hair fell out of her updo, sticking to her face. “It must be some kind of joke. A trick, to try to scare everybody.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“But how? How is it even possible that they’re…?”

“They have made their own pacts,” he answered lightly. “There are other powers than those you have dealt with, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Liar,” he replied, with an indulgent smile. “I know all about the bargain you made… Almost all, anyways. Was it that you were already sick, and you traded their lives for your own? Or was your illness part of the ruse, so you could avoid suspicion?”

“I — I could never do such a thing,” Linnetta whispered, but it was unconvincing even to her.

“And so you were able to possess them, and manufacture their deaths one by one. But Georgiana has been seeking her revenge ever since the night you directed her off that cliff. Did you think she could let such a thing rest, even in death?”

Linnetta turned reflexively towards the woman in the black spangled dress, and her eyes were so captivating that she didn’t even realize the queen of the ball was being announced. Her partner had to give her a little push towards the center of the dance floor; a crown was placed on her head and everyone started applauding. She smiled graciously and waved, but faltered when she saw her sisters. Why had no one else noticed they had taken their masks off? While everyone else was clapping, they stood motionless, their hands linked, their faces mangled and ghastly; the only face she could bear to look at was Lenora’s, bloodless and as pale as her gown. Panicking, Linnetta turned back to her dance partner, and while he still wore his mask there seemed to be no difference between it and the skin beneath. He reached for her hand; the embroidery on the cuff of his sleeve pulsed as if stitched with blood vessels, and the bright lining of her gown was setting her skin on fire.

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I hope you enjoyed my little Halloween story… In the end it really was just an excuse to do some creepy masquerade gowns, but it was fun to write too. Thanks to my husband Brian for brainstorming the original idea with me and editing it.

No thanks to Brian for writing a Python script to vote automatically for fairies 20 times. That’s right, the proper fairy vote count ought to be whatever-it-is-minus-nineteen… That means it looks like literary characters get next week, probably, since I doubt he’s going to try a stunt like that again.

You know I had to do this poll… vote for your favorite masquerade costume!

After three years of black and purple mourning clothes, Linnetta’s gown for the masquerade ball — a playful representation of a demon princess — was a blaze of glory. She felt as if its crimson lining was burning her skin, and her cheeks glowed with, if not perfect good health, a fair imitation of it considering all she had gone through. Even after so many near brushes with death and grief, no one was as beautiful as she was tonight: such thoughts consoled her on such a difficult evening. Linnetta bowed her head demurely as she made her entrance at her father’s side, ignoring the buzz of voices. It was distasteful to hear people placing bets on when she was going to die, but she had gotten used to it.

Linnetta found herself trapped in polite conversations with Lady Someone-or-another, and then Duchess So-and-so, and (so it seemed, in the rush of masks and spangles) every woman at the ball; in her absence from society, Linetta had forgotten most of the titles she ever knew, but she’d lost none of her charm. She didn’t really want to talk about her sisters, but whenever a conversation partner made sympathetic noises about her unfortunate loss — five sisters, and so young! — she made grateful noises in return, so each nosy woman could leave feeling like they had comforted poor bereaved Linnetta without actually sharing in her tragedy.

The cursed sisters all should have been there that night, and Linnetta felt their absence keenly, as if she saw them from the corner of her eye. The masked faces were all focused on her, trying to predict the manner by which the youngest and fairest daughter would meet her end, and wondering if it might even be tonight. Linetta ignored them, taking refuge in a cluster of acquaintances. She couldn’t even lose herself in the dance, for it’d be unseemly to be too carefree at her first appearance after her long illness, and the period of mourning.

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… Don’t worry, I’ve written the whole story out in advance this time. In terms of site news, no one has guessed the correct singer / group that I learned to draw gold from. (Hint: look at my about this page link for an idea of possible dates – this isn’t a trick I picked up recently). Also, I’m going to put up a poll tomorrow for week 3 of costumes: please post any suggestions in the comments.

You poor October birthday people… I was really hoping to avoid orange, because orange is so overplayed for October, what with the changing fall colors and Halloween, but then it turns out your birthflower is the marigold. So I couldn’t avoid orange in the end, but I hope you like it anyways. Even if it’s immodest for me to say so, I really do! It’s simple, but it’s my favorite of all the month dresses I’ve done so far. Of course, since I haven’t covered all the months yet that’s not quite saying much, but in November I think my project will be to catch up…

Tomorrow starts day 1 of the Lord of the Rings Halloween costume series. I’m also going to be putting up a poll for what I should draw for week 2, so if you have any ideas, please post them in the comments and I’ll add them to the poll.

So I was talking to my husband about what I should do for today’s paperdoll. “You should make a beginning of fall fairy,” he said. “Nah,” I said, “not if I’m going to end up doing fairies for the first week of Halloween costumes.” “You should make a beginning of fall mermaid,” he said. “Nah,” I said, “I just did a mermaid.” “You should make a beginning of fall human,” he said. “What a great idea!” I replied.

That is what it is often like talking to me, I’m afraid. I’m a lousy brainstormer. But anyways, he’s a good one, and that’s why we have this dress today. Remember that, when you are wondering why I have a Mega Man costume up, sometime in the next couple of days.

Congratulations to Catie, who guessed my favorite Prismacolor color: ultramarine! Now, you may be clicking back to the list of Prismacolors thinking “wait, what, that ugly thing?” For some reason, the color on the website is completely different from the actual color the pencil produces, a heavenly rich blue. I actually don’t use it all that often, because it can be a little finicky to blend with the other blues – it has a kind of reddish undertone, and most of the blues really don’t – but when I do it really makes me happy. The 1893 bathing suit’s blue is primarily done in ultramarine, with blue violet lake and cloud blue blended in – and still the scan doesn’t do the original justice.

The poll is still open for set 1 of Halloween costumes!

So some days I’m happy to draw, and I can slave over little picky details for hours and not get bored. Some days I’m not that into it, but after a half hour nothing can make me stop. Then some days I just want to color, and not in a reasonable kind of way but just in a wild way. That’s what led to this dress. I’m kind of so-so about it, but my husband really thought it was pretty. He also said “It’s the kind of dress where, if you took it to a dressmaker and asked to have it made, you’d get punched in the face. But it works as a fantasy dress.” And so I posted it. Paperdoll fans, you don’t know what kind of debt you owe to my husband, because a lot of things I’d draw I’d probably never post if he didn’t look and say “Oh, it’s cute!” I’m very critical of myself, so if he thinks it’s OK, probably it’s OK…

No one has guessed my favorite color of Prismacolor… I’ll give just one hint, it is NOT my favorite color. (You can guess what my favorite color is just by taking a good hard look at this page… *cough*green*cough*)

Now, I happen to know my mom edited this revision of this dress, and therefore it had to be drawn, because my mom’s awesome. I think I ought to ask her to design me dresses more often when I’m feeling unimaginative! She’s also more dangerous with the Prismacolors than I am – she does absolutely gorgeous drawings of flowers and plants on cards, then sends them to people. She jokes that you only get to come to her funeral if you got a drawing from her. Here was her description of the dress:

A sunflower yellow bodice,green peplum with a beyond floor-length skirt done in blended colors of harvest. The hem is heavily decorated with a matching line of Celtic designs in dark blue, with golden accents.

She also has a pair of long dark green gloves that reach halfway up. The back of each hand is embroidered with harvest and Celtic designs. On her feet are soft blue satin slippers.She also has a subtle webbed crystal frill tiara (worn front-to-back)with dripping tiny blue seed pearls. Around her neck is a matching crystal and single pearl necklace.

I guess you have to imagine the satin slippers, and there wasn’t enough space on the glove for a harvest design, but I think this came out really nicely and hopefully close to what Mom was imagining. This is one where I wish I could show you all the original — the harvest colors on the skirt are a lot prettier on the real thing. It made me decidedly twitchy to finish coloring the skirt, then draw patterns all over the hem, but it worked, I think!

So, I hope you all out there are having good luck with your New Years resolutions, because I, oh, TOTALLY failed mine already. (”Draw more,” of course.) Yeah, sad, I know. I have no excuse, and I offer a fancy dress in penance.

I designed this one when drawing Diana’s masquerade gown, but I thought it would be a poor spy who would wear something so dramatic, so I drew the blue gown instead. But I did like the design, and so it didn’t get tossed with the rest of my sketches.

Now, I actually don’t believe in ghosts, but if Marie Antoinette walks the earth still, I like to think she has something like this to comfort her. It would certainly comfort me, not that I intend to become a ghost. Just think, if one was a ghost and wearing panniers one wouldn’t have to turn sideways to go through a door anymore! Thanks to Antoinette’s Closet for inspiration.

In any case, thank you everyone for following my costume month. My goal was to do one a day, and I got 20 done (plus one Hinawa, and a couple of Boutique posts) which isn’t bad. I hope those of you who aren’t really all that into Halloween didn’t get too bored, and I hope that those of you who do enjoy Halloween liked some of my costumes and are enjoying yourself in some fashion tonight.

So, now I want to know which one was everyone’s favorite. We’ll do this in four parts, with part 1 today and closing in two days…

For someone like me who is enamored of skirts and frills, Hillary Clinton’s pantsuits are alien, but I suppose if I was a tenth as busy as she must be and people were following me around hoping for a picture of me looking unkept, I would probably switch to the pantsuit as well. Also, after looking at dozens of pictures of her in pantsuits, this picture of her jackets being checked against stage lighting completely cracked me up. It’s not like there’s anything inherently funny in it, but just the fact that the jackets are all the same except for the color made for an amusing tableau. It feels like online shopping for clothes, where you select a different color on a skirt or something and the color switches but the picture stays the same. You can almost see the intern fussing around with Photoshop sliders. (I tried changing this image that way, but had mixed results.)

Anyways, this is a rendition of the pantsuit that she wore on the second day of the Democratic National Convention. Not quite right, as usual — the doll’s body is too long, which is a lot more forgiving to work with for skirts than for pants!

And don’t forget to vote…

All we know about the gown from the book is that it is white silk and adorned with coral (two pins in her hair, her sleeves looped up with coral strings, and a coral necklace.) There’s no firm date given for the events of the book, but I’m dating this gown to 1852, based on this page, which makes it sound as if the strike in the book was based on the historical strike at Preston in 1853, a year before the book began to be serialized. Then, this was the gown that Margaret also wore for her cousin’s wedding, which was at the beginning of the book. It’s an inconvenient date — right there between the Regency gowns and the hoopskirt at its height. I used this page for reference, mostly.

It may sound like the book is some sort of Civil War drama, but it refers instead to the differences between the slow-paced farming communities of the south of England and the upstart industrial cities of the north. For this reason I found it a rather odd book somehow; it starts off with a wedding, a silly mother, a pastor father, a suitor for Margaret and a good bit of walking, gardening and drawing, and we Jane Austen fans think “Oh, I know where this is going.”

(Unrelated: while chatting with a woman working at the bookstore the other day, she told us she had been talking to someone who lamented, in all seriousness, that Jane Austen hadn’t written anything lately.)

But just as the reader is getting acquainted with Helstone and its inhabitants and charms, there’s a crisis: Margaret’s father loses his faith in some way, enough that he feels that he must renounce his living and find other employment. This revelation is never truly explored in the book, as Margaret seems rather afraid to ask for any more details, and instead throws herself into the mundane details needed to keep the family together. So they move to Milton, a factory town, and her father becomes a private tutor. And all of a sudden, this book which had seemed to promise a lightly romantic comedy of manners, brings in questions of religious faith, chapters upon chapters of class conflict, lingering illness, murder, deception, lies, grave misunderstandings and lots and lots of death. (And why the one character I would have liked to see die never quite made it there, I have no idea.) This is all separate from the story of Margaret’s love interest, which is its own little torment; they must spend thirty chapters thinking of each other, misunderstanding each other, and being miserable, before it is all finally resolved in the last page of the book.

I enjoyed it thoroughly, even with the heaps of melodrama, as Margaret herself is a fascinating and admirable heroine, and the depiction of the class conflict is easily more important than the romance. The strike, the union and the millowners are all treated evenly and sympathetically, and the inclusion of such themes makes the novel so unique.