Not going to lie. This is my dream and I am building the wardrobe and decor to suit it.

Let’s look around because I am curious if I send this signal.

I remember way back in the 80’s reading an article in a decorating magazine and the designer said every single space should have a touch of black to anchor it and I have never forgotten that. In every space i have curated for myself I added a touch of black. Even in my all white stage where the walls, sofa, and bedding was white and all my wood was teak I still put it over a white shag carpet (I was channeling Liz Taylor’s house that I saw in Architectural Digest) but the black anchor was the tv. That was before tv’s were wall hung and thin and light. They had those huge backs and needed their own stand and were so heavy. Yes, I am that old.

Now I have black velvet curtains and throw pillows in the living room, a black rattan headboard and bed frame in the bedroom, black floating shelves and an actual blackboard wall in the kitchen/studio space and I put my vintage panthers on the bathroom shelves. Black is sinister so I think this is a good start.

I have some other dark walls and very moody lighting and all of my candle holders are vintage black iron with tall white pillar candles so I think I am channeling “most feared widow in the village” nicely. In my decor anyway.

** scans the space looking for cursed artifacts **

There is my mini me. A gift to my Aunt from a close friend who did ceramics made from a photo of me (my brother has one too). They look EXACTLY LIKE US and we are pretty sure they carry a piece of our souls. When he found them buried (no pun intended) in a box deep in my moms storage under the christmas decorations he didn’t know what to do with them so he shipped them to Vancouver with the rest of his stuff. We hadn’t thought about them in 40 years or more. They used to sit on the hearth in her family room but she sold that house in the late 80’s so now what? I put mine in a vintage kimono and got her a little familiar and she is rumoured to have a lock of my hair baked into her.

Just kidding about the hair. I think…

** keeps looking **

There is this fortune teller mug and bell. My Aunt gave them both to me and told me i had to put the mug where I could see her so the fortune teller could advise me and to keep money in it to attract abundance so it is filled with old money from all over the world and a few rosaries. The bell she got in Italy the first time she was there and it was always my fave of her brass bell collection.

There are other things that could apply but I think there is a fine line between cursed and magical. I have seen things at flea markets and the thrift that I believe were cursed. I could feel it and even though i might have loved it I would never buy something with that energy. For any type of adornment. Wardrobe or home because eep! It is why I get that having a fear of old things or previously owned items is an actual phobia. I feel that way about clowns. I would never have any clowns around me. This might stem from the clown in the movie Poltergeist but still. There is nothing scarier than a clown.

I am gonna take the “feared widow” title anyway because that amuses me and also I can be a mean and petty bitch with some exquisite boundaries and no interest in listening to what men have to say and I have no trouble standing up for myself in many situations so obviously that applies because isn’t that what makes women feared? A voice. Boundaries. Not caring what the patriarchy thinks. Being single.

It’s not my resting bitch face or my all black wardrobe that MIGHT indicate that I could be involved when i am being interviewed about my whereabouts of my missing lovers. It’s not my black cats or my collection of tarot cards. It’s not the magic I know or the magic I carry or the covens that surround me. It’s not my biting words or my clever wit.

It’s 100 percent how MEN view me that makes me feared.

It’s my firm no’s and my “I didn’t ask what you thought” and how I nurture and love and gather and support my village in a way that leaves them out that makes me feared. Because they know without them I will be fine in my dark and moody apartment wearing my dark and moody vintage clothes, talking out loud to my familiar and my mini me and my fortune teller.

The only thing left it to acquire an ACTUAL real life village next to water and a forest where we can all channel the feared widow energy and reign supreme. Together. Cursed and happy.

Also, some goats. We need some goats. And a pack of wolves. And ravens. And a bat colony. And a fire pit in the village square with a fire that never goes out. And an apothecary. What else do we need? Tell me.

Live wild. Stay gold.

Thanks for hanging out with me.

Renee xx

Randomness and wild musings for day 4 of Effy’s September blog along.

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