Sing, muse, of the time before myths were old. Of the goddesses who roamed among us, their stories yet untold. Sing of the Goddess of really bad fakes, of purses marked “Bucci” and sunglasses by “Channel.” Sing of the Goddess of unwashed hair, the Goddess of outsized proportions, the Goddess of unrepaired friendships, the Goddess of shades of blue.
[Clockwise from top left: Four vintage decorative stones from Oldism; Modern Norwegian candelabra from Loken11; Handmade sun tapestry from nerina52; 1970s op-art vintage vase from oppning; Vintage Native American sterling silver ring from alchemievintage; Gray silk ’80s trousers from Hold My Gold Vintage]
Tell of the Goddess of mutterers and mumblers, of those who make no distinction among consonants. Chorus: What of the Goddess of places I’ve never been, and tomorrow? Sing!
[Clockwise from top left: Antique archery banner from Daily Memorandum; Vintage Ben Hur “Flesh” face powder from Tin Store; Genuine scarab Victorian brooch from vintagesparkles; Faux bloodstone ring from jeanjeanvintage; Faux marble pyramid from longroadtonowhere; Oxidized olive leaf brooch from squirrelnuts; Mid-century gooseneck lamp from modfolk]
The Romans had a Goddess of the sewers, Cloacina. I leave some fruit at the altar of the Goddess of the coastline, who protects those against whom the waves break. Sing of the Goddess of aging riot grrrls, of flea markets and excursions to small town thrift stores, of forgetting.
[Clockwise from top left: King Tut 1976 Enamel necklace from kimvintage; Vintage Issey Miyake cape jacket from grandmaslittlegirl; Moon chimes from mudpuppy; Handmade eye bracelet from ALittleDot; 1910s platinum and diamond ring from luxedeluxe; Antique Cartier cigarette lighter from artyfactz; Gauzy striped tunic from LuvStoneVintage; Handmade leather sandals from telena]
And most of all, sing of the Goddess of ambiguity — the one who lives in murky gray areas, the source of beautiful androgyny, yes, but also of moral uncertainty. This Goddess is the killer of karma, the upender of deserving. She protects those who know that nothing we do will necessarily lead to anything else in this world — but it doesn’t mean we can stop trying.