š Black makeup with a delicate shimmer as opposed to the normal flat matte shades that are popular with traditional goths. Think sparkling inky lip gloss like a night sky, or black nail polish with a lightly galactic twinkle.
š All the sad poetry of our goth forefathers and foremothers that we revere so much, but also a heavy focus on tragic romances and erudite and/or classical stories of forbidden love and murder.
š Guillermo Del Toro. Just like, everything about him. Everything he is.
š A clean mix of the black lace and sweeping skirts the Victorian goths have brought to the table, married to the patches and leather jackets of an 80s London goth. Lots of leather and lace mixes, actually. Consider this.
š Florals on black. All the florals on black.
š Cemetary dates, but not so the world can quiver in awe over how dark you and your love are, just because theyāre pretty and quiet and a good place to talk. Youāll spend hours there walking among the tombstones and trying to piece together the stories of those laid to rest there.
š The music of Jennifer Thomas.
š Privacy, solitude, quiet reflection and occasional random crying. Itās an aesthetique now. Congratulations all, we finally made it a look.
š Tending to a family of crows somewhere until they begin to follow you everywhere, bringing you surprise treats of random shiny bits that they leave on your windowsill in thanks.
š Thatās right people, you heard it here first: weāre bringing back tortured, dramatic vampires and no one is stopping us. And this time, weāre doing it right.
š Some people have guardian angels. Soft goths have guardian demons, hulking winged gargoyle-creatures with gleaming deep-sea eyes who watch over us as we sleep and fall in love with us from afar. Every one is specifically aligned to some concept or element that reflects the personality of their beloved charge - thunderstorms, poetry, poisons and astronomy. They send us dreams that make us think, they inspire us to do things like take up the violin, write a luridly grotesque love story that weāll never share with anyone, to hack into an alexa until it only plays Emilie Autumn and Mary Shelley audio book files. They watch and wait, and when we die, they carry us off to the looming dark castles of our dreams that theyāve spent our lifespans creating for us.
š Accentuating a predominantly black wardrobe with everything but the standard blood red - emerald greens, royal blues, blush pinks, shimmering golds.
š The gentle, weary acceptance that sometimes life hurts a lot, and sometimes people are wretched, and sometimes really means most of the time, and sometimes all you can do about it is turn it into a pinterest board and cry it out.
š Soft, fuzzy black sweaters over high-waisted black jeans and velvet flats until itās literally too damn warm for them anymore.
š Realizing for the first time that someone is just as strange and sad as you, that theyāre the gift your guardian demon sent you to love and take care of you until itās time to go home with them at the end of it all.
š Delicate jewelry made of bones and teeth and tiny bottles.
š The day can be so harsh, burning, unyieldingly bright and demanding. The cool, soft night is where we belong, lacing fingers into someone elseās on an insomniacās walk through silent city streets until a coffee shop rises, glowing like the moon, on the horizon. Exhausted paramedics drink coffee inside, hoping it will distract them from all theyāve seen that night, and the pang of empathy in your chest for all of them.