#mary howe

[voguefashion]

“Pink is the new black” - Diana Vreeland

Thomas Gainsborough, Mary, Countess Howe, c. 1764.

Marilyn Monroe wearing a pink satin strapless gown with an oversized bow attached at back, designed by William Travilla for the "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best friend" number from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953).

Vogue Paris, December 1964.

Jackie Kennedy wearing a Pink Chanel suit on the day of her husbands assassination in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963.

Margot Robbie on the set of Barbie.

Shirley MacLaine in a gown by Edith Head for What a Way to Go! (1964).

Brigitte Bardot wearing the famous pink and white gingham dress with a Peter Pan collar made of English lace, specially designed for her by Jacques Esterel on her wedding day to Jacques Charrier on June 18th 1959.

Reese Witherspoon wearing the pink leather 'driving suit' in Legally Blonde (2001), designed by Sophie de Rakoff.

Barbara Cartland the "Queen of Romance" fiction was often dressed in a pink chiffon gown.

"A brave new pink that accepts the challenge of the blazing summer sun." Elizabeth Arden "Arden Pink" advertisement in American Vogue, April 15, 1959.

Princess Diana wearing a pink sweater and pink and white gingham pants at her home at Highgrove, Gloucestershire, 1986.

Model Suzy Parker in the "Think Pink!" number from Funny Face (1957), costume designed by Edith Head.

Valentino Garavani Tan-Go Platform Pump in Patent Leather 155mm in Rose Violet.

Molly Ringwald wearing the 'prom dress' designed by Marilyn Vance in Pretty in Pink (1986).

[softhe4rted]

i knew you before we met

tegan and sara, nineteen / emery allen, become / li-young-lee, i loved you before i was born / céline sciamma, portrait of a lady on fire / mary howe, walking home from magdalene / joanne kenrick / @cruellesummer, phoebe bridgers, punisher / sandra cisneros, dulzura

[wintryblight]

hi, could you share more poems on grief? <3

of course! thank you for your request & i hope you enjoy reading these poems. my previous compilation of grief-themed poems can be found here. making these compilations made me realise how much of the poetry i love is about grief & loss.

Mary Howe, “What the Living Do” | I am living. I remember you.

Victoria Chang, “OBIT [The Blue Dress]” | Grief is / wearing a dead person’s dress forever.

Ada Limón, “The Carrying” | How my own body, empty, / clean of secrets, knows how to carry her, / knows we were all meant for something.

Richard Brostoff, “Grief” | You hold an absence / at your center, / as if it were a life.

Richard Siken, “The Worm King’s Lullaby” | He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand. He was / dead anyway

Laura Villareal, “The Long Trajectory of Grief” | I pretend not to notice / your absence— how my car isn’t spiced with your oakmoss / & mint anymore.

Dunya Mikhail, “Tablets II” | The pomegranate seeds / scattered with our steps / were not from heaven.

[oumaimas]

Excerpt from What the Living Do, Mary Howe (transcript under the cut)

For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it. Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless: I am living. I remember you.

[the-other-voice]

“I liked Hell, I liked to go there alone relieved to lie in the wreckage, ruined, physically undone. The worst had happened. What else could hurt me then? I thought it was the worst, thought nothing worse could come. Then nothing did, and no one.”

- Mary Howe, Magdalene: The Addict

[oumaimas]

The Copper Beech, Mary Howe (transcript under the cut)

Immense, entirely itself, it wore that yard like a dress, with limbs low enough for me to enter it and climb the crooked ladder to where I could lean against the trunk and practice being alone. One day, I heard the sound before I saw it, rain fell darkening the sidewalk. Sitting close to the center, not very high in the branches, I heard it hitting the high leaves, and I was happy, watching it happen without it happening to me.

[lesser-known-composers]

Mary Howe (1882-1964)

[lesser-known-composers]

Mary Howe (1882-1964) - Violin Sonata (1962)

I. Allegro ma non troppo 0:00 II. Lento recitativo 9:31 III. Allegro non troppo 14:53

Laura Talbott-Clark · Pi-Ju Chiang