SomeOtherTime

boo this constant presentation of daphne as a babe. the girl is above that.

oh, i get what you were saying, fitblawrg. by the way, your “email me” doesn’t work. 

yes! thank you, fitblawrg! i assume she is one who took the pic of thylane tying her ballet shoe?

isn’t there a woman—a friend of her mother—who takes most of thylane blonadeau’s (non fashion editorial) pictures? there are so many beautiful but uncredited portrait photos of thylane and it’s driving me crazy. help with a name?

i want to know whose arm is in the photo, Little Lorraine. i am assuming and hoping it is the model’s mother’s?

every other picture in this tack tag does not have to be a The Blue Lagoon still.

VS, please get thefuck away from frida g. she’s ours. 

deepintheloneyheart:

itisnotthename:

you’re watermarking photos that are not yours? if you appreciate the aesthetics of thylane, quit flooding her online presence with photos you’ve butchered. please. 

Thylanes mom sends the owner of missthylaneblondeau private pictures (which most of these photos are) and the tags keep from people stealing and claiming them as their own. I do wish the tags were a little less OUT THERE though. 

ah, thanks for info. but the tags are horrible. people steal/repost them anyway. no one is going to falsely claim they are the photographer because that would be absurd. and they also add their watermark to photos from the editorials of legit publications. she’s such beautiful little girl. wish her mother would send the photos somewhere else. she oughtta post them here instead. 

boo this bondage and tears. she’s still a little girl. though the pink prada pic is otherwise cute. 

please make it so your fall show will stream through apple tv. otherwise you’re nothing. 

it would be nice if Love magazine quit releasing striptease videos of the little models.

Lula magazine needs an editorial with thylane. little dresses. soft jewelry—vc&a! maybe even a cool pair of plastic sunglasses. 

did daphne walk any of the paris couture shows?

european people, please stop posting scans of the new Self Service. i haven’t gotten my copy yet and you’re kinda spoiling it.

thanks

marijuana is ruining brooke’s track tag.

who is the blonde who opened and closed for vera wang s/s 2013?

fuck, finally. girl’s name is nastya kusakina. and she’s walking all over the place this season. 

thylane blondeau made the cover of S Moda magazine! looks like one lameass publication, but certainly isn’t gonna hurt her career. of course people are already calling it controversial—boring!

avoid the leeches; check out sunshine—babe for a tumblr account that shows her respect and appreciation!

“I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man’s child. She could fade and wither - I didn’t care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.”

you girls are misreading this. consider your narrator. humbert’s writing this profession of love over lust from a jail cell. think about how he describes her in this passage. “dead-leaf,” “pale,” “polluted,” “fade,” “wither.” also, in context, “big,” as we know humbert’s taste. that’s the dry, dark humor. “She could fade and wither - I didn’t care.” he is not in love with her. there is no romance in Lolita. her situation is despondent. her name is dolores. she is a child. both of her parents are dead. her little brother is dead. she has been kidnapped. she is being abused. 

“I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.” she’s right there. humbert means the face of the fantasy he projects. he attempts to manipulate her into his sexual object. on several levels. on the page. in his head. and by raping her. 

“…I would use these notes in toto at my trial, to save not my head, of course, but my soul.”

humbert is a delusional sociopath and nabokov is making a twisted joke while examining the form of first-person narration in fiction. read Despair for a clearer—albeit less interesting—example.