my18thcenturysource:

garrulus:

livia-carica:

jellyfishleggs:

piraterogue:

xombiebrains:

rugessnome:

thestraggletag:

awed-frog:

Hey, do you know that feeling of hitching up a long skirt so you don’t fall on your face when walking upstairs, and then you immediately become a wretched yet resolute Jane Austen character? It’s a universal thing, right?

It’s like resting a laundry basket against your hip and suddenly you’re a long-suffering peasant woman, wondering if you’ll survive the winter.

a shawl wrapped around the shoulders and you’re wandering the moors in a Brönte novel, feeling melancholic

Looking out the window at the rain and you’re a love-stricken newlywed wondering when your husband will return from the war.

Long skirt billowing behind you while to go down the stairs, you’re a proper Lady in a flowing ball gown being introduced at a fancy social function.

Hair blowing in the wind and suddenly you’re hovering on a cliff by the sea, staring out into the waves and praying your merchant husband will return from his voyage across the ocean

Hood up against the rain and wind and you’re a medieval abbess defying the weather and travelling on foot with your people to find a place to establish a new community.

Wiping your hands on your apron and you’re an 18th century kitchen girl rushing to let in the delivery boy you secretly love.

Accurate AF