As everyone knows, the 'Rusty Bottlecap' aesthetic that Foolproof Studios, as well as other talented designers, have helped to make hugely popular in tribal fusion circles is not only mindbendingly beautiful, but also ... a little confusing, if you haven't been exposed much to it. Since I live in rural Wisconsin instead of  someplace like the Bay area of San Fran, I see more confusion than most people might. So I'll explain it a bit.

I can't say why others love this aesthetic - it's swept the nation, you can see its magical influence everywhere - but I can say why I love it. 

For me, dance and art has been not only a process, but a rescue. A rescuing of one thirty-something, big-nosed housewife without a college degree, but with a huge desire gnawing at her to learn, learn, and do, do. Art, in the form of costume assemblage, and in the form of dance, has given me  a way to explore the world that I never would have dreamed of before this life change. 

In my early adulthood, I was a mom who, in her superreligious right wing fervor (scary, eh?), felt that watching TV or movies, and reading books that weren't by Christian authors wasn't ok. I was encouraged not to look men in the eye, in case they were tempted (something I still have trouble with - both the looking, and the tempting, I suppose ;)). As you can imagine, those types of weird rules + not much cash equaled a boring and restrictive life. Now, see, I love to learn. And I loooove to socialize. And - yes, right wing Christian males - I LOVE TO THINK. And none of these things was happening. For a woman like me, that's like a quiet but very dangerous Mount Vesuvius building up - for years.

I felt thrown aside, mentally, by the men in my life. I was told I couldn't help in church (which, remember, was my only social life) except for in the nursery. And I mean by several different pastors, in several different churches, along with elders etc. The message was clear: I was unintelligent and unable to 'help' with 'real' stuff.  I was  also, confusingly enough, treated like an ornament - and yet, even doing that was wrong to some of them. After all, dressing up might cause them to sin. I mean, they might see my mascara and nylons and have to go jack off in the church bathroom - and you know, that would have been ALL MY FAULT, right? Fuck that. Ridiculous, now that I've thought it through, but it happens all the time to women, and not just in a few right wing Christian churches, but around the world.

So then I tried to be very androgynous. Hey, I'm flat chested, so it was pretty easy. That way no one had to be jealous, turned on, or.... hey, wait a minute - notice me in any way.  I didn't like that so much. My mother raised me to believe that what I said mattered, and apparently when I didn't cause a ruckus by being female, therefore sexy, (whether the sexiness was intentional or not), I didn't matter at all. The sexuality was the only important thing about me, apparently. Needless to say, I got tired of the whole shebang and got a divorce and left the churches I'd been going to. Best thing I ever did. I was free to be intelligent and to decide exactly how I wanted to look, act, and be. I can't even tell you how great that is without practically having an orgasm. Hey, I'm just kidding - or am I?

What does this have to do with costuming, you might say? Everything. When I see a rusty old piece kind of sitting in the corner of a garage sale, that's me. It might be lovely but forgotten. It might be able to have a very different function than the one everyone thinks of when they see it. It might be dirty, or silly, or even ugly the way it is. The main thing that I think I see is that the people surrounding it don't see its value, its possibilities. And I do. It's like rescuing myself all over again every time.

Do you understand now? I'll bet most of you already did, but it's nice to hear someone say it.

And then, for instance, it might become a medallion, or a drape,  for a belt worn by a belly dancer - worn, for example, around hips that have powered this woman (or man)'s journey through life thus far. Those hips may have cradled babies, been the object of desire, received lots of hugs or sex or even abuse - but now they are the focus of every eye in the room. They move, maybe jingle, and everyone watches. They together are an emblem for self confidence gained through dance, an emblem for the dancer to show the world that they are valuable, fabulous, worthy of utmost attention. They are no longer voiceless or cast aside - the salvation of that little antique piece on the belt, possibly the salvation of the hips they rest on, the person those hips belong to. That's what I feel every time I make a piece of costuming assemblage.

A part of someone's Becoming.

So I got this great bunch of elasticized sequins, and I thought I'd make the classic bling-y belly dance headbands. One's totally off the beaten path, with a long glittered tassel and teal feathery focal thingy. One's totally old skool belly dancer, really kind of cabaret - the Jasmine piece (update - sold). And one's flapper 20s, all the way. I love that one the best, and almost kept it for myself. I mean - if it's got Venitian glass fringe on it, I usually fall in love with it.

I'm really in love with more metallic headdresses, but just so tired of making half circlets - blach. But I do think I need to invest in a BUNCH of yummy metal antiques and imported medallions etc, and then check out some of the really, really intricate headdresses of the Ould Nail tribe. Yep. That is the plan.

Check the amount of work that went into this hummer! Purchase HERE

(UPDATE - SOLD)  So continues the saga of the multigenerational belts. Here is a sneak peek of how the next belt sits on the hips, although I am going to dig in there and add a bit more detail (it's already had around 8 hours of hand sewing- just a baby compared to most of the belts we're putting out. It's got a hip-revealing side area, with two off-center points that will come down one leg. From these points drapes a super shiny piece of silver/black, floaty fabric with PERFECT drape. Loads of glittering sequin trim and hand sewn shinies (with more to come), as well. (It will go up in The Gypsy Kiss' shop for $220, unless I decide to add something super expensive to the design. If you want to reserve it, my email is raven@thegypsykiss.com - it can be reserved for at least half down, nonrefundable.) 

So the funny thing is that as a designer, I have hundreds of dollars of  materials in my inventory - trim, vintage laces, vintage appliques, kuchi, beads of iridescent or bone or brass persuasion, flowers, and more... and with Mom working like one of Santa's elves, I'm nearly out. Yes, folks. My coffers are almost empty. She literally leaves my house with shopping bags full of lace and trim. Her tiny 5 foot body slowly trudges out to the car, her head bowed in the deep thoughts that only artists have, oblivious to anything else but driving home and getting her hands on a sewing needle. I always underestimate her. I figure she'll come back with the nice, simple design we'd decided on before she left. She comes back with that mofo COVERED in glitz and sequins and venitian glass fringe - sometimes more than one kind, and layered. It makes me laugh every time. Genius.

Skirt by the illustrious Dusty Paik.

So, I've been designing and creating the belts together with my Mom. My Mom is a fascinating person. She's 70-something, she's a fabulous oil painter (coming from a long line of artists), a feminist, and she might be less than 5 feet tall. Coming from North Dakota, from a German family, and a Lutheran background - well, I'll just say that these things add up. But deep inside her chest beats the heart of a girl who wanted to run away and join the circus. She was a majorette in a town that never had one before - she just made up the baton stuff as she went along. She practiced in her backyard on a little pipe strung from a tree, so she could one day master the flying trapeze.

So these belts are her, coming from those worlds, with those desires, coming to terms with me being a belly dancer and belly dance costume designer. That little artist threw caution to the wind and has so far created some of the most breathtaking professional costume belts I've ever laid eyes on. 

All I can say is this... next I'm teaching her to finish bras. Full on bedlah, people.

In these photos, the bra is by me, and the belt is (mostly) by my mother, Marsie Danielson.

I've been through a lot, like you, I'll bet - and I've learned that you have to set your imagination free. Allow yourself to pretend, to let parts of yourself shine in the light, and remember your value not just as someone who serves the needs of your family or community, but also as someone who is amazing and juicy and crazy-fabulous all on your own. 

I want to be a catalyst, to awaken and sensitize people to the wonder that's all around them and inside of them every day.