30. Solstice of the Soul
Wrapping up the past year with a neat, pretty bow.
“January pitches her voice over the noise: last year's ghosts are dead, that's reason enough to celebrate.”
by Angela Lowes
Looking to honour your magpie instincts this year, or just daydream about the new year? Good news! The White Lily Society has paired with stickitbby for an exclusive discount on their 13/01 collage club event, 7-9:30pm, at 1 Finsbury Road! Use code “thewhitelilysociety” for 10% off your tickets here ☆
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01/01/2026, London, UK
My dear,
Yet another year has slipped through the cracks. Twelve months said and done, onto the next one. The years pass by in quiet succession: a funeral march and a wedding aisle, both lined with white lilies, of course. Just like that there are new thresholds to step over. But January is the month of hope and quiet agonies; a searching for the well that spawns them. Fresh hell, not this old hell1, goodbye to the familiar inferno! What a joy it is to be beginning again. No resolutions, but only focused intent. The kind so intense that it burns white-hot and glowing. This is my year of seduction, a natural follow-up to my year of devotion. Unwrapping the altar of the self, set out with candles and incense and offerings. Praise Dionysus!
The first letter of the year is always an exception to the status quo, just to throw you off your feet a little. Shake things up. The hero[ine] never gets the worst thrown at them right away, my dear. The horrors have to build up slowly. But first, there is courtship. Lavish banquets, endless choice, splendour not yet spoiled. Baby steps. Seduction builds. Thus, this letter is not filled with research, but with recommendations. Complaints should be addressed to yours truly and then promptly buried in the soil, so they may outlast your potential disapproval. This is not the work of half-slumber, I promise; there is a difficulty unknown in looking back. Wrapping up the past year with a neat, pretty bow. We will return to our regular programming in due time.
With one foot into 2026, you are in good company, my dear, and a much more substantial one at that! The White Lily Society ended the year strong with almost 1300 subscribers, doubling our numbers over the last month. That’s something worth a heartfelt note of gratitude, so thank you. I’m sending courteous kisses from my attic all the way to wherever you are. Now, let us return our gaze to the past.
‧₊˚🖇️ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚💌⊹⋆｡𖦹 ° This newsletter contains the following sections:
I. Archive Sources // II. Past Year Favourites ‘25: books, shows, films, video games & music (including yearly wrap-up playlist!) // III. Ins and Outs (and ‘26 moodboard) // “On the List” January // Outro
I. Archive Sources
“Last night I had her in bed with me—tossed my bedclothes hugger-mugger—wound my hot and tight-clasped hands about her—fused her body and soul together with my own—poured into her my spirit, breath and strength. Anyone who touches her now commits adultery and incest! She is mine, and I am hers. And have her I will.…”
from a letter by Henry Fuseli (1779)
Behold, a restored section I, assorted reading on whatever strikes my fancy. I admit, I have been lackadaisical in supplemental readings, but no more! Consider this an official declaration of intent— I have plans to restore the White Lily Society’s official archive to its full glory. Lofty goals for a day that is not yet here. For now, a scheduled return to the Romantic and the dreamy. I started my new year with fresh apple pastries2, a Dionysian ritual, and the opening pages of a history of seduction, after all. Time to put these sentiments to use…
“Forsaken Women: the Voice of Frustrated Female Desire” - link
The mournful feminine is a trope quite close to my heart, for better or worse. Oh, that beloved ancient archetype of languishing beauty and grief, as striking as ever. This paper looks at the motifs of feminine lament, specifically focusing on the myths of Arachne and Dido, which the author argues represent subclasses of the “abandoned woman” trope. It looks at what it calls a “slightly perverse interest in grief”, and the environment which produced it. Namely, the ubiquitous masculine-viewpoint of early literature, which places the feminine strictly in the subject form. The paper then produces a lot of feminine writing of abandoned women that escapes this canon, effectively pioneering writing about women’s desire in the active case. A case study in inhabiting the voice that was once only utilised as melody.
“The two heroines reveal the beginnings of a split in the figure of the forsaken woman. Ariadne, weak, mournful, obsessed with her own desolate condition and presented as the beautiful embodiment of grief, develops into the sentimental deserted maiden. Dido, strong, aggressive, tormented by a complexity of emotion and presented as the fiery embodiment sexual desire, becomes the abandoned woman, the woman abandoned not only by a lover but also to her emotions.”
“Desire's Dreams: Power and Passion in "Wuthering Heights"” - link
I’ll never tire of reading new interpretations of “Wuthering Heights” (1847), enveloped as it is in seemingly never-ending layers of nuance and depth. Like a Rorschach test, everybody sees something else. There is always a new corner to turn, new moors to wander about, new opinions to take in. This concise paper specifically talks about Emily Brontë’s novel in terms of fairytales, desire, and childhood dreams. It argues that, in grasping onto Cathy, and later, the interrupted fantasy of Cathy, Heathcliff has actually attempted to hold onto a youthful ideal in which these things were not yet interrupted, seemed more attainable; mimetic ideals of identity and its prescribed assets. It’s a fascinating take, and one I thoroughly enjoyed reading.
“And this triumph over adulthood turns [“Wuthering Heights”], finally, into a Victorian childhood nightmare that uses the traditions of the ghost story, Gothic, fairytale, nightmare, and romance-genres that do not demand obedience to the conventions of realistic fiction—to show the horror of eternal childhood: Heathcliff, like a demonic Peter Pan, obsessed with childhood desires that result in death.”
“Speeches for Doctor Frankenstein” by Margaret Atwood - link
It is not often that I link to poetry in the Archive Sources, but with the recent “Frankenstein” revival fuelled by Guillermo del Toro’s new 2025 film, I simply must veer off course and break the pattern. This gorgeous poem by Margaret Atwood is sparse yet winding, building up with surgical precision the tale of the abandoned son and father drunk on creation. It loosely recounts the story of the novel, focusing on the scalpel as it meets the skin. Confrontation with the consequences of our actions. A cutting piece of verse for the most delicate of months.
“He glows and says: // Doctor, my shadow / shivering on the table, / you dangle on the leash / of your own longing; / your need grows teeth. // You sliced me loose / and said it was / Creation. I could feel the knife.”
II. Past Year Favourites ‘25
“I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences, attics explored in solitude, distant noises of gurgling cisterns and pipes, and the noise of wind under the tiles. Also, of endless books.”
by C.S. Lewis, from “Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life” (1955)
In the landscape of increasingly lofty, outrageous goals of consumption, I simply have no wish to contribute. This, my dear, is a safe zone of intention. I will forever maintain that the best aspiration is the one that stretches, but doesn’t exhaust you. “Consumption” should not be a goal in and of itself; the very word reeks of needless devourance. It implies only the nutritional value absorbed, if any at all. Rather, one should read, watch, taste. Reducing activities to the swallowing, the unconscious digestion, the emptying of the shelf, is pointless. That is to say, I believe I am over setting nonsensical goals for myself this year. They seem to do little more than fuzz up the edges of my mind and produce anxiety. Not the delicious kind (anticipation), but the unfavourable kind (distress).
With my best intentions, I spent a lot of last year feeling like I was falling behind on some arbitrary number of books I wished to read. Only a part of this is rooted in a real anxiety; the reality of just how many things one would like to read, as opposed to how many one can read, in a given lifetime. I started roughly forty-five books in 2025, and finished twenty-six of them. (That is a nasty little habit of mine, digging through chapters for my own writing and not sitting down to read the whole book. But I digress…) Despite the clawing feeling of ineffectiveness, I did actually read more than I did last year. Six thousand pages in 2024, and eight thousand in 2025. Most importantly, I processed more of those pages than ever before into my writing. A small aid in the war against fuzziness!
As a result, I’ve discussed a great deal of my following favourite reads in the newsletter already over the past year. Considering how many of you are new here, I am hoping to get away with it, just this once. So, allow me to pick my six favourites, and introduce (or re-introduce) them to you now, in no particular order, followed by six of my favourite tv-shows, six of my favourite films, and some other miscellaneous relics. A sumptuous catalogue, just for you.
II.I Favourite Books
“Dracula” by Bram Stoker (1897)
Please, put down the pitchfork, my dear. Pray the jury finds me innocent at last. Here is the evidence, meant to redeem: despite my (well documented) inclinations, and owning five (mainly gifted) copies, I had never set foot in Stoker’s original story until this year. My journey with it began in May, as the book does, and ended in December, a month past the story’s expiration. At times, the two of us moved in near-perfect synchrony, the choreography prescribed with punctuality. In August, I climbed the 199 steps up to the Abbey in Whitby, the day before Lucy was scheduled to sleepwalk up them, to the beginning of her doom. We could have been on opposite sides of a mirror; night and day, awake and asleep, alive and soon-to-be-dead. The effect was an added inevitability; the story played out like a prophecy. Enchanting and dark, the perfect fare for a fellow somnambulist.
“We Have Always Lived in the Castle” by Shirley Jackson (1962)
The Gothic classics are always presumed to be from centuries long gone, but here is an oddity from the recent 60s that is well worth your attention. “We Have Always Lived in the Castle” is a Gothic fairytale about family trauma, tradition, and class, narrated by the weird Mary Katherine Blackwood, or “Merricat”. She recounts her daily life in isolation with her sister Constance and disabled uncle Julian, goes about her odd superstitions and traditions, and reflects on her family’s untimely death by poisoning. All throughout, there is a strong, unsettling and strange undertone, not just in the story’s narrator, but in its events. Mobs descend on homes in a period that feels neither here nor there, characters speak in jumbled Freudian-slip-speak, and the world is read through layers of childlike surrealism. Undoubtedly a novel that will stay with me for a long time to come.
“Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead” by Olga Tokarczuk (translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones) (2009)
I picked this book up on a whim for my summer getaway secluded in the misty Swiss Alps, eager for something to read that would move the mountains within me. This winner of the Nobel prize for literature centres on Janina Duszejko, an eccentric elderly woman living in a secluded Polish village, who gets intrigued by a string of murdered local hunters. As the novel unwraps, more of Janina’s oddities get involved, as well as William Blake poetry, astrology, and the ethics of hunting. An odd mix perhaps, but all the more effective for it. This is a chilling, strange novel, with a unique blend of surrealism and realism, like a fairytale of bureaucracy and public opinion. Wolves in sheep’s clothing and complaints of minor ailments dance next to one another; Tokarczuk’s writing has a lot to say, but prefers to approach subtly, wrapped in a thick coat of mysticism. A gorgeous novel, wholly deserving of the praise.
“Carmilla” by Sheridan Le Fanu (1872)
Returning to the vampires, “Carmilla” is actually the Count’s predecessor by twenty-five years! This sapphic vampire classic is deemed such for all the right reasons; it is a sensual story of obsession and danger, drenched in Gothic atmosphere, and constructed with the use of that familiar beautiful nineteenth century prose we all know and love. It’s a short work, roughly ninety pages, but all the more precious for it. There is something very sweet about Carmilla’s affections towards Laura, tainted as they are with the sinister truth of her nature as a vampire, though that only increases the Romantic effects. More tragic as they are met with oblivious, flustered questioning on the mortal side of the equation. But everlasting on the pages of a new all-time favourite book, immortal.
“But to die as lovers may— to die together, so that they may live together. Girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes […]”
by Sheridan Le Fanu, from “Carmilla” (1872), p68
“I, Julian” by Claire Gilbert (2023)
I still curse my missing out on the British Library’s “Medieval Women” exhibition— due to no fault but my own. At the very least, the misfortune brought a gorgeous book my way. “I, Julian” is a loose, fictionalised recollection of anchoress Julian of Norwich’ life, written in the first person. Like Julian’s act of inhabiting the anchorhold she was sealed into, the book attempts to inhabit Julian. The style is sparse but poetic, cutting right to the heart of things. Julian’s teachings, after all, were all about the love of Christ; about closeness to God; the maternal underpinnings of our relationship with Him. Author Claire Gilbert has a way of translating these revelations into fictional prose with cutting accuracy: “This thing of pain and love that is being born is its own truth and nothing can explain it except itself. There is only this light. I am at the doorway of death and all I see is Jesu, crucified, alight.” (p110)
“the Bone Season” by Samantha Shannon (author’s preferred text, 2024)
The day I was devouring “the Bone Season” was the day I spent seven hours reading, continuing well into the early hours, bleeding into the next day. A testament to Samantha Shannon’s addictive novel, the first instalment in what will eventually be a six book saga. For now, four of those are already out to read. More than enough to get your eager, grubby little paws on. Devoid of any spoilers, the premise of the series is intricate enough; in a world where clairvoyance and the aether are real, the oppressive regime of Scion is waging war on the “unnaturals”. We follow Paige Mahoney, an Irish clairvoyant of the highest order (a “dreamwalker”), through the streets of a Victorian steampunk London, and beyond. The series is dense with a daunting amount of terminology and lore, layered world-building, and a great ensemble cast. In lieu of repeating my more extensive review, I can only say that its escapism and mystery were something I very much appreciated in my life last year.
II.II Favourite Shows
“Yellowjackets” (2021-)
Perhaps my worst choice for a plane rewatch ever, “Yellowjackets” (2021-) focuses on a girl’s soccer team as their plane crashes in the Canadian wilderness on their way to nationals. The dire situation, paired with a series of odd occurrences, fuels a continuing spiral of superstition and cult-like group dynamics in the girls, who will resort to almost anything, it turns out, to survive. On the other hand, the (more underwhelming) present day timeline follows a few of the surviving girls, now adult women, as their wilderness-drunk antics mysteriously come back to haunt them. It’s part crime drama, and part maenad revelry, certainly enough to keep anyone hooked despite the occasional lulls in the plot. The scarier atmosphere in season 1 is especially near and dear to my heart, and spawned my “doomcoming” Lottie Matthews Halloween costume.
“Penny Dreadful” (2014-2016), S1
A whole menagerie of monsters and Victorian tropes weaves itself together in “Penny Dreadful” (2014-2016); the likes of “Dracula” (1897), “the Picture of Dorian Gray” (1890), and “Frankenstein” (1818) join stories of werewolves, possession, and seances. Exactly up my (dark and frightening) metaphorical alley, my dear. In 1891, a group of misfits search for a renowned explorer Malcolm Murray’s daughter Mina, who was taken by none other than the vampire Dracula himself. From that simple premise, the plot branches and blooms in a multitude of different directions. The cast and atmosphere are both outstanding; Eva Green takes the spotlight as the haunted and spiritual Vanessa Ives, but Rory Kinnear also gives a fantastic performance as Frankenstein’s Creature— surely one of the best depictions of the Creature, keeping all that poetic brooding wholly intact, albeit in a less gentle package than Jacob Elordi’s recent interpretation.
“True Blood” (2008-2014), S1-2
Addictive television probably found its early tenets in “True Blood” (2008-2014). This HBO original (based on a series of books) about a telepathic waitress in a world where vampires have “come out of the coffin” is truly delectable in its early seasons. The show contains traces of predecessor “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (1997-2003) and successor “the Vampire Diaries” (2009-2017) in its love triangle and season-long story structure, but in true HBO fashion, with its own exceptionally r-rated, bloody philosophy. I’m up to season 4 now, but season 1 and 2 have the best balance of comedy and drama, if you ask me. The season 2 villain being a maenad was a particularly inspired choice, and one I could absolutely get behind as a fellow Dionysus devotee.
“Castlevania” (2017-2021), S1-2
The animated adaptation of the “Castlevania” (1986-) video game series is a rare case of video game adaptation done right. Animation is not usually my foray, I must admit, but this show’s combination of style and moody, Gothic atmosphere really did it for me, my dear. Though the show borrows from Bram Stoker’s mythos (and other vampire legends), it also manages to establishes its own unique story and identity: after Count Dracula’s mortal wife is burned at the stake for witchcraft, he wages war on humanity, campaigning for their eventual extinction. After a year of massacre, the sole heir to a family of monster hunters, a nomadic mage, and Dracula’s own son come together to put an end to the bloodshed. More than worth the watch for its gorgeous animation, succinct storytelling, and for the joy that is Alucard’s character.
and 6… Absolutely… NOTHING
[This pathetic drought of material for my yearly wrap-up can largely be attributed to the fact that my beloved Blackberry Hill House did not have internet for exactly fifty-two (!) days while I tried to escape my tumultuous relationship with my previous broadband provider. In the end, I had to admit defeat and return, begging. Turns out the realm of cables is still largely beyond my understanding. Better luck next time!]
Now, watching films is not something I tend to feel anxious about: here is one goal I tend to over-deliver on without much friction— due in part because Blackberry Hill House is a community cinema at this point. The joy of a DVD collection as expansive as mine is in giving them a spin, no? In 2025, I watched eighty-three films, fifty of which were first introductions to my precious retinas. My most watched theme according to Letterboxd was “Horror, the undead, and monster classics”, and my most watched nano-genre “Horror, villain, dark”. Thematically appropriate, I suppose.
II.III Favourite Films
“Dracula” (1931)
The more I watch them, the more I realise how strongly my heart beats for any films made in the 1930s to 1950s. Perhaps it is the stillness of the black and white frame, the jagged edges of the film craft visible in painted backgrounds and crude effects, or a method of cinematography long forgotten. That is how this black and white spot on the favourites list became much contested. Between Alfred Hitchcock’s 1940 drama “Rebecca”, haunting drama “the Innocents” (1961), and the classic “Dracula” (1931), I settled, ultimately, on the latter film. There’s something really poignant about returning to the scene of the crime in a way; seeing the film that established pop culture mythology. Lugosi’s Count is menacing, and a bit goofy. At times he truly feels like a figure detached from humanity, now ascended into legend.
“House of Tolerance” (2011)
It’s hard to tell you why I enjoyed this film so much, my dear, without ruining the effect. This French film about a luxurious brothel and its girls is sensual, and hard to pin down to just one genre, one standpoint, one moral core. It took me completely by surprise, sitting in the well-decorated attic of a pub, both so erotic and [redacted]… Normally, I do not care much to keep an iron grip on spoilers, but this film is the exception to the rule. Truly, I wish to tell you more, but I fear that your first viewing should be as blind as possible. Open your mind to champagne baths and pet panthers, and wait for the rest to come to you3.
“the Others” (2001)
“the Others” is another exception to my rules, my dear. Not many films are able to illicit such an intensely frightful reaction in me, without any gore, body horror, or jump scares in its repertoire… Just a slowly building dread, utilised with a twisted sparsity that only heightens its effect. The film is a psychological horror film about Grace Stewart (Nicole Kidman), who lives in a big, isolated house together with her two children, who have an extreme sensitivity to light. Soon, curtains and doors are being left open, potentially endangering the children, and with the staff solemnly swearing ignorance Grace becomes convinced that the house is haunted. From there, the film twists and turns, utilising silence and space in its frame to allow for the viewer to invite fear in. Just like Grace, we may or may not be imagining the things we see, the things we hear, and the things we fear lurk in the shadows of the film’s narrative. The only way to find out is to go and investigate, be a good host to what scares us most.
“Repo! the Genetic Opera” (2008)
Sorry for the complete tonal shift, my dear. This one is due to induce a bit of whiplash. Regardless, allow me to sell you this absolutely insane movie: it’s a rock-opera about organ repossession and plastic surgery addicts, with Giles from “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (1997-2003) and goth Paris Hilton. Yes, this was my contribution to movie night at a dear friend’s house, and I am afraid I have now established my reputation for most insane (but successful!) film suggestions in a row (especially for suggesting this after “the Brothers Grimm”, 2005). This is a pure so-bad-it’s-sort-of-good recommendation, entertaining until the very end. We certainly couldn’t stop laughing for most of its runtime. It’s the Evanescence “Fallen” (2003) album cover come to life in film form, it’s campy and theatrically gory, it’s a highly stylised fever dream. Loves it. It’s really quite a shame that the soundtrack got removed from streaming recently.
“Behind Convent Walls” (1987)
There is a very big chance you have seen director Walerian Borowczyk’s work without knowing it. Stills of his hazy, fairytale-esque visuals, shot on film with gorgeous cinematography, do the rounds every few months on various social media. You’d be forgiven for not divinely intuiting his films’ risqué subject matter, my dear. It is more often shallowly treated as a demerit to his work, rather than the point of it. Personally, I adore aspects of Borowczyk’s style, which is neither wholly pornography nor wholly art film— rather he blends the two, to varying degrees of success throughout his filmography. Out of the three films of his I have watched (“the Beast”, 1975, “Immoral Tales”, 1973, and “Behind Convent Walls”, 1987), I felt “Behind Convent Walls” blended all these elements to the best effect; the result is sensual and erotic, beautiful to watch, but also has something to say about the needless suppression of human sexuality (especially feminine sexuality). The tale of this unraveling Italian convent almost has a taste of fairytale allegory to it, and the visuals only contribute to this enchanting effect.
“Don’t Bother to Knock” (1952)
Marilyn Monroe shines in this moody, almost noir-esque film about a pilot (“Jed”) who starts dating a babysitter (“Nell”) in the hotel where he lives… All is fine and dandy, until Nell starts to believe Jed is actually her deceased pilot boyfriend. Starting out relatively light-hearted, the film begins to build up darkness. For the 1950’s, the portrayal of Nell’s mental health is actually handled quite well— a fantastic Letterboxd user describes the plot as a parable about America’s post-WWII trauma. With this in mind, the film’s plot essentially becomes a call against the continued ignorance and/or repression of said trauma. It is a grasp for understanding and empathy in trying times, cleverly disguised in a pinch of comedy and a pinch of drama. Monroe’s stellar performance also helps to round Nell’s character out; alternating between glamorous, delusional, tender, panicked, and anxious she adds layers and depth to what could have been a much more tone-deaf portrayal, and instead makes the film a surprisingly enjoyable watch.
Now, my dear, these final miscellaneous favourites presented a definite challenge. Unlike last year, I haven’t sank my teeth into one single video game like I did with “Bloodborne” (2015). My time was spent largely on that game’s DLC “the Old Hunters” (2015), as well as dabbling in the likes of “Dark Souls 3” (2016), “Silent Hill 2” (remake, 2024), an emulated version of “Haunting Ground” (2005), “Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate” (2015), and the odd re-install of “Genshin Impact” (2020) in anticipation of Columbina’s release. Not to mention my frustrating and yet unfulfilling trysts with “Elden Ring” (2022). Being good at one difficult video game is not enough, it seems. One must learn the dance anew with every new iteration.
As for this year’s favourite exhibition, I’d be foolish not to pick the Bodleian Library’s “Omens, Oracles and Answers” exhibition, which I attended in Oxford in April. It was a fantastic collection of material related to the act of diving, soothsaying, and prophesying, collecting all manner of methods from tarot cards to palmistry, from dream hotels to spider divination. Me and my dear friend Anna de Waal took a train down from London for the day, just to submerge in the business of seeing. We ate blackberries on our journey, drifted through a handful of churches, and made our way back to mine just in time for me to host an “eroticism” themed gathering at mine. No, I will not elaborate any further. Don’t be greedy, my dear.
As always, my Spotify wrapped4 painted the yearly sobering picture of my music consumption… Yes, the rumours are true, my dear, I am a 0.4% top Sabrina Carpenter listener. What can I say? I enjoy terrorising my neighbours singing along just as much as I adore my dark beats and gloomy soundtracks. On my most bipolar days I will alternate the “Bloodborne” (2015) soundtrack with miss Carpenter. Luckily, my top genres were “alternative pop”, “indie rock”, “darkwave”, “rock”, and “southern Gothic”, so I suppose I’m not entirely beyond metaphorical saving *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
This year I felt like I really found my sonic footing, rooted deeply in the “shoegaze” genre; guitar-heavy, dreamlike, romantic, atmospheric, and a little goth at times. As a result, I attended eleven concerts5, shattering my previous record of seven. I had been meaning to go to more small gigs, using the concert as a vehicle for a deeper exploration of the artist’s discography. That is how I fell in love with “Cryogeyser”, my favourite new sonic discovery of the year. Prior to buying my ticket for their gig at the Windmill in Brixton, I knew exactly one (1) song by them, but while eagerly studying their setlist in the months leading up to the concert I discovered just how ethereal their sound really is. Favourites include “Marie”, “Hive”, and “Too Much”.
Perhaps it is simply recency bias, but it seems my most beloved album of the year is always a later release. For a while, it seemed Ethel Cain’s “Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You” would take the title… Until October 17th, that is. It was a busy day for my music sphere: Florence and the Machine, the Last Dinner Party, and Maggie Lindemann all released new albums. The latter, “I feel everything” went triple platinum at Blackberry Hill House in a matter of days. Lindemann’s early EP “Paranoia” and first album “SUCKERPUNCH” had the same effect for their infectious pop-rock and pop-punk influenced sound, though 2024 follow-up “HEADSPLIT” to me felt to be stuck in a strange limbo, caught between the earlier sound and an electro-dance inspired direction. It was a deeply flawed record, stuck in a tug of war between directions, though with its own high moments (lead single “hostage” still managed to be my most-played track last year). “I feel everything” drops this tension in favour of a straight-up darkwave, dance, and electronic infused sound. It’s catchy while still honouring Lindemann’s emotionally vulnerable and moody songwriting. Favourite tracks include “it’s still you”, “split”, and “lost cause”, though I frequently just put the entire record on repeat.
Finally, some selected listening from the past year, including some of my top songs, some of my personal favourites, and a few just to get the vibe across:
Baby, Let’s Play House - Elvis Presley || 2. Still Blue - Sunday (1994) || 3. Hurt - Mareux || 4. Marie - Cryogeyser || 5. Tempest - Ethel cain || 6. Black Milk - Massive Attack || 7. Drown - Strange Boutique || 8. Ringleader - Public Memory || 9. it’s still you - Maggie Lindemann ft. Max Fry || 10. Sad Beautiful Tragic - Taylor Swift || 11. Other Side - NewDad || 12. Perfect Blue - Softcult || 13. the Mysterious Vanishing of Electra - Anna von Hausswolff
III. Ins and Outs
“I had learned early to assume something dark and lethal hidden at the heart of anything I loved. When I couldn’t find it, I responded, bewildered and wary, in the only way I knew how: by planting it there myself.”
by Tana French, from “In the Woods” (2007)
The yearly “ins” and “outs” list is a tradition, needing no further introduction. For my third iteration of it, I will not waste words where none are needed. The same goes for a moodboard: the good ones speak for themselves. You are free to take what you like, and leave the rest, my dear ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
[IN] Workshopping the self (eg. voice, posture, vocabulary) || Living like a luxury courtesan || Refining your vision through action (!) || Nosebleeds, bruises, cuts || Sleepwalking || Eroticism and glamour photography || Monograms on everything || A commitment to lingerie, every day || Socialising with strangers || Fairytale gothic || Sweetness, tenderness, grace || Horror video game protagonists || Intersection of Love and Violence (always in!)
[OUT] Sleepwalking (through life); numbness || Not wearing your retainers… || The learned helplessness epidemic || Starting your day at 3pm (et up earlier OR commit to nocturnal life) || Tolerating any conversations about generative AI || Moral panic, prescribed prudishness || Inauthentic music curation || Gender essentialism framed as spirituality || “It’s not that deep” || Safeguarding some imagined fragility || Substack articles or “essays” that could have been a Pinterest board instead || Self-conscious performance (it should be indulgent!) || The mice in my home (hopefully)
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* On the List *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
Exhibitions, Events, and Talks. The whole world is slowly getting back on its feet, starting to wake up for the new year, and the event world is no exception. Therefore, this letter’s selections are understandably few in number. If “w” words are your thing, Treadwells is combining witchcraft and winter for their “Winter Witchcraft Workshop” and “Winter Home Blessings Workshop”, both on the 14th, and sure to be spell-binding. Burlesque fans have something to be enchanted by as well, as Dita von Teese’s new show “Nocturnelle” opens at the London Palladium on the 29th.
In an exciting turn of events, Cramer Street gallery is hosting an extended residency with the White Lily Society’s sister collective Ethereal Maison, with events “reclaiming ancestral queer and feminine energies” on January 9th, 17th, 24th, 30th, and 31st— tickets are available via the gallery’s Instagram page.
☆ Finally, I’d like to reiterate that the White Lily Society has paired with stickitbby on Instagram for an exclusive discount on their collage event taking place on the 13th of January. You can use code “thewhitelilysociety” for 10% off your tickets here
Film, Music, and TV. As always, London is ripe with re-releases of classic and cult cinema. Choice picks include "Showgirls" (1995) on January 10th, "Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust" (2000) on the 17th, and "the Handmaiden" (2016) on the the 18th, all at the Prince Charles Cinema— though I personally have recently renewed my BFI membership and shall thus be making use of their streaming service instead. A good gift recommendation to keep in mind for next holiday season, perhaps.
In terms of music, Canadian grunge band “softcult” is due to release their debut album “When a Flower Doesn’t Grow” on the 30th of January, promising an intriguing blend of shoegaze and riot grrrl sounds judging off of prior singles like “16/25”, “Pill to Swallow”, and “Naive”. Additionally, Erin LeCount will be releasing her eagerly anticipated single “I Believe” this Friday the 9th! Good news for everybody else who, like me, has been listening to the snippets on repeat.
Obsessive Tendencies: What I’ve Loved Lately
Uniqlo, HEATTECH Extra Warm Cashmere Blend Turtleneck in “Black”, [The cold is no joke; either layer up or feel the frost inhabit yourself], £19.90
Agent Provocateur, “Fia” thong, [I wasn’t kidding about daily black lace lingerie on the “ins” list, my dear], on sale for £20
Anna von Hausswolff, “Dead Magic” on vinyl, [Experimental organ music and drone, perfect for your next ecstatic dance ritual], £29.99 at HMV
Fresh, Kombucha Facial Treatment Essence, [I am truly devastated to say this is a brilliant toner alternative after getting the sample… I bought a full-sized bottle], £76 (150ml)
MAC, Squirt Pumping Gloss Stick in “Jet”, [A gorgeous subtle goth gloss for the slightly macabre lip combo of my dreams], on sale for £17.60
Funko, Ghostface keychain, [Halloween is never over in this household, which means the a little knife-wielding Ghostface is the ideal bag charm], £6.99
“We seem to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways; into a whole world of dark and dreadful things.”
by Bram Stoker, from “Dracula” (1897)
Though I am only moving halfway through February, the preparation is already creeping up on me like a thorny vine. This attic of mine is coated in dust and surrounded by a thick layer of briars, in desperate need of trimming lest I be unable to make my escape in the month of love. A tarot reader told of good fortune for the new house; something to hold onto amidst the decluttering of my life and mind. So much of us is stored in our possessions, my dear. The house is a museum of the self. Though I suppose the mice are doing me a favour in their recent activity, endearing me to the prospect of abandoning this home I cohabitate in with them. Just a few days ago I was reading on the couch when one of them popped their little head out, asking for some sugar to borrow. I respectfully declined.
Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly love the bleakness of a combined winter and complete uprooting of my life. I sneak off with crumbs of despair into dark corners, savouring the taste all on my own. Secret indulgence. That is the best survival strategy I can offer you, my dear, to inhabit yourself to your fullest potential. Nothing will change if you continue to wear a coat of shame. Instead of suffocating in the bins of high school clothes I intend to donate, I will tie them together into a rope, and lower myself down to the street. I imagine the cold air will taste even brighter. Perhaps there might even be some snow.
Until my next letter,
With love (and violence),
x Sabrina Angelina, the White Lily Society 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
Currently reading: “Strange Antics: a History of Seduction” by Clement Knox // Most recent read: “Dracula” by Bram Stoker (finally!)
White Lily Society links // Sabrina Angelina links
Whatever you do, don’t press that beautiful red subscribe button below. Do not subscribe to receive a monthly research newsletter on the intersection of love and violence, I expressly forbid it!!! Do NOT join the White Lily Society, and definitely do NOT become a martyr of deliciousness!!! Hands off!!!
📼 Song of the (past) month: the Mysterious Vanishing of Electra - Anna von Hausswolff
Reference to Florence Welch’ poem “Monarch Butterflies” (collected in “Useless Magic”, 2018) which has a line that reads “Old death, not this fresh death”
For the Dutch among you; appelflappen!
Mild trigger warnings apply, if you have extreme sensitivity to certain triggers, check beforehand— personally, I think the big one is still quite mild, and largely happens off-screen. It’s a delicate dance, mindfully consuming art. You know yourself best.
For those of you who are curious, here’s a sample of my Spotify Wrapped stats:
These were, as follows: Sabrina Carpenter in March, Sunday (1994) in May, Cryogeyser and Addison Rae in August, Ethel Cain (2x) and NewDad in October, Sunday (1994) (again) in November, and finally Softcult, Erin Lecount, and the Last Dinner Party in December.