Since time immemorial, the Scots have hated Goths. We’re not talking the empire-ending Visigoths of history, we’re talking the pale, pierced denizens of the night who love black, and only accept denim if the sleeves have been removed. But don’t worry, I’m not one of those, in fact, some of my best friends are Scottish.
Yes, I’m a goth.
But I’m a 30 something, professional-in-quite-a-serious-industry, mature goth. I wear a lot of black, and recently dyed a least some parts of my blonde hair an electric blue, but I can pass as mortal in polite company, and have only tattooed parts of me that can be covered by a nice business-casual dress…
I’m a Persephone. I spend half my life in “normal” mode, and half my life wearing armor-rings, blasting metal music and trying to befriend the local crows. Its an uneasy balance at times, not always feeling I’m as alt looking as I’d like to be, or as professional and serious looking as I should be.
So I decided to curate the goth love in my life, and give that dark, wee corner of my life somewhere to flourish and die. This includes little gothic trinkets, pictures, clothes, tattoos and memes I have and want to immortalise, and probably shameless pictures of my familiar (read cat), and the hefty links between feminism, gothic romanticism, ancient history, concepts of female power and iconography, and owls. Boy do I love birds!
What's Love Goth to do with it? 