As long as I could spend a certain amount of time each week [writing Costume Gothics], I was all right. I was patient and forbearing, warm, a sympathetic listener. But if I was cut off, if I couldn’t work at my current Costume Gothic, I would become mean and irritable, drink too much and start to cry.
-Margaret Atwood, “Lady Oracle”
Which is pretty much how I feel about being a goth. So long as I’m allowed time to dress in black, to trail lace and a sense of Victorian forboding, I’m fine. But force me into reality for too long a stretch, and I start to fall apart. I get anxious and worry too much, I focus too much on imagined slights. I seek out drama and misery for myself. Whereas, if I’m given a few hours of stomping to A23 or Combichrist, or bouncing around to Wolfsheim or And One, or dancing for joy to Nine Inch Nails, I remember who I am, and go back into reality with a renewed sense of self.
So. I’m supposed to meet my friends at Bootie tonight. And I love Bootie. I love dancing to mash-ups, and I love being in a room of people who are all just totally into the music and their own movement to it. I love the energy at the Echoplex. But what actually got me moving and hopeful tonight was the thought of going to MODE:M beforehand. I can probably pass the same outfit off at both – MODE:M is synthpop, and while I wear my best steampunk Victoriana to its sister event, Malediction Society, I can wear my sparking T-shirt, skinny jeans and boots to both a goth synthpop dance night, and a pseudo-underground mashup dance party.
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