We want to introduce you to the wonderful Victorian-inspired apothecary and perfumer Willow & Birch Apothecary and its Victorian-loving owner Anna Krusinski, who spends much of her time concocting magical potions: which results in beautifulness like this: Aren't those lovely? We can practically smell...
Illustration by: © Daria Hlazatova I was mad for Moon Maid. As illustrated by Chester Gould, she was buxom with hypnotic, lushly lashed eyes, a platinum-blonde bouffant, a perky pair of antennae, and thigh-high go-go books. (Quote from a news reporter:...
Illustrations by Krista M. Jones I am a palm reader. Like all occupations, it comes with its set of pros and cons. On the plus side, I have the privilege of connecting with hundreds of people on a deeply personal level...
Brian and Wendy Froud

Dreaming Faerie

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Cover Images by ©Brian and Wendy Froud I dream of green eyes and the silent fall of petals on my hair; the sound of someone breathing softly in my ear. I dream of a hand gently stroking my cheek, waking me with...
Ariana Reines is an award-winning poet, a translator of several French books, a playwright (her first play, Telephone, received two Obie awards), a performing artist with past stints at the Whitney Biennial and the Guggenheim, among other places—and, since 2012,...
A feature in the winter issue is a piece by author and palm reader Helene Saucedo on "The Stories in the Sky," where she takes a look at the constellations from a palmist perspective. Helene also has a book coming out this fall...
Feature Image Credit:  Peter Horree / Alamy Stock Photo He drifted through kelp, broken scalp diffusing red like squid ink clouding itself. Crowded, the spiny urchins hinged their drift west. He slept, I knew, towards his death. What harm could there be in waking him? Through...
Feature image by: Darla Teagarden I was raised by a Southern tribe of women who believed in Jesus and could tell the future. The Jesus part was easy. It was easy as heat lighting on a summer night. They were...
By Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman “She was tall; —a queen might wear Such a proud imperial air; She was tall, yet when unbound, Swept her bright hair to the ground, Glittering like the gold you see On a young laburnum tree. Yet...
I find it is much harder to sew now that one of my arms has become a giant white wing. It’s nonsense to assume, of course, a spell gone wrong, a stepmother’s curse, a swan nearly freed. I recall being swallowed in...