Please note that when I talk about a "witchcraft phase," I'm referring to the period wherein tweens decided to "be witches" for a few months. It has nothing to do with actual Wicca, or the legitimate practice of the Wiccan religion; it's based solely on Hollywood stereotypes of witchcraft and the idea that we can suddenly become legitimate witches just by slipping on a pentagram from Claire's and lighting a scented candle. Many of us, myself included, went through this Faux Coven phase. When you're twelve years old and a bit lost, there is something quite powerful in this notion; though your parents seem to control your life and your classmates seem to overlook you, you can still connect with something deeper and dangerous in the comfort of your own home, surrounded by your best friends and a bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy.

The sleepover party is the center of all things fake witchcraft; my friends and I never actually took the time to research or practice Wicca the way it is meant to be practiced, mostly because we were 12 and simply into "making things happen," which essentially meant lifting our friends up off the ground while pretending our "Light As A Feather" chants were working, lighting special candles and making wishes, and playing with the Ouija board for about 4 seconds before we freaked out and put it away—not because we didn't believe in it, we argued, but because we knew how powerful a tool it was and we just didn't want to mess with it.

We made love potions out of various creams and perfumes and slathered them on before going to school, where we most likely drove our fellow classmates away by smelling like a rose-vanilla-lavender-jasmine mess, and we completely fudged our way through tarot card readings, making sure our dreams would come true ("You are going to marry David Bowie when you are 48") by neglecting to actually learn to read the cards properly. Eventually, our terrible run as fake witches faded out, and we moved on to other things.

By the time The Craft hit the scene, I was 15 and scoffed at the eleven year olds who were calling the corners while drinking Capri-Suns on the playground. Secretly, I was a bit jealous, because they were still in the realm of make believe; the place where they could scream, "I made that leaf move!" after shouting, "Move, leaf, do as I say" for twenty minutes in a row. For a while, they'd get to rule the universe, until the novelty wore off and they were forced to face an uncertain world again.

Of course, as I grew older I began to understand the deeper historical and sociological connections between women and witchcraft and was clearly able to differentiate between Hollywood witches and legitimate Wicca, and looking back, I laugh at my failed attempts to put a spell on Bobby Taylor in 1993. But I wouldn't trade my dumb fake coven days for anything, as they taught me to believe, if nothing else, in the power of my friends and our abilities to create a world outside of our own. Sure, we never actually made anything happen, but we had a lot of fun imagining a place where we could make anything we wanted come true, and that kind of confidence lasts, even after the candles go out and all of the magic dust is washed away.

Bush Officials Objected To Awarding Medal To JK Rowling Because Harry Potter Books Promote Witchcraft [ThinkProgress]

When you first open the catalog, things seem not so bad! Cute purse, if you're into old-tymey-ish things. And cute dress, if you're into, um, screenprinted flowers.

But turn the page and you'll find this: A faerie wedding. Do faeries rent their tuxedos, or buy? And where do they honeymoon?

Jane Austen fans: Scoop up this regency dress, ASAP, if you're going to make your zombie movie with authentic period wardrobe. Warning: Though the copy claims this gown is "irresistible" to "modern-day Heathcliffs," do not stand on a misty moor and wait for such a man to arrive, because evidence suggests he does not exist.

Some faeries aren't interested in marriage. Is that a ben wa ball?

What goes with "flesh-colored" leggings printed with "tribal" tattoo designs? A handcuff bracelet, of course.

Here's what I plan to do: Get dressed up in this goth Lolita "seduction" corset and skirt, then walk around my apartment with the "wish granter" and wave it at piles of laundry and dishes. If things do not magically clean and wash themselves I want my money back.

What a dirty trick. Imagine the faerie that finds your little door and tries to open it, only to discover there's just a blank wall behind. Cruel!

Wow. Since Mrs. Roper is my style icon, this speaks to me. Blogger wardrobe: solved.

Maybe this is "steampunk," goth or Deadwood-inspired, but what is with the clogs? Are clogs goth?

Only three more years until the next Pirates Of The Caribbean movie!

"If you can't take the heat, don't tickle the dragon" has got to be the best catchphrase ever. Incorporating into repertoire in 3… 2… 1.

Why fuck up a perfectly sexy page of vibrators and kama sutra stuff with fake tattoo sleeves and a pole dancing kit?

Maybe this stuff is winning you over. Maybe you want more mystery, more witchcraft, more magick, more spiritual power in your life. Maybe you're all, "I'm not a krazy kat lady, that feline is my familiar and we are up to no good!" Maybe you want to go home and watch The Craft or The Witches Of Eastwick right now. If so, please order that cape and those shoes, because they're awesome but I will never wear them.

Fish lay eggs, right? So this little merbaby… hatched. In a lily pond. Or am I overthinking this?

The Pyramid Collection [Official Site]
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Kinkade describes it well:

A few weeks before the ritual comes the discussion. It may begin with a priestess asking what song we should sing for the Spiral Dance, the part of the ritual in which we dance clockwise ("sunwise" is our term for it) to generate energy and to unite us with the god and goddess. One person suggests "There Is No End to the Circle." Any number of coven members nod; the rest groan. Somebody says, "We did that last year." Somebody else: "Exactly. It's traditional with us." Another person asks, "So, we're faux fam-trad now?" A new coven member tries to remember what, exactly, a fam-trad coven is. Inspired by the discussion, someone spontaneously sings out, "There is no end to this song, there is no end." The high priestess glares. Eventually, the debate is resolved simply because everyone is sick of talking about it. Now the rest of the ritual has to be planned—and it's just more of the same. Scintillating debates may rage on such issues as vegan vs. nonvegan cakes and alcoholic vs. nonalcoholic ale.

And don't even get Kinkade started on trying to plan a fete for Lughnasadh. What a headache!

Witches' Brouhaha [Slate]

Okay, before we get started, I just want to bring this up, out of love: What the fuck is going on with Babs' hair lately? It's beginning to look outrageous. I would go so far as to say truly, truly, truly outrageous, but she's not so much Jem as she is Ken from Barbie and the Rockers.