Wetlook World Forum

Might go sommat like this.

Un-mistakably Victorian the scene. Her with her perfectly turned out clothes -  an intricate deep maroon dress, brightened by the white of the lace detail & an oddly out of place men's brass pocket watch hanging across her chest. Long, vaguely rebellious hair untied yet controlled.

She is reading & writing letters on the cold grass - a standard acitvity expected of her on such a downbeat Autmn day by the lake in the woods.

Though the familiar scene could be instantly skewed by what she is about to write or by what wasn't supposed to happen.

The safeist distance from the lake but not...

Her body surges under the surface into a world of explosive bubbles & playful repression. There is no logic as she falls deeper, only an explosion of senses as at once her exposed skin is lit up by the piercing cold, more alive then ever before. Her rebellious hair that survived the first plunge is sucked down creating swirls of thick deep colour as luxurious as the smoke from a steam engine.

In an avanlanche of tumbling fabric, she thrashes to rise up, only to instead propel the water faster & harder into her clothing. Her  dress is surrenduring as the water surges through each layer from velvet to satin & finally to the cotton of her ill-prepared petticoat. The water pressure becomes her captor as it bullies her corset into her squeezing her ever more tightly as the final wave of water penetrates the satin. Escaping air rushes past her frigid chest, gliding up her upturned neck & dispersing on contact with her choker. The renegade oxygen teases her lips as she feels the bubbles but cannot intake. She watches them rise into the light with a look of utter confusion & rising panic.

Bubbles burst from inside her shiny shoes, instantly immersing her feet as her shoe slips off & falls below. It softly lands into the bed of dead leaves that makes up the bottom of the lake. Closely followed is her as she lands into a cloud of murky reds & greens as the leaves get disturbed. She gazes silently as the leaves rise & then fall covering her. Much like her clothes did earlier -now she too is surrenduring to the water. The colours produced by the swirling leaves are joined by the delicate patterns of black & deep blue made by her eye liner & mascara that is rusting from her soft skin.

Still though, she has fight & internally demands her freedom from her melancholic underwater bed of leaves. A blast of air leaves her mouth as she screams, not in panic but in a fit of fury. She kicks downwards against the lake bed, driving her shoe & ankle into the soft mud. The clasp breaks as she raises her leg once more.

Grasping under the leaves she reaches for the items she had with her when she first plunged - her letters & letter opening knife. She has to free of herself of the dead weight of her dress with all its saturated layers. She feels her delicate body is closing down as she finds her brass pocket watch which has itself already wound down to silence. The clockface almost completely filled. The ink erased from the letters she has written. The wilting papers littering the scene.

With muted force she tears at the fabric as it shatters into pieces, from velvet to satin but stopping short of the much needed petticoat- her only allie. She slices her corset narrowly skirting her skin underneath. Its pushed away along with the other dicarded fabric & duvet of leaves, briefly changing the scene from an indistiguisable mass of deep colour to reveal the island of off-white of which is her pettiocoat & blouse. She can see the white & the light from the lake surface bouncing it off, but this moment of clarity doesn't last as the murky bed closes in, tainting the white forever.

But, with two powerful movements she drives through the murky depths, her hair streaming behind her. Reaching out for the surface she feels her hand disconnect from the icy repression & into the free air. Followed by her vandalised face - the cold, makeup & dripping murky water rendering her beautiful features with an air of abandonment & near decay.

Sucking in air energises her & finally she manages to reach for the shore, grabbing the glassy grass & pulling herself clear.

There she lies staring up at the autumn sky for no more then a few seconds, before slowly rising up to walk slowly away from the scene, her newly ruined dress, hair  &  ravished apperance perfectly in keeping with the ravished wilderness around her.

And that, is my idea of a spiffing wetlook video. What do you think? Cinematic, bit gothic, little bit of intrigue (but without the CSI squad :-p )

Saw the destroyed book/paper look, plus ruined eye liner/mascara on one of JAVYS' Flikr sets now I remember. Liked that very much.

Anyway, off to watch Life On Mars. Ey.