Horsefeathers! Hildy just e-mailed me and I say, Ba-loney! I’m absolutely zozzled with disbelief! I don’t want to make a beef about this, but here’s the dish. If you recall my Hannah Hart, ghostdame of The Del intro post, I told you cats I was off to Boston for a Beacon Hill Christmas. I also mentioned it’s no simple jaunt, spending up loads of my energy to get there. Sure, ghost travel ain’t the big brodie yours is, but it’s still no basket of blackberries in July. Well, guess what, kids? Dr. Harvey & Hildy, good ol’ Mum and Daddy, won’t be having a Beantown Christmas this year because they’re headed for Hawaii! Well, I told them that’s all wet! How could they? I’ve been saving up since summer for the Road to New England and they go all Santa-in-a-grass-skirt on me.

To make matters worse, they’re taking big bro Hugh with them. It looks like I’m all alone, Santa Baby. Just my little dog Lindy and Moi. Home for the holidays suddenly doesn’t seem quite the raspberry I thought it was. Plus, how am I supposed to get all my presents? Try to receive a package as a ghost, or deliver one for that matter. The current residents inevitably either keep the goods or send them back marked No longer at this address. Duh, Dumb Dora. Even brown can’t do that. Murder!

Well, I’m nothing if not a Pink Gin is half-full kind of kitten. I suppose the upside is not only do I get a respite from Harvey & Hildy’s foxtrot flaunts, but I also get to remain in San Diego, in my gorgeous Hotel del Coronado. Boyzo! Is it ever bonkers with Christmas spirit! Better than that? I think I spied an old chum lurking over a Gibson in the Babcock & Story – and I do mean old . . . she’s been here longer than I. Dr. Lucia Devereaux, oceanographer, was the first hot scientist at Scripps Institution of Oceanography. She also had a knack for tinkering and a fascination with the new electricity fads of the day: a deadly avocation when combined with her vocation.

Dr. Lucy’s been haunting the hotel since 1904 when – The Del being the world’s first resort to use electrical lighting – she naively tried to teach Onslow, her pet octopus, whom she housed in the hotel pool, how to run the nighttime deck lights. One sad splash! and that was it: she would reside where she died. Legend has it Onslow scuttled back out to sea before he died and today he still tarries about the shoreline, only able to see his Lucy from afar. Sometimes at night, you can see them waving to each other: Onslow’s tentacles from the sea, she her handkerchief from her attic laboratory. Each Christmas Eve since then, if one listens carefully over the crashing waves of midnight, one hears Dr. Lucy singing his favorite poem, Lord Octopus Went to the Christmas Fair by Stella Mead (1934). It’s haunting, really. Lord Octopus went to the Christmas Fair; an hour and a half he was traveling there …

She’s been adventurous lately, leaving her lab, now that steampunk is all the rage. Lucy’s a sucker for anything Victorian and mechanical. Lucky for her, the hotel gift shops have a plethora of steampunk décor and accoutrement: Onslow Christmas ornaments, clockwork art, vintage styled jewelry and sartorial finery galore for gentlemen and ladies in the posh hotel boutiques. If I can keep her out of the lab, I think it could be a nobby Christmas! Maybe Harvey & Hildy going to Hawaii is the best pressie after all. These hotel holidaymakers won’t know what hit when we jazzy kittens jolly up the joint!

Until the Christmas wingdings begin, I’ve got more than enough seasonal cheer and swell weather to keep me chipper. Best of all, I’ve got a stack of Mickey Mouse Magazines, Carl Barks’ Uncle Scrooge Adventures and even a few modern copies of Betty and Veronica. Oh, I do like that sassy and shiny Veronica! You wouldn’t find Miss Veronica Lodge at The Del in flip-flops and elastic-waist shorts … like some of you. (Cats, try to remember it’s an upscale resort when you visit. U.S. presidents, dignitaries and film stars holiday here. At least, please don’t wear your jim-jams out of your hotel room.)

Comic books for a chickadee like me? And how! You think all you alligators with your Superman, Spiderman and Star Wars tales cornered the market on comic book furor? Think again, dolls! Disney ink first hit the pulp in 1930 and I’ve been hooked like an old lady on a favorite Atlantic City slot machine ever since. I’ve even still got my very first comic book ever, a stocking stuffer in either ’31 or ’32: Mickey Mouse in Death Valley. Uncle Scrooge, Huey, Dewey, Louie and those brazen Beagle Boys have been taking this muffin on adventure after adventure for over eighty years. Topping the stack currently is my 1949 Walt Disney’s Christmas Parade.  My faves though? The Egyptian escapades; nothing’s funnier than a mummy chasing Donald Duck! Throw in Mickey and Goofy afoot of a mystery in the Scottish Highlands and you’ve got some rip-roaring good yarns! Don’t forget to check your Junior Woodchuck Guidebook for tips on overseas mysteries, just in case you’re headed to exotic lands for the holidays. (I hope Harvey & Hildy packed their copy!)

Now, I’ve got to go change. The Travel Channel is on the premises shooting Skating by the Sea: The Del’s beachsiide ice skating. First, I have to dig up my fur-trimmed, Sonja Henie skating dress, my white, velvet muff and then it takes forever to do my finger curls. (Listen up, broads. Ghost locks are paper-thin and refuse to hold a curl; whatever you died with, you pretty much keep forever. So, if you have some idea of when you’re going out, make sure your hair is looking spiffy.) As soon as I’m cute n’ camera-ready, I’ll dash over and make a few spins around the ice rink. See, when they get around to editing next year’s Travel Channel Hallowe’en specials, they’ll remember they think they saw yours truly in some of the Christmas footage. Hey, it’s good B-roll for them and I get to keep my footy in the flickers.

Okay, dolls. Tootles and Happy Holid … wait, is that Dr. Lucy? Ahhh, it is! Sure enough, she’s headed for the bar! I think I have time for a quick G&T à la B&S. Damn, I’m never going to get to my comic books. Whilst she and I catch up, perhaps some of you can suggest other great comics (any new steampunk series?) and holiday cocktails for Lucy, Lindy and Moi this Christmas @JennyPopCom.

 Need some splashy, flashy holiday cocktails? Find recipes from JennyPop's Festive Libations!

Abyssinia, babies!


@JennyPopCom

Published in Miss Hannah Hart

“She called herself Bat-Girl! Gosh, I wonder who she is?”

- Robin, Batman #139, April 1961

 

Swooshing through an open window, Bat-Girl crashed the DC Comics clique in 1961. Resembling 1930s Norwegian, Olympic ice-skater Sonia Henie, she was more Madame Alexander doll than superhero. The first Bat-Girl, a.k.a. Betty Kane, was little more than a pretty, teenage nuisance and, according to Robin, “an inexperienced girl bound to get hurt pursuing crooks”.

On her Fiftieth, Batgirl, and we, might reflect on her personal transformations. Along her journey, she has refashioned not only her hair colour, costumes and careers, but her secret identities. Batgirl's personalities number so many, a PhD candidate might deconstruct her mythology as a dissertation on “Dissociative Identity Disorder in Pop-Culture”. However deconstructed, Batgirl's only constant is her utility belt.

75 Years of Archie Comics: Betty & Veronica, American Girls

by

Jennifer Susannah Devore

 

To me, Betty and Veronica symbolize something that is so right about America, where two girls from completely different backgrounds can find each other and become the best of friends.

-Johnathan Goldwater, co-founder/publisher Archie Comics

 

 

Veronica Lodge has everything endless wealth can provide: a mansion, cars, travel and a trendsetter's wardrobe. She also possesses qualities generally unaffected by means: beauty, intelligence, self-confidence and a supportive family. One wonders, why is she at public school, rather than private? Mother and Father Lodge must raise a privileged child, without letting loose on the world an entitled adult.

Mr. Lodge thinks thatVeronica is exposed to a more diverse group of students and is hopefully developing some lasting friendships.

-Victor Gorelick, Archie Comics Co-President/Editor-in-Chief

Betty Cooper has everything endless sweetness can provide: loyal friends, a true heart, a clear conscience and altruistic intentions. She also possesses qualities generally unaffected by means: beauty, intelligence, self-confidence and a supportive family.

Reform, Relapse and What She Wore: 75 Years of Catwoman Chic

 

by

Jennifer Susannah Devore

 

They say a little black dress is a timeless classic. We say a little patent-leather jumpsuit with a mask and a whip beats that.

-Suzan Colón, Catwoman: The Life and Times of a Feline Fatale

 

Simply because the night includes midnight Parkour and pilfering, doesn't mean a girl should look homeless, even if she is. Confident yet wary, the youngest Selina Kyle yet, of FOX's Gotham, sprightly portrayed by Camren Bicondova, has perfectly honed the hip, desperately-casual style of Millennial America (designed by Lisa Padovani): storm colours in leather and wool, jeans, hoodies and knee-boots. Although, oddly, like Star Wars, Gotham seems set in the future and a long, long time ago, thus explaining Selina's futuristic/vintage steampunk goggles and 1930s, Marion Davies curls. Bicondova's Selina is a magnetic addendum to Catwoman's bio; but she has years to grow into Batman's nemesis and the sartorial significance that transmutes Selina into Catwoman.

 

Spring 1940 (Batman #1) introduced us to the dishy ne'er-do-well known prosaically as The Cat. Boarding a yacht to pinch a diamond bauble, she wears no catsuit, only the unimaginative mask of an elderly woman. Yet, the rest of her? Long legs, tiny waist, form-fitting pencil-dress and bombilating blue-black locks. Clearly, more Old Hollywood glam than old lady scam.

We needed a female nemesis to give the strip sex appeal. So we came up with a kind of female Batman.

-Bob Kane, Catwoman co-creator (artist)

Soon, she was dubbed Catwoman and receives what any hot villainess requires: mask, cape, kick-ass boots and whip. Even so, costume uniformity came slowly.

Summer 1940 (Batman #2) saw Catwoman sporting dramatic, primary colours in the standard, pre-WWII silhouette of the day: fitted dress, shoulder pads, puffed sleeves, full skirt. Unfortunately, by autumn of that year she also started sporting furry, realistic cat masks. The Fifth Avenue dame with the cat head was just creepy.

Autumn 1940 (Batman #3), the gold and red ensembles transitioned to more mysterious, black numbers in leather with purple capes. On-target, but the fur masks lingered. Why obscure the pretty? Modeled partially on Hollywood bombshells like Jean Harlow and Marlene Dietrich, why give Catwoman the figure of Jane Russell and the élan of Lauren Bacall, but the face of Clark Gable?

As WWII raged, Catwoman shimmied out of her day dress and into a voluptuous violet frock with shoulder pads and a full skirt, great for twirling and swinging around Gotham rooftops. A Kelly-green cape and Robin Hood boots finished the glam-bandit look.

The fur mask was finally shed, too. Half-face with cat ears and wide eye-holes, the new mask highlighted her intense peepers, sharp cheekbones, ruby lips and waves of black curls in the Gotham moonlight. Kitty can still scratch, but now she doesn't have fleas.

And don't underestimate her, just because she's a woman!

-Robin, Boy Wonder

After WWII, Catwoman reëntered peacetime unscathed, sashaying easily into the well-manicured 1950s. Vacillating between prowler and proper citizen, she kept busy in a variety of "jobs": jewel thief, fashion editor, pet shop employee. Each gig meant new gear, which meant getting said-gear. The magazine gig was solely a ruse to misappropriate a mink coat.

The Fabulous Fifties presented Catwoman as a bored socialite with plenty of cabbage but a penchant for shoplifting. Until 1954, she reflected post-War America perfectly, save the kleptomania: swank, comfortable, blasé. She had an itch though, and Gotham nights provided the scratching post.

Whether slinking through Gotham at night in her mask and cape, or manning the pet shop by day in her silk and pearls, Catwoman remained a dashing yet ladylike knockout. Then, came the Sixties.

After a ten-year stretch under a sunny window, Catwoman returned to print comics in 1964, in a flurry of costume variations. 1967 (Batman #197) found her in a weird green, scaly bodysuit that looked like something she'd catch for dinner. About that same time, television had better designs on Catwoman. Thankfully, that included Julie Newmar.

Is it any wonder she gave him "curious stirrings in his Utility Belt"?

-Adam West, Batman (1966-1968), Batman

TV oft sets its own parameters. Sometimes that's good and brings new generations of fans. Batman (1966) lured a whole new fan base using little more than a black, Lurex bodysuit. Julie Newmar looked as though she'd been dipped in quicksilver: shiny, mesmerizing and deadly. Add a low-slung, gold belt, elbow-gloves with claws, and black kitty ears resting perkily atop wavy, golden-Titian hair and, "Hello, curious stirrings".

Newmar wasn't the only screen-Catwoman; surprisingly she appeared in only six Batman episodes. She was, however, the first. Like Windows 3.1, Newmar was America's first GUI Catwoman.

TV Catwomen of the Sixties numbered three: Newmar, Meriwether and Kitt. Though each brought her own twist to the role, each essentially wore the same thing: same cat-suit, same cat-ears, same cat-accessories (designed by Pat Barto). Though Eartha Kitt rose above the discussion of race, it cannot be denied three years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Catwoman was black.

Was it a racial victory? A black woman portraying a traditionally white character? I don't think of myself in terms of a race. I'm an artist.

-Eartha Kitt, Catwoman (1967-1968), Batman

Lee Meriwether, a kind of slinkier Laura Petrie in leather and revenge, claimed, "Eartha, for my money, was the best Catwoman." As far as Kitt's legendarily sexy purrr, Newmar admits, "I started it, but I'll tell you. Eartha Kitt did it better. My God, no one could top that!"

"Her Catwoman was sinuous and sexy and she exuded intelligence and craftiness from every pore," cooed Adam West of Ms. Kitt in 2003.

Since her creation in 1940, Catwoman's bio, and wardrobe, has changed multiple times: nine lives indeed. By the 1980s though, her backstory, and costuming, becomes darker and less forgiving: more panther, less sex kitten. Depending on the tale, she is an abused prostitute, or an abused socialite, no longer just bored, but victimized. Either way, she escapes her violator and hits the streets with her natural acumen leading the way. One twist finds her recycling old dominatrix work-gear into Catwoman threads. This pattern of finding opprobrious men, save Batman, eventually reduces all men to mere cat toys. The Catwomen and catsuits of the Eighties and Nineties, in print and film, exhibit this more volatile psychology: notably via auteur Tim Burton and actress Michelle Pfeiffer in Batman Returns (1992).

If Catwoman was polite and Stoic before, Pfeiffer pierces her with an enjoyable infusion of pure wackadoo. Pathetic cat-lady Selina Kyle spends too much time at the office and irritates the boss; so abusive boss Max Schreck fires her by defenestration. Remarkably, Selina rebounds uninjured, but totally bonkers. Being tossed out a window will do that to a girl. Naturally, she next fashions a latex catsuit (designed by Mary E. Vogt). Barely held together by crazy-stitches, much like her psyche, the suit proffers a new Catwoman with a bit of batty behind Pfeiffer's almond eyes and cherry lips.

More than a decade later, Halle Berry would continue the dark theme in Catwoman (2004). If Pfeiffer makes Newmar look like a daring secretary at the office Hallowe'en party, Berry makes Pfeiffer look like a rubberized version of Betty Rubble. More Sturgis than supervillain, Berry's leather bra, hipsters and whip (designed by Angus Strathie) left less to the imagination, but inspired comicverse debate and a controversial Catwoman Barbie. With some complaining Berry was more stripper than blackguard, the next Catwoman seemed less lethal and threatening, like a sorority girl in a cheap, devil costume.

Anne Hathaway brings the catsuit full-circle (designed by Lindy Hemming) in The Dark Knight Rises (2012), poured into head-to-toe leather, spiked boots and, reminiscent of Newmar, perky kitty ears atop long, shiny, brunette hair. Hathaway looks less lascivious libertine and more Comic-Con cutie. In the end, befitting her natural charms, Hathaway keeps Catwoman chancy, but returns a whit of the Catwoman you'd maybe take home to Mom and Dad … maybe.

February 2014, DCComics writer Genevieve Valentine changed the bio again, exposing Selina's bisexualality. Catwoman #39 sees her retired and the Calabrese crime-family chief. Obviously, her panache is also retired: pixie cut, sensible heels, black pantsuit. Where's her flair? Hiding across town, it seems. In the Gotham shadows lurks another, younger dish waiting to sluice into the old catsuit: Eiko Hasigawa, heiress bred into the rival, Yakuza crime-family.

Usurping her identity and costume, Eiko strives to use Catwoman's persona for good: scotching the Yakuza's ill-deeds, and spying on Selina. Too much spying can lead to obsession though, and after some discourse on identity theft Selina and Eiko kiss. Not surprising, really, given Selina's history. Batman never fully fit the bill and every other man she's known has been a complete bastard, except Alfred. Where this storyline goes? Only Valentine knows.

"Will they dramatically implode? I mean, it’s comics, it could happen. But it will be a relationship," writer Valentine tempts.

 

Was that for me, or the suit?

-Eiko to Selina, après-kiss

The suit, Eiko. It's always the suit.

 

 

 

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Cheers, kittens! Miss Hannah Hart here. Rested and refreshed after one pip of a week at San Diego Comic-Con 2015 (SDCC) with my cohort Dr. Lucy and her trusty, steampunk-driven Canon EOS. Now, a little bluebird at SyFy told me Comic-Con "was a lot less packed and crazy this year". From my end, as a Con floor-worm, I say, "Nay! It was a lot more packed and crazy this year!" Fret not though, dear reader! Dr. Lucy and I endured it all, just for you, and this year, sharpened our focus on what matters most: the artist.

"Normality" reigns once again: only the corset welts remain and, thankfully, those are fading fast. (Beach parties are never far off around here; always lurking in the shadows, like Homey the Clown with a sock full of nickels in a dark alley. Ka-pow! Guess what? You're going to a luau, girl! Damn it. Where's my parasol?)

In case you didn't pick up a copy at San Diego Comic-Con, never made it to Comic-Con, or never intended on going, but love reading JennyPop's work ... voila! Reprinted from the official 2014 SDCC Souvenir Book. Enjoy!


Am I Mortal? You Are Now: 20 Years of Hellboy, and Counting

by

Jennifer Susannah Devore

 

 

Here, Sheldon. I pulled the new Hellboy for you. It's mind-blowing!

-Stuart Bloom, The Big Bang Theory

 

Being human is a pain in the ass: heart-shattering emotion, physical limitations, that unrelenting shoulder-tap called mortality. Any wonder the knell of immortality, even human-hybrid versions, is so alluring? Not simply a fantasy world of superheroes keeping it tight and right, the mass appeal is a micro-fantasy of vicarious athanasia, preternatural strength and invulnerability: forever swinging on that top branch. Sure, weakness abounds, even for the eternal: religious vestiges, beheadings, spells, Kryptonite, wooden stakes, domestic beer. Still, ruination-odds are worth the eternity-payoff. Conversely, what a quandary it is when immortals bemoan their gifts, even forfeiting them to join the Muggle world. Who knew pancakes, cigars and television were so bewitching?

 

Holy moly, Hellboy!! This year was a close one! If you read my Adventures in WonderCon post, you will have noted the tint of sadness that came with realizing WonderCon Anaheim (WCA) was it for the year; the Comic-Con Badge Quest Slaughter of 2014 had left Dr. Lucy and myself emotionally exhausted and near expiration, with little hope of survival on the Con battlefield. Yet, like a Phoenix, rising from Arizona -wait, that doesn't sound right- we mustered every cell of life that remained, gathered our courage and cerebral weaponry and ... huzzah! With two weeks to spare, we parried and riposted our way into San Diego Comic-Con!

 

Picture it ... early-morning Saturday, March 15, 2014: San Diego Comic-Con Badge Quest

  • 6:00a.m. Awakened ceremoniously with rousing rendition of John Williams' Star Wars Theme, performed by Boston Pops
  • 6:15  Fully awake, finally, after repeats of Star Wars Theme
  • 6:20  Espresso
  • 6:30  Text cohorts in NorCal, registration codes and Member IDs ready to go
  • 6:35  Re-read official CCI email re: SDCC badge-sale
Remember, there is no need to rush to the landing page at 7:00 AM! You can enter the waiting room two hours before the sale begins [ at 9:00 AM] or 10 minutes before the sale begins, and your chances are the same. Your wait time is up to you!

Honours come in many a form and fancy. Some strive for awards and trophies, some shoot for honorary mentions and notice. Mine, like many a dyed-in-the-wool geek is to be a cartoon character ... and not via those cheesy, "Turn yourself into a superhero!" ads, the product being little more than a selfie morphed by mildly impressive Photoshopping.

No, a truly organic, artistic character is what I crave and not necessarily a Marvel-style superheroine (Although, I do envision a metal bustier, Manson boots and coal-black locks, tipped with poisonous scorpions, à la Blackbeard's fuse-tipped curls, with which to sting villains, those being folks using "your" and "you're" interchangeably, as well as those asking really dumb questions like, "I can never remember. Which was first? The Civil War or the Revolution?" Scorpions, dispatch with the obstuse! Away!")

An honest to goodness Sunday funnies, cartoon character suits me raw-ther nicely. Well, my Fairy Godmother waved her wand and Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo! Unexpected and a true honour, this drawing was a thank-you from syndicated cartoonist Mel Henze, of GoComics new comic strip, Gentle Creatures. Weirdly, he nailed me with surprising accuracy! The parasol, the red shoes, the hat, sunglasses and flower! (Not the boobs, so much; but I love The Far Side approach to anatomy!)

I oft describe myself as Ken Burns, minus the funding. When something strikes my fancy, I write about it: Disneyland, Nordstrom, The Simpsons, Comic-Con, Colonial Williamsburg, Orange County, etc. Gentle Creatures struck my fancy and I wanted to write about it, where I scribe so often on geek culture, comics and animation: GoodToBeAGeek.com

Fortunate enough to interview Mr. Henze, I learned a great deal about his process, the maze and diligence that can lead to U.S. and international syndication and something called "panel-heaviness". I met a wonderful little doggy named Jingles, a curious stinkbug named Cecil, learned not all rabbits are cute and cuddly and The Muppets' King Prawn Pepe is on possible standby ... for what, I'm not sure. Check back very soon for my full interview with Mr. Henze and his Gentle Creatures!

Thank you, Mr. Henze! Thank you for the introduction, to boot, Mr. Gene Willis @GoComics!

Published in JennyPop Interviews
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