#phryne fisher's frocks
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The third outfit Phryne wears in "Murder & the Maiden" (Season 3, Episode 2) is a gorgeous blue and purple coat with a matching purple cloche accented with blue floral embroidery.
The star of this outfit is the beautiful chinoise coat made of black silk with midnight blue damask floral designs and purple silk trim on the pockets and her lapped sleeve cuffs. Her coat is lined with purple silk, and has a standing mandarin collar with a single hidden closure at the waist. Marion Boyce, the costume designer, added cut out elements from original 1920's silk embroidery, attaching two large blue flowers to the left shoulder, as well as one on her hat. She finishes off her look with a blue silk organza floral brooch pinned to her shoulder.
Her accompanying cloche is a matching purple felt with a tight molded brim and decorative swoop near Phryne's left cheek, along with one of the silk embroidered flower motifs also seen on her coat.
Underneath her coat, Miss Fisher wears her dark blue camisole with small scalloped trim on the straight neckline, along with her navy blue wide leg silk faille pants. She accessorizes with a bag made of the same fabric as her coat, long teardrop earrings, and a large purple amethyst and diamond ring.
Season 3, Episode 2 - "Murder & the Maiden"
Screencaps from here, costume exhibition photos from Laura Emily's Flickr, and Marion Boyce's website.
#phryne fisher#miss fisher's murder mysteries#mfmm#phryne fisher's frocks#3x02#s3e02#murder & the maiden#1920's fashion#vintage fashion#costume design#costume breakdown#costume study#phryne costumes#chinoise coat
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MFMM/DW AU, Phryne Fisher (human version, not WEAT) and River Song out on the town. Mystery optional. Murder optional. Ship content of your choice optional.
Phryne was eating a stolen apple when the strange woman came running down the alley and ducked behind the stack of mouldy pallets Phryne was perched on. “If anyone asks, you didn’t see me,” she hissed.
Phryne chewed nonchalantly. “What’s in it for me?”
“The pleasure of lying to the police,” said the woman. “Also, I’ll take you to a very fun party.”
“Is there food at this party?”
“Loads.”
Phryne’s head whipped round as the police came pouring into the alley, tensing to run like any true daughter of Collingwood. “Relax, girlie,” said the sergeant in the lead. “Did you see a lady pass by here? Curly hair, talks like she’s the Queen of England?”
Phryne nodded down the alley. “She went that way.”
The strange woman emerged after the police had gone off, brushing straw out of her hair, which really was enormous. “Thanks. What’s your name, love?”
“Phryne.”
“Knew a Phryne once. She was a hoot. It suits you, that name.” This pleased Phryne. Most people, on being told her name, remarked that it was a very big name for a little girl, or just mispronounced it. The woman stuck out her hand. “Hello, Phryne. I’m River.”
They shook. “So where’s this party, then?”
“St Kilda. Know where that is?”
Phryne tossed the apple core away and hopped off her perch. “St Kilda’s posh. They’ll never let us in looking like this.”
“Darling,” said River, “you never need to worry about getting in anywhere if you’re with me. Now, is there somewhere around here we can nick fancy togs?”
Phryne took her to the pawn shop where her father had hocked their things for drinking money last month. She kept watch while River picked the lock. “You’re quick at that,” she remarked.
“Experience,” said River, a lock pick between her teeth. “My husband’s got a so – got a cheat tool, but I always try to put in the practice when I can. Ah, here we go.”
While River rifled through the racks of furs and lace, Phryne swiped the swallow pin from a display. “Good eye,” said River, holding up a selection of junior’s dresses against Phryne's back to check her size.
“It’s mine,” said Phryne. “It always has been.” They settled on a bottle-green velvet frock for her, and she pinned the swallow to its collar.
The party was in a massive mansion. They were announced at the door as The Honourable Mrs Ethel Petherington and her daughter Miss Emily Petherington. River flashed a gleaming smile and swanned in like a queen, so Phryne tried to do the same. She ignored the glittering gowns and sharp smiles of the crowd and headed straight for the food.
River caught her stuffing cold chicken into her purse. “Hold off on that a sec, will you? Do you see that man over there?”
“Mm,” mumbled Phryne around a mouthful of devilled eggs.
“I’m going to go distract him, and I need you to pick his pocket. There’s a small key in there. Meet me in that alcove when you’re done.”
River’s method of distraction was to dance so scandalously with the target that Phryne could have hit him with a chicken and he wouldn’t have noticed. “Now what?” she asked in the alcove, handing over the key.
River grinned. “Now we get back what’s mine.”
The key opened a hidden door in the library, which led them to a chamber filled with treasure. River walked past all the gold and jewels and plucked what looked like a very ugly bracelet off a shelf. “That’s it?” said Phryne, sceptical.
“One day, my love, you’ll know how to spot real value.” River slid the bracelet onto her wrist.
They had just got back into the library when the sound of raised voices and feet storming came from downstairs. “Oops,” said River. “Rumbled. Here, you go down those stairs, they’ll take you out the back way and nobody should be any the wiser.”
“What about you?”
“I,” said River, “am going to cause havoc, as is my wont. Don’t worry, I’ll lead them away from here.”
Phryne felt her heart drop. “Will I see you again?”
“I don’t think so, love. But never say never. I had fun at this party. Didn’t you?”
Phryne nodded. River blew her a kiss and raced out of the library shouting, “Yoohoo! Looking for this?”
She ought to have gone out the back way like River told her, but she couldn’t help creeping into a gallery to see what happened next. The fellow whose pocket she’d picked and some other men had cornered River in the ballroom. River kicked one of them who’d made a grab for her, then turned and glanced up, straight at Phryne’s hiding spot. She winked. And then she was gone, as if she’d never existed to begin with.
---
River liked the Roaring Twenties as much as any flapper or philosopher, though she hadn’t counted on being arrested this far into the decade. “Are these really necessary, Inspector?” she purred, raising her cuffed wrists.
“I’m afraid so,” said the inspector. What a dour man. Incredible cheekbones, though. She glanced up at him alluringly through her lashes, which conspicuously failed to have any effect; he merely threw her a look of patient amusement that implied this was all in a day’s work for him. That was all right. River liked a challenge.
“Jack! What’s going on? Hugh left the most enigmatic message – ” The woman who had come striding onto the scene in the most fabulous scarlet coat stopped in her tracks and gaped. “River? Is that you?"
River looked at the woman in all her finery and saw, behind the polished accent and gilded war paint, the Collingwood waif. “My my, if it isn’t little Phryne. You grew up very fine.”
Phryne preened. “I know.”
“You know each other?” said the inspector fatalistically.
“I've known River since I was a little girl,” Phryne told him, pulling exactly the same through-the-lashes look as River had, which caused that previously unflappable man to swallow and look away. Oh, thought River, that explains it. “Be a dear, Jack, and take those cuffs off her, so we can see about that murder.”
“No need.” River shook her hands out and dropped the cuffs into Jack’s hands with a flourish. “Did you say murder?”
“Dear God,” said Jack in long-suffering tones to the cuffs.
“It might even be murders,” said Phryne, linking arms with River. “But I don't want to get you too excited.”
“We really do go to all the best parties,” said River.
(For the AU prompt game)
#au prompt game#miss fisher's murder mysteries#mfmm#miss fisher#phryne fisher#river song#doctor who#phrack#phryne x jack#fic ask game
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a brief homage to my all-time favorite* phryne fisher outfit: gingham frock coat with enormous fur cuffs. leggings tucked into stripey legwarmers OVER blood-red oxfords. dagged shirt front pointing tastefully downwards. what an ensemble in which to be serial-killer stalked through a picturesque country estate for reasons that make absolutely no goddamn sense
*i have not yet seen season 3
#miss fisher#this episode was very very stupid but miss fisher's nonsense little legwarmers made it all worth it
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Our fave flapper dapper couple👫
#miss fisher and the crypt of tears#miss fisher movie#miss fisher's murder mysteries#1920s#phryne x jack#phryne fisher's frocks#phryne fisher#detective inspector jack robinson#movie
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One Dress a Week Challenge
December: Green
Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries / Essie Davis as Phryne Fisher
*Is she having a bad time? Sort of, but not really. (She has solved the mystery, but has an awkward confrontation with her father. And then a nice dance with Jack!)
It was inevitable that I'd get to this show sooner or later!
From the write-up of the exhibit, it seems that this dress is either an actual vintage piece or at least made of vintage fabric--the description sounds more like the latter, but calling it "antique olive dinner frock" is ambiguous. The brass hip-buckle is also listed as vintage item.
The pattern in the cloth isn't really visible onscreen, but it shows up in the exhibit photos. I like the feather boa that appears in the publicity shot; I'm a bit sorry they didn't use it on the show.
The "back necklace" effect is interesting. I don't think I've seen that before. And the spray of gold leaves in her hair is a perfect accessory.
#one dress a day challenge#miss fisher's murder mysteries#one dress a week challenge#green dresses#essie davis#miss fisher#television costumes#tv costumes#1920s style#1920s fashion#period drama#phryne fisher#green dress
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Can’t make it in person to Miss Fisher Con 2021! No need to fret! There are a still a few virtual tickets left so everyone can join in on the fun.
🎉
Our VIP seasions with Roger Lanser and Geraldine Hakewill will be available to virtual attendees, along with other amazing sessions, and a virtual catwalk to show off your Phryne-tastic frocks. You’ll be able to chat with other fans and submit questions to our guests.
💖
Visit us at missfishercon.com to learn more and purchase your tickets.
We look forward to seeing you online!
💻
Special shout to our partners @missfisher_official @msfisher_modern @acorn_tv and @poisonedpenpress for keeping the Phryne Fisher universe alive.
#missfishercon2021 #missfishercon #richmond #richmondvirgina #jointheadventure #artdeco #artdecosociety #missfishersmurdermysteries #mfmm #msfishermod #phrynefisher #missfisher #missfishermovie #peregrinefisher #byrdtheatre #ladydetective #adventuress #fandom #bestfandom #1920s #1960s #vintage #convention #fancon #virtualcon #virtualconvention #forfansbyfans #cosplay #rogerlanser #geraldinehakewill
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prompts you say? 👀 don't mind if I do! word: jump -- pairing: phrack -- place: a boat 🤗
For you, my darling, anything!
He wakes up handcuffed to a bloody mast, unsurprised in the slightest. As rude awakenings go, this one is as tame as they come with Miss Fisher riding shotgun. He’s not even alarmed, just vexed; he’d had plans for the evening, and they most certainly did not involve being taken hostage and left to die on a goddamn boat in the middle of nowhere.
Next to him, groaning and cursing a blue streak with an intensity that would make Collins choke on his tea and turn beet red, Miss Fisher stirs from her prone position on the floor. She’s wearing a lovely grey-dove frock of all things - plans, plans, plans - and Jack notes forlornly that it must have fallen prey to their attempted execution; the long slashes in the silk skirt are jagged and merciless.
“Glad you could join us, Miss Fisher,” he bites, all bark, of course. “I take it Mr Harris wasn’t too pleased by your stopping by his office yesterday for an impromptu interrogation?”
He’s got to hand it to the woman, she’s got style. With an air of a true-born aristocrat, she rises to a sitting position as haughtily as possible under the circumstances, pushing herself upwards with little difficulty - even though her hands are bound with rope - and fixes her hair into an appropriate enough style with just a smidge of awkwardness.
“Really, Jack; this is but a minor setback, nothing more.”
A minor setback-
“Damn it, Phryne,” he finds himself growling, completely exasperated with her, with himself, with the bloody universe that just won’t give them a break, “we were left here to die, nobody knows where we are; how can you be so cavalier?”
She sends him a brilliant smile and scoots closer, and he feels himself growing uncomfortably warm, despite their predicament.
“Don’t fret, Inspector,” she whispers suggestively. “ Not all is lost; I never leave the house without some aid.”
With a practised, if somewhat restricted, hand she fishes out the infamous knife, providing him with an eyeful of alabaster thighs and grey stockings in the process; without explaining much, she shoves the hilt between his teeth and rises on her knees to flex her wrists against the blade. Jack closes his eyes to avoid her wiggling cleavage. There’s only so much a man can take, after all.
A few twists and soft grunts that make his ears burn, see Phryne set free. With a triumphant crow, she reaches for her picklock and brandishes it in front of his face, grinning impishly.
“Now, as much as I enjoy seeing you in handcuffs, Jack...”
His mind short-circuits at the words, blanking out for a few precious moments. When he comes to, so to speak, he’s free of the cuffs and dazed beyond belief. Phryne Fisher, a vision in slashed and tattered grey, stands above him in all her rather indecent glory.
God help him, but he’s in love with her.
“Now, I can see the foreshore from here, it’s really not that far,” she declares, her arms akimbo, “so get ready to jump, Jack. We swim to safety.”
He sighs and rises to his feet. Jump, she says. Well, that’s not unusual.
As rude awakenings go, he’d had worse.
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Miss Fisher Secret Santa Mysteries
My gift for @firesign23. I hope you like this little fic, a tease and dance, between the Inspector and Miss Fisher. Happy Holidays!
Jack Robinson raced after the suspect, feet pounding the marbled halls as the suspect veered around the corner.
“Catch him on the other side, Hugh!” Jack hollered, breath burning in his chest as he added a burst of speed. Legs pumping rapidly, his feet slid on the smooth floors. He watched, heart pounding, as the suspect fled toward the stairs, unsure he could catch him even as Jack dashed down the hall. Just as the suspect neared the stairs, a dainty ankle stuck out from a column and the suspect crashed head first into the stairs.
Miss Fisher stepped out from behind the large marble structure, her petite gun pointed at the man who glared up at her. Jack skidded to a halt, his own revolver in hand.
“Miss Fisher,” he gasped.
“Jack,” she greeted pleasantly. She turned her narrowed gaze to the man on the ground. “Stephen Jones, I think your little spree is at an end.” The man bared his teeth and leaped up, fist ramming into Phryne’s jaw. She stumbled back and Jack struck quickly, his own fist colliding into Jones’s nose. It crunched loudly and he staggered back. Jones swore and threw himself at Jack’s midsection. They tumbled to the ground, Jack’s hat falling off, as he grappled with him, bringing the butt of his gun down on the back of Jones’s head. He slumped to the ground and Jack stared up at Phryne, breathing heavily.
“We should stop meeting like this,” he suggested and she smiled before wincing slightly. She knelt beside him and rolled Jones over, blood staining Jack’s coat. Hugh came to a stop in front of him, face bright from exertion, and Jack sighed.
“On time as always, Constable.”
“Sorry, sir,” Hugh replied, pulling handcuffs from his belt. Jack, however, only had eyes for Phryne and the bruise beginning to bloom along her jaw. His hand reached up before he started, realizing what he was doing, and curled it toward his chest.
“Are you alright, Miss Fisher?”
“Nothing worse than I’ve had before,” she winked as she picked up his hat, dusting it off before offering it to him. She was amused, a small smile on her lips, as she took in his disheveled presence. “If I knew a chase brought out this look in you, Jack, I would have tried it before.”
“Luckily, I don’t have to do this often,” he grumbled before cursing himself. That was flirting right? The wrong step again.
“At least we caught him before Christmas eve dinner!” she replied cheerfully, rising to her feet, and pulling him up. Once, he would have been embarrassed by his reliance on her; now he was grateful.
“Dot is making bread pudding!” Hugh chimed in, joy on his young face.
“I won’t miss it,” Jack promised as Hugh shouldered the man and they headed toward their car. He was aware of Miss Fisher’s even gaze on his back and wondered what she was thinking.
Jack would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t dress without care this evening. He carefully chose a navy blue tie to go with his suit. He made sure his hair was coiffed smoothly and that his cologne was noticeable but not intrusive. He gathered his presents and the bottle of wine he painstakingly selected and headed toward Miss Fisher’s.
He found the party in full swing, with Mr. Butler more than generous with his ladles of Christmas punch. He exclaimed with joy over the wine Jack brought and promised to serve it with the main course. Mac was in the corner chatting with Phryne while Hugh and Dot cuddled on the window seat couch. Bert and Mac were talking with Jane, no doubt filling her head with nonsense. He took the glass of punch from Mr. Butler with thanks and joined in with the group.
He spent the evening, surreptitiously catching Phryne’s eye. She had adorned herself with rubies and diamonds and emeralds, an elegant ivory frock, and he burned with admiration. He knew she caught it and winked at him as she took a long sip from the wine he brought.
When it came to gifts, she somehow tucked his away so that it did not come out with the group gifts. Mac gave him a new leather notebook holder. He gifted her with a snappy fedora that she adored. Jane loved the books he brought her and she had knitted him a new scarf in his team’s colors. Bert and Mac exclaimed over the whiskey he had bought them and he laughed at the copy of the Communist Manifesto with notes.
Finally, they all drifted away, leaving Phryne and Jack alone, fire crackling. Phryne poured him a glass of whiskey and Jack gave her a puzzled smile as he accepted it.
“I didn’t know you served,” he said teasingly and she grinned.
“For you, me, and Dot.”
His brow wrinkled: “I didn’t know Dot partook.”
“She doesn't,” Phryne admitted. “But hope springs eternal.” He lifted his glass to that and they toasted, gazes interlocking as they sipped their drinks. She placed hers down first and eagerly reached for the gift he brought. She shook it and frowned at the lack of sound.
“What can this be?” she teased with a smile. Jack offered her a flat one in return and she smirked as she ripped off the paper. He watched her as her mouth dropped and she lifted out the piece of paper.
“What is this?”
“Boxing lessons,” he replied. “So you don’t receive any more bruises. At least, not in this line of work, anyways.” He pressed his advantage then, reaching across to trace the bruise on her jaw. She had covered it well, he thought, the edges of it a ghost on her flesh. She quivered beneath his touch and his heart began to race. He swallowed and withdrew, unsure of what step to take next.
“And from whom will I receive these lessons?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky.
“From me, of course,” he said with an answering smile. She blushed and his heart stuttered.
“And that’s not all,” she said, changing the subject to draw out a diaphanous scarf. She wrapped it around her throat, fingers lingering on the fabric. He took another drink to wet his dry throat. She crossed the distance between him, sidling next to him on the couch, hip pressed together. He let his knee fall to touch hers, her breath tickling his cheek.
A slow melody came on the gramophone and, whether it was his own courage or that created by the whiskey, Jack stood and offered his hand. Phryne smiled in surprising, a gradual movement across her features, as she slipped her hand into his and let him lead her across the floor.
“And now you’re letting me lead.”
“It is Christmas, Jack. And I haven’t given you my present yet,” she replied but there was a different heat in her voice, something that pulled low at him. He swallowed again and she tracked the bobbing movement of his Adam’s apple. Her hand gripped his tighter as they swayed together to the album’s crooning.
“Then let this be my present,” he said, his voice rough. She laid her cheek next to his and nuzzled him, breath skating across his skin, her lean form brushing against his.
“As you wish, Inspector,” she whispered, allowing him to whisk her around the room, the growing intimacy a gift each hardly expected but adored.
#miss fisher murder mysteries#phrack#miss fisher secret santa#miss fisher mystery santa#miss fisher secret santa mysteries
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Phryne Fisher?
Ooh, tough one. Three things I have in common with Phryne Fisher:
A *ahem* fondness for Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.
Genuine appreciation for fancy frocks, though she gets to wear them more than I do.
We both like to drive too fast.
Three things I don’t have in common with Phryne Fisher:
Phryne’s approach to sex and relationships with men diverges rather significantly from mine (though I aspire to her confidence).
I do not have spare pajamas just in case a visiting DI happens to get knocked out (or whatever) and need them, but that’s an idea.
No murder. I prefer my crime to be fictional and televised...though I will consent to a musical interlude to round it all out.
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If you're still doing the DVD commentaries could you do the scene in Qui Audet Adipiscitur where Jane is impersonating Aunt Prudence to get through to see Phryne? Or frankly, anything from it because I love that story in all it's glory. Thanks!
Cut!
Jane had already been hatching an idea; she’d worn her best frock this morning, and Mrs. Stanley’s imperious voice was still echoing in her mind. It was a stupid idea, and Jane had always been careful to leave those to Miss Phryne. But Miss Phryne needed her to be stupid right now. “Very well,” she announced; the rolling r felt alien in her mouth, but it was worth it to see the looks on their faces. “Then step aside, Mrs. Collins, for I intend to get to the bottom of this.”
I remember being very tickled that I’d come up with the idea of Jane thinking how Phryne needed her to be stupid—in part because it’s true but also because it’s a kind of unsentimental look into how Jane has seen her adopted mother and her shenanigans over the years. Miss Fisher is shown as this glamorous and amazing woman, and she is, but no daughter ever thinks of her mother in as glowing terms as the rest of the world does.
She brushed past them and made her way up the stairs, but stopped at the door and turned sharply toward Bert. It must’ve been the shock that did it for him, but he leapt to get the door and she swept through, keeping her head high and her gaze steely. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel remotely afraid — at least, not the thudding heartsickness she felt whenever Dr. Reynolds was cross-examining her during a disscetion. This felt more like the playacting she did at l’ecole, dressed up in stageclothes and remembering to turn toward the audience when delivering lines.
It’s a little mean of Jane to just start the con without telling anyone exactly what she’s doing, but again, we’re getting Jane’s impression of what Phryne does, and from that perspective it must seem like she pulls this shit all the time.
“Who is in charge here?” she demanded, before the door had even swung open all the way. Four officers, all seated at desks in a large room, looked up from whatever they were scribbling.
I mean that’s obviously Aunt Pru right there in that moment.
A long, tall man leaning over one of them straightened; he sized her up the way Jane had been sized up all her life, but being Miss Fisher’s daughter had taught her how much she should worry about that. “You,” she said, glaring at him. “Find me this Inspector Nevis person, as well as whoever is above him this instant.”
I know a fair number of adopted kids, as well as having them in my family, and one thing they’ve talked with me about is this kind of fluid way they think about family, a way which I never really considered—that depending on when you were adopted and how, you might have a much more changeable idea of what a mother or daughter is, even from moment to moment. So Jane might think of Phryne as “Miss Fisher” one minute and as her mother the next.
“He’s Inspector Nevis,” Dot hissed from behind her.
Dot, playing backup for Jane just the way she does for Phryne; I doubt she even realizes she’s doing it.
“I’m Inspector Nevis,” the man replied, plastering such an insincerely broad smile on his face that Jane was immediately on alert. “As for my boss, I’d be happy to ring him up, Miss…?”
I wanted someone they’d dislike but who wasn’t actually bad; not sure I succeeded tbh.
“Jane Fisher,” she announced, tugging her gloves off and marching past the desks. “You have arrested my mother. I demand to see her immediately.”
Again, just pure Prudence. God bless Miriam Margolyes for portraying her, seriously.
That at least got his attention, if not quite his respect; Miss Fisher probably already had him pegged as the sort who wouldn’t listen to a woman even if she was titled, and Nevis certainly knew who she was by now: a nameless guttersnipe who’d gotten her feet under the right table. But he’d know enough to be worried, too.
Any girl raised by Phryne would have a deeply unsentimental view about men, and only in very small part due to what Phryne actually says or does. Jane witnesses people dismiss Phryne constantly, only to be thoroughly played; that would leave an impression, I think.
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WCW: Essie Davis
Sure, she’s Phryne Fisher to everyone now, but Essie Davis has shown up in a fair number of historical costume movie and TV roles previous to those murder-mysteries we’re all so fond of (plus some fantasy and sci-fi flicks). Let’s peruse, shall we? Evelyn Bookman in The Ripper (1997) Mary Costello in Kings... Read more →
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The third outfit of "Murder & the Maiden" (Season 3, Episode 2) is Phryne's disguise of a brown velvet jacket, black camisole and pants, along with an embroidered headwrap worn while trying to draw out the Russian Anarchists.
Borrowing Tatiana's embroidered headwrap and brown velvet coat to confuse the anarchists, the rest of Phryne's wardrobe is in similarly muted tones. The deep brown velvet caplet with mid-length sleeves and a wide collar (possibly allowing for a hood) is worn on top of her black camisole with a straight neckline and decorative scalloped edging. Her classic black wide leg silk faille pants add to the practicality and color of the outfit.
She accessorizes with fawn colored gloves embroidered with a black emblem of wheat, and a beautiful hand embroidered brown head wrap which features a variety of colors and types of floral embroidery, from large orange flowers to green grass to blue and red sprigs. The earth colors tie into her large leather bag and add to the somber tone of the scene. Phryne finishes off the outfit with dark strapped heels.
Season 3, Episode 2 - "Murder & the Maiden"
Screencaps from here, promotional photos from various sources (x, x, x).
Please credit me if using my work.
#phryne fisher#miss fisher's murder mysteries#mfmm#phryne fisher's frocks#murder & the maiden#murder and the maiden#3x02#s3e02#1920s fashion#vintage fashion#costume design#costume breakdown#costume study#phryne costumes#costumes in television#period costume
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Across a harrowing three days, Jack talked Agent Foxtrot through an increasingly improbable series of escapades and was disobeyed by her a grand total of 117 times. Eventually they managed to fob off nuclear war without destroying any Unesco heritage sites, and then Jack went home and slept for fifteen hours and returned to his office feeling marginally closer to human, only to see perched on his desk an extraordinarily beautiful woman in a frock the colour of fresh blood, spinning the chamber of a shiny golden pistol.
“Jack Robinson,” she said. “I’d hoped you look as good as you sound.”
“And?”
“You look even better."
The AU in which Phryne is a secret agent and Jack is her long-suffering handler.
#miss fisher's murder mysteries#mfmm#MFMM fic#phryne fisher#Jack Robinson#phryne x jack#phrack#modern au#spy au#the one where they're all secret agents
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The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher rockin’ her frocks.
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Phryne Fisher - Teatro dell'Opera di Roma || When in Rome (Ch VI)
Fanfic Look Book || Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries || Pinterest & Pinterest
For those reading along at home, I found the evening dress on which I based Phryne’s opera frock for “When in Rome”. I was absolutely floored by the gorgeous deco beading, and couldn’t resist the boldness of this far-reaching chiffon and velvet combination. Of course, black was not quite daring enough, so I opted for a red velvet instead, and of course jewels.
While the style is likely dated at the early 1930s, I opted for a forward-thinking pattern for our heroine, particularly as she was pulling her choices out of the back room of one of the more daring designers of the time.
#look book#fanfic#when in rome#my fanfic#fashion#costuming#mfmm#miss fisher's murder mysteries#phryne fisher#essie davis#lookbook
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Miss Fisher March Madness - Final Four
This one was close the entire time. It kept switching back and forth hovering right around 50.9-49.1% , with one side constantly taking the lead over the other. Ultimately though, Daywear's Delectable Detecting Duster took a commanding lead over Phryne's Joie de Vivre Birthday Frock.
The Daywear Duster will face off against one of these two in the Finals:
Misdemeanours Vs Boudoir!!
These two heavy hitters have dominated their respective categories. Which one will move on? It's up to you!!
From S2E1 Fabulous Fan Dance or from (initially-but many, many episodes) S1E1 Elegantly Embroidered Vintage Silk Kimono?
Vote here https://forms.gle/xeWqoSmhycmXDnJR8 until March 29.
#missfishersmarchmadness #mfmm #missfishersmurdermysteries #marchmadness #costumedesign #1920s #1930s #fashion #flapper #brackets #favoritecostume #phrynefisher #fandom #bestfandom #adventuressesclubofamericas #acota #everycloud #finalfour #semi-finals #misdemeanours #boudoir #marionboyce
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