Dear loser,

It is with no regret whatsoever that I inform you of your inferiority, your inadequacy and your inability to fulfil me in any way, shape or form.

I did consider giving you one last chance…rendering you my whimpering slave, and revelling in your defeated, broken form as you beg, plead and promise. But quite honestly, you’re beyond repair and I deserve better.

Never would be, never could be, never will be yours,

Mistress Alice

Happy Valentine’s Day you kinky lot.  So is your heart aflutter with fluffy feelings and your doormat heaving with tokens of love and affection?  Nope…well it could be worse…read on.

Since Victorian times, February 14^th has been synonymous with heartfelt messages of love, tokens of admiration and overblown romantic gestures.  But where there is love there is hate, and where there is affection, there is of course rejection.

And that’s where ‘Vinegar Valentines’ come in. Often printed on cheap and nasty paper, these insulting and humiliating ‘anti-Valentine’s’  cards were first produced in America in the 1840’s.  Featuring less than flattering illustrations and more than offensive poems, although they were sent anonymously, they often provoked explosive arguments and aggressive acts of revenge.   Prudish Postmasters were even known to refuse to deliver them due to their offensive nature.

Their popularity soared, and by the 1870’s the trend had moved to Europe where even one of the most prestigious firms – Raphael Tuck & Sons – publishers to the King and Queen of England had jumped on the wagon of obscenities.

Some were cheeky and sarcastic, whilst others were genuinely hurtful and downright hateful.  Unwanted suitors were warded off, advances were spurned, and insults ranged from physical appearance to personality traits, drinking too much, and snobbery.  From surgeons to sales clerks, no one was beyond reproach.

Sour Notes

Oh what fun.  As someone who revels in the business of cruelty and humiliation, this concept obviously struck a wicked chord with me and my acidic whit.

But there’s more….to add insult to coronary injury, up until the 1840s, it was the recipient, not the sender who was accountable for the relatively expensive postage.  So…just to spell it out…the victim of this less-than-loving letter actually paid to be insulted.  A hit to the heart, the ego and the pocket…honestly, can you even imagine such a thing?

Sadly these nasty notes didn’t outlast the Victorian period.  Once the postal system changed and the sender was forced to foot the cost of the postage they fell out of favour.  And sadder still, very few have survived, most probably consigned to the rubbish bin instead of being tucked in a drawer as a precious keepsake. Their relative rarity makes them collector’s items.

As an avid accumulator of weird and wonderful artefacts, I would rather like to own a few.  So if you see any fine and well-preserved examples, please think of me… I promise not to be offended.   But I can’t promise not to slap you across the face and drown you in degradation in return.  And of course you’ll thank me for it too.

But let’s not end on a bittersweet note.  I’m sending some tough Mistress love to all my admirers today.  It’s still challenging times, so please feel free to reach out and connect in whatever way you’re able…be it with the finest champagne, vintage vinegar or just your submissive sentiments and future dreams of servitude at my elegant and accomplished hands. And divine feet.