Madwoman cup and saucer

A quartet of porcelain dissent, gilt and glazed, a protest whispered into a teacup. “Madwoman.” For those of us labeled odd, weird, or other for simply existing. Drink deep, my dear—it’s the taste of clarity, not madness. “Hell hath no fury.” A crimson relic for every woman who’s been told to smile through her own undoing. A reminder that fury, when steeped long enough, becomes positively explosive. “There’s fuckery afoot.” The blue-and-silver herald. A cup for the moment you realize the house is on fire and everyone is arguing about who lit the match.