what's in my vampire hunter bag 🦇🕯️🥀

from horror lit to baby lambs

come fall i indulge in every hot ghoul’s favorite ritual: buying a new big ass bag and refreshing the essentials i stuff inside it. this typically involves hours of online window shopping, agonizing over which black faux-leather vessel is the perfect balance of chic, unique, and roomy enough to swallow all fourteen of my cherry red lip glosses and every crumpled up after-visit summary i get from the doctor informing me that i have a BMI over 30. they intend for it to be a cautionary note, but all i see is “diagnosis: fat, juicy thighs and heaving knockers”.

luckily this year my purse selection process was made much easier, thanks to the beheaded finally restocking their vampire hunter kit for pre-order back in march. it arrived right on time, just a day after i grew thoroughly exhausted of the velvet crossbody i’d been carrying around from killstar. not that it wasn’t lovely—it had gold hardware detailing and the outlines of two serpents etched into the fabric. but like most things, familiarity leads to disenchantment. (hence why i can no longer even look at trader joe’s sweet potato gnocchi, after eating it every single night last winter and then telling my coworkers i’ve “been getting really into rustic cooking”.)

so far, the vampire hunter bag has lived up to everything i saw online that had me swooning hard enough to drop 100 bucks, despite being one go puff order away from bankruptcy. it’s spacious without being too cavernous (a recipe for lost air pods), and stays put on my shoulders when i carry her with me on a cemetery walk. the raised shapes of crosses and garlic bulbs are everything a dracula fan girl could dream of, and the blood red inner lining perfectly contrasts all the dark little trinkets i’ve tucked away inside. here’s a peek into the abyss…

books of blood by clive barker

this collection of short, delightfully sickening stories has been my literary companion for around four months now, which sounds like a long time to finish a book because it is. i’m an impossibly slow reader. i like to say it’s because i try to draw out the experience, savoring each page, making sure the words are consumed amidst a well-curated reading ambiance with classical piano in the background and an overpriced candle burning by my bedside. but really it’s because i get distracted easily and prefer to fall asleep rewatching my own instagram reels.

what drew me to clive barker’s writing initially was of course my love for the hellraiser franchise. i thought about starting with the hellbound heart (the novel hellraiser was based on), but decided not to get too pinhead-pilled and go for something fresh. books of blood felt like a perfect option, since my abysmal attention span is best suited for short stories. i’m happy to report i’m beyond satisfied with my choice. each story in this anthology is as clever as it is perverse. so far, i have devoured four of them—a few in one sitting if you can even believe it.

left at the altar solid perfume

now that i’ve proven myself to be a complex female character (can read), time to talk about fragrance. the one i’ve been throwing into my bag lately is left at the altar from last rites vintage. i picked up it up during my little journey to chicago, where i attended the oddities flea market with phoebe and vincent. the vendor perfectly described her creation as “if your witchy aunt owned a metaphysical shop”. incense is the dominant note, along with hints of wine and dried herbs.

i love to slather it on as a base and then spritz a lighter scent over it before i leave my crypt. the name “left at the alter” is apt, as it makes me feel freshly divorced and ready to take up a new lover. preferably some art history post-doc who wears v-necks and is in better shape than my ex-husband, that way i can maintain the upper hand at my inevitable deposition. back to the perfume—its solid oil consistency makes for easy reapplication as the day persists. i would link it below but she’s sold out. tragic.

my journal

if you don’t pen your tweets in a twenty eight dollar notebook you bought at barnes and noble are you even a writer? i take this diary of brain rot everywhere i go, otherwise i begin to feel a deep sense of purposelessness. what’s the point of sitting outside at a cafe, wolfing down a bahn mi in between zoom meetings if i can’t write down judgmental one-liners about strangers on the street? it’s almost as thankless as reading in the park without posting about it on instagram story. i shudder at the thought.

swarm enchanted lip sheer

i feel like i drone on about this product any chance i get, but what can i say? rituel del fille rules me. there’s something about a blotted crimson red lip that elevates your entire being. it’s effortlessly sensual, deliciously vampy, and makes me want to flirt by the bar with some forty year old npc, while the b2b copywriter i matched with on hinge sits alone at our table nursing a basket of lukewarm potato skins. (it’s fine, he’ll be the one to ghost me anyway).

also this shade is one of the last remaining relics of rituel de fille’s chelsea wolfe collab so that alone makes it a worthy addition to your lipstick collection.

lamb

i started watching interview with the vampire on amc+ a few months ago and the show changed my entire brain chemistry. this lamb i found at barnes and noble is spiritually lestat de lioncourt and i will not elaborate further. i take him everywhere <3

sanrio pill case

don’t be fooled by my impeccable decanting skills, i never remember to take my vitamins. that’s honestly been the worst thing about having gone without a dom for quite a while—there’s no one to micromanage me into being mindful of my nutrients. i’ve been vitamin deficient for as long as i can remember, and there is just something so impossible about staying on top of it. a change to see cinnamonroll’s adorable little face is probably the closest i’ll get to an effective incentive.

and that completes our journey through gaping abyss that is the bottom of my purse. i’m sure there are a few things i’m forgetting like perfume samples or olive garden receipts, and maybe some things i’m omitting (eyelashes of my enemies and love letters i’ll never send). but i’ll return next autumn with fresh new trinkets.

-Rachel Elizzz