Lupercalia being our annual cri de cœur, it’s important to remember what language the heart speaks in, even when it murmurs soothingly: blood, electricity, the drumbeat of survival.

These too are the language of desire, which quickens our pulse. The parts of us that flush, yield, or stiffen in the presence of our beloved are just microphones that our blood sings into, the interior straining to be heard above the din of the outside world.

The past years (and like, the entire social media age) have taught us that torment is so much easier to share than pleasure. For starters, it requires much more imagination. The wild excess of our Lupercalia collection is best understood through this lens, in which we set out to scratch as many desirous itches as possible, and discover there are almost no limits to how far we can reach, how many different ways there are to scratch.

Though we’re still bound by the constraints of time, labor, and warehouse space, there no such limits to our enthusiasm for setting stages for the drama of eros or the sideshow burlesque of pleasure. Either way, let’s get that blood jumping!

So here’s a volley of fresh sets, costumes, lights, and props for whatever new fantasia you could possibly hope to produce. And since we love a revival, you’ll find many returning players eager to relive their halcyon days.

May all these arrows find their intended target. May your own breast be thusly pierced! May we all keep swirling madly together like a school of Lupercalian fish, increasing our chances of survival by appearing to form a much larger creature ruled by its appetite for pleasure, in defiance of whatever torments they contrive to trap us in.