So I didn’t post a deck review this week... because I’ve been building one.
And not just any deck. I’m talking about my Domestic Divine Tarot—my love letter to retro rebellion, 1950s perfectionism, and the absurdity of how we expect women to save the world while baking a soufflé and smiling for the damn Christmas card. This deck is my magic, my satire, and my chaos spell wrapped into a red-and-white polka-dotted box.
I didn’t make this to be cutesy. I made this because I’m tired of seeing Tarot that centers passive mysticism while ignoring the nuclear burnout that lives inside every “perfect” woman. I wanted to create a deck that weaponizes femininity, wields the spatula like a sword, and says: No, I will not find peace—I will find receipts.
“I imagine this woman to be in her most powerful position—right in the domestic front. Partly because I’m mocking all those tradwife influencers. But also because I know that’s where the rebellion begins.”
This is the first full walkthrough I’ve done of my own tarot deck, and in this video, I go into:
Why I designed the back of the cards with my favorite red-and-white polka dot pattern (hint: it’s camp and chaos)
How a bad print job gave my cards an “accidental border”—and why that actually worked with the aesthetic
The themes of distorted time, gaslighting calendars, and falsified narratives that appear repeatedly (Judgement + Ace of Swords? They're not playing fair.)
The wild little trick I hid in the 5 of Swords—where the woman is holding two “5” cards, but one of them is secretly a 6 of Spades—aka the fake narrative, the forged drama, the fight you never agreed to but still got blamed for
How every single image is commentary. On purity culture. On quiet rage. On how beauty and performance are used to erase dissent.
This deck is not nostalgic. It’s strategic. It’s the kind of deck that makes you ask,
“Wait... if the calendar’s wrong, what else have they lied about?”
The Domestic Divine Tarot is my personal visual grimoire, my clapback to aestheticized oppression, and yeah—my pretty little chaos bomb wrapped in apron strings.
I don’t know if I’ll ever sell it. I don’t even know if I want to. But if I do, you’ll be the first to know. For now, this is your invite to step inside the pastel portal. The blender is running. The knives are sharp. And dinner? It’s metaphorical.
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