Since we covered the Targaryens last time, I thought that this week we’d stick to the theme of “sigils with scales.” Really, what is the trout of House Tully if not a floppy water dragon? Oh, except—WOMP WOMP—it’s not. It’s not a floppy water dragon. It’s a slimy gross fish, and it sucks and, if we’re being honest, so too do the Tullys.
Yes, I have a tendency to roll my eyes over the machinations of these river lords. Let’s take them one by one and you’ll see what I mean. Hoster Tully, whom we never see alive on the show, *minor book spoilers in the next set of asterisks* *forces his teenage daughter to have an abortion before marrying her off to an old dude*; baby of the family Edmure is a whiny, inept brat; Lysa is batshit crazy; and Catelyn cannot leave well enough alone. The only Tully I love is Brynden—the Blackfish—and he is the big gay* (*popular fan speculation, which I subscribe to/hope is true) family outcast who hadn’t been to Riverrun for about 16 years when we first meet him. He’s smart enough to get the fuck out of there and stay out. The Tullys are not bad people (unlike the deliciously bad Greyjoys or the horrifyingly bad Boltons). They’re just… … ugh. They’re each “ugh” in their own way, but let’s talk about Cat.
A big part of the “ugh” in the case of Lady Catelyn Tully is that one can see the awesomeness in her, but it’s overshadowed by hubris. Cat is that girl who was in all your lit classes, but whom you never really befriended. And you didn’t hate her, but every now and then she’d just do something to really irritate you. Like, maybe you were reading Lord of the Rings for one course, and she would raise her hand and be like “It’s obvious that the One Ring is meant to symbolize the atomic bomb.” And then you raise your hand and you’re like “Actually, Tolkien first began drawing up the Middle Earth stories in 1914. So it’s not really.” And then she’s like “Well the books weren’t published until the 50s, so obviously he used more contemporary influences as the work progressed. It’s a very clear allegory.” And then your fingers claw around the corner of your desk and you’re like “No. Tolkien insisted over and over specifically that it wasn’t about the bomb.” And then she’s all “Well, I guess it comes down to the age old question of how much power over one’s work does a writer have once it is out in the world?” And then you just fucking give up, because UGH!
Tl;dr? It’s not that Cat isn’t smart. She is. (At the very least she is smarter than her poor dead husband was… … … Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed, and slightly smarter than her son Robb.) But most of the time she’s just wrong. Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG! SO WRONG! She always assumes too much and refuses to acknowledge that, sometimes, her involvement does not help either the bigger picture or the immediate problem. She also seems incapable of delegating. Even Varys delegates some matters, my lady.
So with that in mind, I am going to do Cat a favor and tell her what a Tully should wear.
I see Tully girls as being competent dressers, but not overly fussy. So I think they would keep it stylish, but basic. Since their colors are red and blue, I think we should do some color blocking with a chic but modest red Valentino dress and a pair of blue tights…
Next let’s toss them a fish (this one is also a solid perfume case!)
Basic knot earrings are always good to have
As devoted mothers, the Tullys would no doubt always have everything you need in their purse, so let’s give them a Fossil bag (incidentally, I have no idea when Fossil went from being the store in the outlet mall that my dad dragged me to into the retailer that makes really cute bags, but here we are)
And finish with a folksy, quirky, Laura Ingalls inspired boot
There! Now you’ll be callously hating Jon Snow, fucking up Robb Stark’s military strategy, and breastfeeding your six year old in style!