Shadowhunters and Downworlders

In the Boboli Gardens, Magnus wears an enormous Venetian cloak and a gondolier’s hat, suggesting that he and Alec spent some time in Venice before their Florentine sojourn. Several centuries previously, Magnus might have worn a similar cloak along with a mask and a three-cornered hat to celebrate Carnival. This costume, which was worn by people of all social classes and genders, allowed its wearers to be anonymous, which in turn allowed them the opportunity to engage in activities—such as sex with someone who was married, or of the same gender, or both—that otherwise would have been condemned. Magnus’ gondolier’s hat could be read as an homage to the liaisons that gondoliers sometimes developed with their clients; for instance, in the late nineteenth century, the English author John Addington Symonds, who wrote one of the first essays in English in defense of homosexuality, was involved with a gondolier named Angelo Fusato.





Madrid


In front of Museo Nacional del Prado, Magnus presents himself in a sparkling matador jacket and platform boots. (And nothing else? Clare doesn’t specify, although one imagines Jace would have reacted even more violently to the photo if that were the case.) Inside the museum, there are any number of now-historic works of art that Magnus might have seen when they were new or even when they were in the process of being created. But the most notable thing about Madrid as a destination—about anywhere in Spain, for that matter—is that Magnus and Alec, were they so inclined, could legally marry while they were there. Spain achieved marriage equality in 2005.

(N.B.: About that marriage: A Malec wedding, or at least the prospect thereof, is another bonus feature that you should seek out if you haven’t seen it already. Clare created a short story in postcard form about Izzy’s short-lived but epic adventure in wedding planning, which she shared with fans who attended her City of Fallen Angels/Red Glove U.S. tour with Holly Black. Google “Cassandra Clare postcard short story.”)





Somewhere in India


All we know about this stop on the trip is that Magnus was wearing a sari. Maybe he and Alec watched The Pink Mirror while they were there. The Pink Mirror is the first Indian-made film to focus on transgendered characters, and the ensemble worn by the person featured most prominently on the movie poster—a richly ornamented gold sari and veil—is one that Magnus, if not Alec, would admire. The film is actually banned in India, but what good is being High Warlock of Brooklyn if you can’t get your hands on illegal movies?





Berlin


This time Magnus is wearing lederhosen—leather breeches—which he could have chosen for their associations with working-class virility, for how easy they are to clean in comparison with fabric garments, for the camp connotations that Wikipedia avers they have around central Europe, or perhaps simply for the (ahem) ease of access provided by their drop-front style. While in Berlin, he and Alec might have discussed another Magnus, gay rights pioneer Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld. “In 1919, Hirschfeld founded the Institute for Sexual Science, with which he aimed to make people conscious of their sexuality and allow people to live their sexual lives as they wanted, not just according to rules that were dictated by society,” says Gerrit Horbacher, the spokesperson for Berlin’s Gay Museum, in an article on Berlin’s gay history. Though judging from what happens later in City of Fallen Angels and City of Lost Souls,any insights Magnus wanted to convey to Alec about the value of unapologetic sexuality were not entirely absorbed.





Remember About the Windows and Mirrors? Sometimes People Want to Break Them


You might call what I did above “fansearch” (fan + research), a nonfiction companion to fanfic. Being inspired to learn more about something when it’s mentioned in a book you’re enjoying is certainly valuable for anyone, but I’d argue that it’s especially so when there aren’t many books out there that reflect your life. Investigating history through a queer lens is a way to make a link between your experiences and what others have gone through in the past. The GLBT History Museum in San Francisco has a quote from a 1979 flyer inscribed on one wall that reminds visitors of the struggles of the queer community: “Our letters were burned, our names blotted out, our books censored, our love declared unspeakable, our very existence denied.”