Though it’s an industry that appears to be somewhat obsessed with copyright protection (except when it comes to AI), Stacey proudly declares that misc-en-scène has been unscathed by the usage of imagery, quotes and other creative properties. Well, almost. ‘I have only had one cease and desist letter and that was from Rosalie Varda.’ Though costume designer and daughter of iconic French filmmaker Agnès Varda might not appreciate it, misc-en-scène plays an important role in keeping archival work alive and celebrated by people who otherwise might not stumble into that corner of film history. ‘It is all an act of visibility! If any studio or filmmaker has a problem with that, they don’t [do anything] because they understand they’d be cutting off their nose to spite their face. Cinema merch is for the people, often more accessible than even the films are.’ O

ne of misc-en-scène’s collections is dedicated to filmmaker Todd Solonz, a critical indie darling and the brain behind Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995), Happines (1998) and Wiener Dog (2016). ‘It’s one of my most popular collections. Meanwhile, Solonz can’t even get his next film funded. It’s a hard world we live in, and my hope is that if people plaster themselves with images or derivations of them from his films, maybe there’s a way we can get his work made again. That goes for all the cinema freaks who want to make lasting images.’

Early on in the world of misc-en-scène (initially named tees-en-scène and rebranded after the COVID lockdown), it was imperative for Stacy to share all of the profits from the company to marginalised filmmakers, activists and mutual aid groups. ‘Now it funds my life because I’m a broke trans woman,’ she jokingly shares. But the driving force is more than just financial success – it’s her connection with cinema which was instrumental in building her own identity that she’s eager to bring to you, too. ‘My love is cinema: I wouldn’t be Margot without it. It was crucial to my transition as a transsexual woman, and I find my archival prerogative is parallel to me finally understanding who I was in the world. […] If I feel I have good taste and understand the power of discovery, then I want to share that with others. That mission is in the images I choose to share or the clothes I make for people to wear, give as gifts, wipe their faces or cum with. The value of cinema is that it shapes and permeates everything.’