It’s funny how quickly it happens: a couple of fashion shows and red carpet events and things suddenly start looking up. After having been deprived of anything non-essential for over a year, the past weeks’ events almost feel excessive.
Continue reading “Spies, Sequins and Love On the Brain”
It’s the New York Fashion Week, it’s the MET Gala tonight, it’s the new book releases, it’s people stepping out on the red carpet, it’s the awards, it’s the everything, and it feels so good.
Continue reading “September Sensory Overload”
Happy start of the New Year, which for me takes place in September. As friend put it, January New Year is merely a stocktaking. It’s all working from home and chasing people for overdue drinks in the balmy Brussels. Re-establishing routines and sort of planning for a life after a long while feels like wrapping self in tartan, which never fails to appear as the seasonal freshness come September.
Continue reading “C’est la rentrée!”
Reading Swedish Astrid Lindgren is part of every Nordic kid’s literary canon. The Pippi Långstockings and Emils and all of the wholesome children of Bullerby and Saltkråkan in the Swedish Archipelago were firmly etched in my head when I was young, making me compulsively re-read the books, and later experience terrible bouts of disappointment, as my summers absolutely were nowhere as idyllic as those of the merry children in the televised versions of the books.
Continue reading “Ditlevsen’s Copenhagen Trilogy is Nørdic Genius”
It’s clearly not midsummer anymore, but my compatriots require full 72 hours to toast the nightless night, so the solstice celebrations are always scheduled to commence on a Friday to allow for this, so most of them are still celebrating. Wherever you may roam, enjoy this fleeting moment, try not to drown and rejoice as the days are already shorter than last week! November is around the corner!
Continue reading “Midsummer Memo”
This could be the title of many blog posts, actually, but today’s focus shall be on why young, white, dead women hold such a fascination for us. Countless novels have a storyline of a “beautiful, young girl (college-age is best, because even when dead, she must perform both the roles of a sexual object and a virginal family girl) disappearing” and everybody being very worried and a national manhunt ensuing.
Continue reading “Women, Disappearing”
