New Year - No Thanks.

Dear Marc, how are you and what are you doing today, on this day, the worst day of the year?
I'm conservative (though not politically). I don't like change. I don't see the need to change year. Why not just keep counting the days?
2007. No sir, I don't like it.

My New Year's have always been marked by anxiety, cold, a broken heart, too little to eat and too much to drink.

I hate New Year's.
Yours, in curlers and tears

-e
ps. Feel free to let me know about all your amazing plans for New Year's. I like to wallow in a misery fueled by self-pity and jealousy. Then in the end, I come to my senses and give money to people who have more to worry about than being cold as the clock strikes 12. Vanity. It's the fastest route to charity.

Funny or sexy - you decide! 2

Dear Marc, how about this little thing from Jovovich-Hawk!
I think it's funny, but perhaps you find it sexy?
At €179.84, it's almost expensive enough to stop me from wondering what to do when nature calls. Perhaps a small catheter is included, free of charge.

I like Jovovich Hawk.
But this item I shall pass on.

love
-e

The SOMA article

Click on image for larger pic. Thanks Kristin!
From SOMA mag, Nov 06.

In that Holiday Spirit

Dear Marc, I hope your holiday was amazing, if you had one, where ever you were, who ever with and how ever you spent it.

We celebrated Christmas at home our own way, the way we've turned into tradition for the past 6 years. First we take a long walk, then we eat Italian food and drink red wine and give each other new houses, ties and books. (see A putting on a tie above, it was a very formal feeling for both of us, with the tie being such an absurd item of clothing).

















This year, I did a man swap. I gave away Susur and received Mr Latte. I was happy with my gifts, but what I really wished for was this boat:



















and this house:


















(3rd wish: to turn into Angelina Jolie and stop being so materialistic.)

Then, we danced a little around the balding angels of our Christmas tree.


















And suddenly it was all over. Vanja asked where the Christmas trees go after the holidays. At the stables, we saw horses happily chowing down spruce after spruce. I didn't know it was a delicacy. I'm shocked, because as a descendant of vikings and poor farmers, I'm sure my people must have been clued in about this.

With Christmas over and done with, I'm looking forward to the new year. This year, I'm making big resolutions. I'm not quitting anything but have secret plans.

What are your promises and hopes for the next year?

love
-e

To Russia, with love

Dear Marc, I'm just back from 33 hours in Russia. I've just finished listening to my Anna Karenina audiobook and I have that empty feeling you have when you've finished a book you don't want to end. In this case, 33 hours might seem like it almost didn't.

It's such a great soap. With a mix of infidelity, intrigues, death, existentialism, romance and fashion. It deals with problems we still have, and some that are lost in history. Like being a little embarrassed cause your horses don't match each other when you take your caleche downtown. It never gets old.

His wife (top left) is my hero. Another day I will tell you why. Right now must go read Patricia Volk's Stuffed. It's Christmas. All I want to do is read, eat, and read about food.

love
e

For your mother or aunt

The icon with delighted off-spring, now co-author.

Dear Marc, have you seen all those lovely ladies in their 60's, wearing pants a little on the short side, strutting about with short dark hair, flats and boat neck sweaters?

In wintertime, they invariably shift to romantic coats or voluminous capes, sometimes with a little fur lining (faux or real). I've seen them walking the winter streets in groups, like a school of manta rays with the fabric floating around them in the air.

I love these ladies, and if you ask yourself where they get their fashion sense, let me enlighten you. These ladies were impressionable teens when Audrey Hepburn rose to stardom. She is forever their guru and shining star. No matter that the ladies I'm talking about are no longer 18 year old skinny skinny dancers. They're pushing 60, sometimes 65 or 70, but they know a style they love and for the love of God, they will wear it. And they should.

This is what to give them for the Holidays.






















love
-e

For the grumps in your life

Don't know what to give to the unhappy people in your life?
How about The Malcontents? It's not a subtle gift, but it's enjoyable even for happy people.

-e

What have you done for you lately

Dear Marc, in the process of buying holiday gifts, what have you bought for yourself so far?
I was over at my mom's yesterday, she showed me a gift she had bought for herself.
It was the book above, a joy to browse.
It even included cuts from Vionnets creations, making them seem accessible, only one step away from one's own closet.

It's something to wish for. Or secretely buy for one self. Just remember to act surprised when you open it. You don't want to spoil the joy of the giver, now do you.


love
-e

History mystery

Dear Marc, did you ever visit your local pharmacy and come across a cupboard filled with old medicine jars?

And if so, did you take a closer look at the jars?
Did you see a jar like this one? What would they have used this for?























The past intrigues me so!
love
-e

Top 3 ways to stop your shopping demon

Dear Marc, do you ever have to calm down your drive to spend? Do you find yourself falling so in love with fabrics, cuts and color that you just have to have something, even if you can't afford it, even if your rent's due, even if you know you'll have to borrow money to do so and it might be embarrassing because same thing happened last month?

That may not be you these days. But maybe it was you, a few years ago, before your own brands, before your stint at Perry Ellis, before all that, when you were just a student like the rest of us have been.

Did you have any tricks to stop your spending?
I have a vivid imagination. I find it very easy, too easy, to dream up situations where I don't just want, but need certain clothes.

But with so many beautiful things to lust for, one has to defend one's vallet.

My top 3 kill joy things to tell myself to stop myelf from making a purchase are the following (use as needed)

1. If it cost $19.99 at H&M, would you still crave this so?

2. Honestly, what will this look like after you've worn it for 100 days and washed it almost as many?

3. You know you'll probably get pregnant again within a year and then you can't wear it for another 2 years. And when you do, there will be babyfood on it. Do you still crave it? If the answer to all three questions is "Yes", then I have the right to buy it.

Shopping. It's all about making it through your inner assault course.

love
-e

ps. Try not to buy the dress here.

A mother's love and all that

Dear Marc, since I'm going to London, I'm preparing my favorite way, reading up on museums to visit. One of my all time favorites, the V & A, has a museum within the museum, called the Museum of Childhood.

The Museum of Childhood houses a Children's costume collection and that's where I found the lovely dress above.

This dress was made for a little girl called Jane by her mother in 1944. Jane had received a surprise invitation to a children's party, but she didn't have a dress she could wear. Parties did not happen very often by this stage of World War Two. There were shortages of food, and many children were separated from their friends and families because they had been moved to safer areas. Party dresses were also hard to come by because they cost a lot of money and Jane's mother would have had to use up many rationing coupons to buy one.

The night before the party, when Jane had gone to bed, her mother got out her sewing kit and every scrap of spare fabric she could find. She sat up all night cutting and stitching, and in the morning, there was Jane's new party dress - cleverly made out of a patchwork of all the pieces.

If it took Jane's gifted mom a night to make the dress, do you think this skill-less mom could make one in a year? If I start tomorrow?

love
-e

Ps. One night? Is it really possible?

I love this

There's so much that's wrong with America these days, but there are also things that are absolutely right.

Like this:










ps. Tack Petra!

I'll follow any Court order

Dear Marc, you know her, right?
What's the story here?
love
-e

Thank you!

Dear Marc, thank you for opening a new London store just as I'm moving to London!
love
-e

Pissing on Stalin

Dear Marc, I have found my wee son pissing on Stalin, not once, but twice. I've often found myself begging for some kind of sign that there may be life after death. So far, the peeing incidents are the closest I've gotten to some kind of encouragement.

I think my son might be a reincarnated victim of Stalin's mad deeds. It's either that or he really doesn't like the highly praised works of Simon Sebag Montefiore.

Ps.
I see that you are more than just a man yourself. Besides being a fashion god and a successful entrepreneur in this life, you are also a pigeon. Congratulations!

Love
-e

Let them eat truffles. Sometimes.

Dear Marc, yesterday two of my favourite things met, with a most unfortunate result.
Perhaps you should put a note of caution on your shoe boxes?
I would have needed the following advice:

"Dear consumer, do not feed your children chocolate truffles while wearing your new Marc Jacobs boots. Chances are your kid will throw the truffle against the delicate leather, causing stains hard to remove".

This advice is surely offensive to the majority of the world's population, but if you're reading this, chances are you may share my concern.

Next: The guillotine.

-e antoinette

Ps. Yes, the picture is from a different occasion, but the haughty expression remains the same.

Working girl chic

Dear Marc, have now found out that my eyes are not fit to be operated upon. Turns out, I have somewhat cone shaped eyes. How about that for alluring facial features!
Alas, I can not have corrective surgery the way I intended. But as I was born and raised an optimist, I try to welcome this information as happy news.

Now, I have all the reason to splurge on a new pair of glasses. I'm looking for a pair of beautiful glasses, perhaps tortoise. Is that the word I'm looking for here? Help me. As often, what I'm aiming for here is the look of a foxy librarian or student. Like Audrey when she's working that bookstore in what movie? Foxy. Or Juliet Roberts in The Pelican Brief. Hours in the library - never spent for nought!

I'm looking for a pair like the one in the above picture, from all working girls favourite paper goods store - Russell and Hazel.

Can you help me find them?
Or do you have a different suggestion?

love
.e

Sexy or funny - you decide!

Dear Marc, did you see this picture from Agent Provocateur?
One girl seems to be putting her head back on her shoulders while the other is working the bored stiff look to perfection.

It's from the Fantasia collection. I'm sure it's meant to be a sexy dream. But when I see it, all I can think about is that "Your dreams miss you" campaign for sleeping pills. I just want to retort "But I don't miss those dreams!"

It's an interesting image. I keep returning to it. It's not erotic to me at all. But it's funny. Sexy is so done. Weird funny is the new sexy. The agent comes up on top. Intentional or not.

Feel free to add words to describe the thoughts of the models .

love
-e

For the woman who's got everything

Dear Marc, are you at a loss for what to give this holiday season? What do you give to the person who's got everything, including depression?

A nice little pill jar, of course!

Found: Christmas

Dear Marc, I found Christmas up in the attic. It wasn't that hard to loose, since our entire supply of Yuletide decorations consists merely of the menagerie above.

Last night as I put Vanja to bed, she looked at me and said solemnly:

"Mom, I've found Jesus."

As a modern day agnostic, I try to handle this heavy news in a responsible way. No reason for alarm. She may be Christian, Buddhist, Muslim or whatever, as long as she's happy. I say "Really, tell me more, honey".

"He was under the pillow the whole time". I'm puzzled by her words. What does she mean? That God is in the details? That he's under the pillow and comes to her in her dreams while she's sleeping?

She unfolds her hand, to reveal little baby Jesus from the creche. If only God was so easy to find in real life. I understand that to some people he is.

Good night, have some important matters to attend to in the bedroom. You may interpret that however you'd like sir.
-e

Creepy Santas

Dear Marc, did you know that before Santa started making it, he was just another guy on a reindeer. It wasn't until he started taming the elfs that he could travel in comfort in a sleigh.

Plain Jane

Dear Marc. did you see that beauooootiful Anne Hathaway is lined up to play Jane Austen? It will be interesting to see the directors mouse her up again, as our beloved Jane was famously plain. It would be so great to see a non-pretty actress get the part, cause with lack of looks, one has to try harder.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say and say that if Jane Austen would have looked like Anne Hathaway, there would have been no books left for us to read. I bless heaven for Jane's combination of common face and uncommon talent.

As a casting director, I would cast myself ! I have the same tired eyes, the same beak-like nose, the same little mouth trying, but often failing to be nice.

But as a casting director I would try even harder to get Angelina Jolie to play Anna Karenina. That's a movie I want to see. With Reese Witherspoon as Dolly. But should play Vronsky?
Any ideas?

love
-e

In the pages of a magazine, 2

Dear Marc, yesterday, in a fit of curiosity, I bought Vogue Living. It's not representative of my kind of decorating ideal (too well behaved and chintzy), but I wanted to see J Lo's house and take a peek at Marc Anthony's greek antiquities.

Browsing the pages, I came across a section where IMPORTANT PEOPLE shared their favorite net sites. Actress Lou Doillon shops at glaciere.com for oak clad fridges.

"I get so bored with the shape of fridges", sighs Doillon.

I'd love to spend a day with this interesting person!

-How are you today Lou?

-Horrible, but thanks for asking! The toaster is so upsetting! The shape of it!
-It's just a toaster, honey. They look like that.
-Yes, but they don't have to! They bore me! Bring me an oaked toaster! And the stove! It's...mediocre. It irks me. Perhaps with some oak, it would look OK.
-------------

The magazine is worth buying not only because of Lou, but also because Princess Olga of Greece tells you about the world's greatest museums and there's also an amazing picture of writer Joan Juliet Buck. It looks just like a fashion plate, but it's a pic from the writer's early years as a journalist. You can see her adjusting her Ossie Clark dress, standing on her bed in a Paris hotel room. Her 70's version of the laptop - a travel typewriter, is resting on the bed next to a nice tray with tea or coffee, it's a little hard to see. She's the glamorous writer I'll never be, but will always dream of becoming.

-------------
Today is a great day. A is coming back home from London and I'llget to see him for a little while before I'm off to enjoy a traditional JULBORD(Christmas buffet) with friends at Pontus by the Sea.

Lost: Christmas

Dear Marc, I've lost Christmas, have you seen it? I'm serious, I can't find it. I had all our Christmas stuff in a box that got lost in our move to the house.

I'll have to decorate with other stuff. I'll hang my I-can't-afford-Roland-Mouret dress on a hanger in the living room next to my leopard I-kinda-feel-like-Gwen-Stefani-in-this-outfit. I'll put my new boots by the fire as stockings and instead of a creche, I'll arrange all my credit cards in a barnlike manner. I'll dress Joel up as a tree and we'll dance around him.

How are you celebrating the holidays? At home or away?
love
-e

Ps. If you see Christmas, can you tell him to go home? It's not the same without him.

Trains, dames and autobiographies

Dear Marc, I just spent the weekend with my mom, son and 90-year old grandma. Now, you may think this post will not be fashion oriented, but I'm not so sure.

We were to be away for 40 hours. Travelling with a toddler, I brought clothes for Joel and myself in a small plastic bag. I had some magazines, a few diapers, a baby bottle and my business papers in another, equally small bag.

I meet up with mom at the bus stop. We're not taking a cab to the train station, because my mom is a scout at heart, and as a woman raised by a scout, I take the bus too. Mom is bringing 1 suit case and 3 bags for our overnight stay. I'm always curious to find out what she brings. She never lets me down.

This is the greatest difference between our generations. Born in 1945, in a Europe scarred by war, mom is always prepared. There is no greater sin than wasting money or food. I've often asked her if I can throw away left overs right away or if she wants me to put them in the fridge for a few days. She always opts for the latter.

I enjoy travel. I like to try stuff I don't eat at home. But well on the train, mom opens one of her many bags, and it's apparent I will eat like I do at home after all. A loaf of rye bread and a Norwegian goat cheese is brought out into the open. A thermos of hot water welcomes the company of a few Constant comment tea bags. Our meal is delicious, dignified and a tad nuts at the same time.

The frugality of it all is endearing and annoying at the same time. Just like mom.

The train is perfect. There's even a play section in one corner. One of mom's bags contains toys and books that appeal to grandmothers and 19-month old boys.


















This post is getting too long. I'm cutting it short by sharing pics from grannys picture album.






















My grandmother spent a summer in France as a governess in the 30's. I had no idea her protégé was Amelie from Montmartre. Or do all Franch women look like this? I'm afraid they might.


















I know grannys friend is not Dovima, and a horse is not an elephant but I love this picture My new fashion rule is: Always wear long white gowns when feeding the horses!

Back home, I dressed Joel in 30's fashion and he managed to spice the look up with a sequined slipper. Tweed and sequins. The boy is a living tribute to Brideshead Revisited. Tweed and sequins. That just about sums it up. With a few tea bags and Norwegian goat cheese thrown in. That will be the name of my autobiography. Sequins and tea bags.

Am exhausted, must go to bed. Will try to dream about sequinned tea bags. To me a dream, to my frugal girlscout mom a veritable nightmare.

What's your most extravagant necessity? Spill it Marc, we want to hear it all!
love
-e

'Tis the season of dirty santas, part 1

Dear Marc, where do you draw the line between pervert and Santa?
Wherever I look this time of year, I'm met by cheeky Santas.

I see a nice old school pram, but who's inside?

















A cute bébé? Mais non, mon dieu!
C'est un grown old man with flushed cheeks and a portdrinkers nose.

And this guy? Brought out once a year, he's having trouble curbing his enthusiasm.























Ho ho ho, watch out.

Send me your best dirty santas. I don't mean living men. I mean santas created to be a decorative element, but then something goes terribly wrong.

love
-e

Fear of the costume party

Dear Marc, the other day, when I was invited to a costume party and couldn't find my pirate hat (I was so disappointed! I was so set to pin a few dead birds on my shoulder and try eating with a hook for a hand), I ended up going as a glamour mime.

While I wouldn't recommend this look to anyone, I think it's a good thing to dress as your worst nightmare. A way to conquer your fears.

At the costume party, I saw Snow white dancing with astronauts. I saw a box of crayons drinking beer. I saw jockeys hugging surgeons. I witnessed a group of Amish gentlemen getting down. I saw a whale doing the running man. I saw my former boss in the disguised of a sick man.

"What are you?"
"I am Sick"

Trust a former copywriter to dress the part of an adjective.

But the winner that night took the prize (as winners tend to do):
A kitschy fisher man complete with frame, pipe and all.
















I like this flesh colored costume too, though it's from a party I was never even close to.
What's the best costume you ever saw?


love
(I'm miming this as I type)
-e

Postcards from the edge

Dear Marc, I finally bought the boots (see, you can buy them on sale now!). I've never loved a pair of boots like I love these. Feel the love streaming from this end consumer. It's real. So what if it's superficial love, it was funded by superficial deeds. I wrote one article on celebrity tattoos and one about grown ups and toys to pay for my boots.



















It's late November. Winter came, then changed her mind. It's not that cold, but it's very dark. At the office, the daylight lamps were in use to save us from darkness induced depression, so common in this part of the world. I have new boots. Darkness doesn't bother me.


Then I took Vanja to see the dentist.
I swear, even going to the dentist was a joy wearing new boots.

love
-e

Help me understand

Dear Marc, does this imply that the nipple covers (or breast wart covers for those of you who know what I mean) come from abroad? Or that they should not be used outside the home? Domestic polyester. Not to be confused with I'm-out-the-door-polyester.

I also find a comfort in the 5 pair package. For those of us with that kind of udder set up.

























Pert greetings
-your e.

Things Google taught me

Dear Marc, don't you just love Google?

I Google for a picture of smoking women in the 20's. Google wants to help me.
Google thinks I'm searching for female vices and fills me in where I seem to be at a loss. Thus, a search for women + smoking is not enough for my friend Google. She adds mustached men and alcohol to the mix. But she forgot the boots.

What are your vices? The same as mine?
love
-e

Things my grandma taught me

Dear Marc, I know your grandma taught you how to knit. My granny teaches me other things.

Grandma: Emi, you know how people say they've quit smoking?

Me: Sure I do. I believe them.

Grandma: Don't. People never actually quit smoking. They only quit buying their own smokes.

In the pages of a magazine

Dear Marc, writing you has left me with more than 200 silly letters, embarrassment and grief (that last word is only added to create impact). But it has also given me new friends and a bright place in the media spotlight.

I hear I'm in the current (printed) issue of SOMA magazine -THE OBSESSION ISSUE- because of all these letters to you. I haven't seen the issue, but I believe it's true. It seems to be a fine publication.


Love
-e

Ps. If anyone reading this has any notion of how British childcare works, please let me know. It's a jungle out there.

Things my mama taught me, part 1

Dear Marc, it's late in the evening. I'm sitting here, typing invoices while thinking about marriage. Not even my own, non-existant marriage, but my parents.

The other day mom told me "I was only 25 and to promise someone my love for eternity, it just seemed like forever. I told your dad he could have me for ten years, then we'd see. More importantly, I had him promise me he would never utter the words "I told you so" in our shared household".

"That's your most important principle regarding your 35-year old marriage?"

"Yes. What are you doing?".

"I'm taking notes."

What's your best relationship tip?

-e

Yet another Swedish lesson

Dear Marc, are you familiar with the etymology of the name Gyllenhaal?
It's easy for us Swedes. We know it means "The golden hole".
Now we all wonder exactly which hole the name refers to.
Language! Offering new mysteries every day!

Ps. Ok, so maybe there are other explanations as well. But I like the one above best.

Everyone knows but me!

Dear Marc, first of all, you look amazing. You look younger than your man. How did you do it?
Evian, cigarettes and love?

I'll try it too!

You know I've been busy covering the big 5 candles party over here. Tidying up the place, I found one of Vanja's new gifts, a Bratz doll. And as I did, my life crumbled.















Look at her, all barefoot and hippie-happy. But she might not be so peace loving after all. At any moment, she might pull on those boots and powerwalk all over Barbie.

The kid in me had a moment. I tried to put the boots on the doll. Impossible.
You have to remove the feet to put on the footwear. I'm serious.

A million times I've wished for this. That I could simply remove my feet to put on the shoes or boots of my dreams. For this little doll, it was a normal thing. Perhaps this is how life is for everyone else around me too? Do the rest of the female world simply remove their feet? I feel this might very well be true. Why haven't I been let in on this? Why have I suffered in pain, squeezing my too broad feet into exquisite little pieces of footwear?
















This earth shattering insight leaves me with the following question: when will you be making detachable/attachable MJ feet?

After having removed my own, I will need an extra (designer) pair for those lovely beach walks and sleep walks. Please make them long and Italian looking.

love
-e

Note to self - check off from to do list: Write Marc Jacobs a letter on the benefits of removable feet.

Maybe things taste different when you're 5

Dear Marc, mom came over for a cup of tea tonight and Vanja told her all about her breakfast.

"Grandma, today the porridge was soft like wool!"

I'd give anything to try such a soft soft experience.

love
-e

Five candles

Dear Marc, today was a great day. Vanja turned 5.















She got all she wished for and more:

1 big bowl of breakfast porridge
1 glass of juice
2 Barbies
1 big books about cats
1 Madicken book
1 soft set of PJ's
1 cardigan
1 Russian doll, to be painted by anyone 5 yrs or older


Her politically correct mom had promised to bring organic exotic fruit to pre-school to be hid in the forest as a treasure during an outing. However, the pc mom ran out of time, luck and money and made an apple pie instead. The attempt to convince the pre-school teachers to hide the pie in the forest was highly unsuccessful. The pie seemed to have been treasured no less, not a crumb was left.















Then I threw correctness out the window and opted for indulgence. I picked two cakes from this array and went to pick Vanja up from pre-school.





















Meanwhile, she'd been crowned. She's the ruler of my heart and this day, she reigned supreme at pre-school too.















My parents and brother came for dinner. Mom said "Oh no, I'm not wearing make-up. And I'm sure you're going to put me on that world wide web again!". She never wears make up. So I don't know what she was worried about. That world wide web, perhaps.















My brother Björn cut the cake. He's a radio reporter. If you want to listen to him, click here to hear a clip. It features my brother's interviews from NASA, Houston, where he went to find out more about food in space and space toilets. Björn's lovely girlfriend, Frida the judge, couldn't make it to our house. She was in Russia on a research trip.

It was a good b-day. Just like last year's.
When is your birthday?

love
-e