Wednesday, February 28, 2007

That understated detail

Dear Marc, I'm sure you're a Sartorialist addict, like the rest of the fashion world.
Do you know, that by know, he's so popular, there are now guides on how to get snapped by him? He's so loved, he's now known simply as Sarto.

Did you ever get snapped by him?
I'm sure you did.

-e, who hasn't been snapped by anyone by myself in the past 15 years.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Time was once on her side

Dear Marc, did I ever tell you about mom's watch?
I think not.

My mom had a watch and oen day, the arms of that watch started turning counter clock wise, making mom younger by the minute. And as much as I love her, I can't understand why she had it fixed. It was some kind of miracle watch, the kind you'd think you'd only find in a South American novel written by Isabel Allende or Gabriel Garcia Marquez. But we found one at home, in boring but nice Stockholm. Everyday magic, it exists!

I think such watches would make great gifts to the stressed out urban crod. I don't think most people buy your baubles to know the time, do you?


Bad vision = Smooth hands

Because of my poor vision, I have used hand lotion on my face thrice in the past week. Every time, I'm equally annoyed with myself. But my hands have never been softer. They've been treated with premium cream intended for use on a dry face.

And you know what a nuisance my hands have been!
First I wrote you this, then this.

Perhaps this is the answer! Never before has my poor vision been a source of my gratitude. But now, I dare say it is.


Monday, February 26, 2007

Playing with food, 3

Dear Marc, the only reason I send you these food pictures is because that's all we do at home when the food is not on our own faces.

Here's today's breakfast. (And no mom, I didn't serve my girl toast that carcinogenic. Promise. Call me if you're worried, and I'll explain how Photoshop works when it comes to contrast and saturation)

Playing with food, II

A crab...

...meets his maker.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Meet the fam

Listen to the music of my cousin Juvelen.
Disco to HANNA.

My feet - my burden

Dear Marc, following a week of hard work and no play, my boss told me to go get myself something nice at Liberty.
First off, I had lunch at the art cafe, in the company of an issue of Australian Gourmet and travel. We shared a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs and silky smooth salmon on toast. Plus the requisite pot of tea. Gourmet told me to finish off the meal with an terrifically tart lemon tart. I obliged.

Full and content with life, I wandered about Liberty. I started with shoes. Sadly, my feet have now spread so much that I can only wear trainers with orthopedic soles. I walked around the shoe department like a diabetic in a candy store, like a recovering alcoholic in a bar. What I want will hurt me. I can't buy shoes. I might have to shell out for surgery instead. I've read up on the surgery I might need. Post-operation recovery requires at least 6 weeks on crutches. I think they mean per foot.

How do people manage?
How will I manage with two kids while I'm on crutches. I'm sure you have nothing to say about this, but perhaps someone reading this has had a similar experience.

All the women on my mothers side of the family share my kind of troubled feet. My aunt swears by her MBT's. I'm curious, but not sure my current feet will fit in them.

To my great sorrow, I could not buy shoes. I went looking for the second item no privileged western woman can live without, the perfect cardigan. I found two and bought both that top one from KIND and a second one from Rützou.

I'm sharing the pictures here, cause this might be the first and last time they are seen without coffee spills, porridge stains and traces of mud. I have a dream, to be the kind of mom that stays elegant through play and meals. But I know I am not her.


Tuesday, February 20, 2007

A life in three pictures

Living like Gwyneth, environmentally friendly mom-driven transportation device.

Hovering in Hyde Park, thanks to overall happiness (and perhaps too much broccoli soup).

Hurry while supplies last! Limited stock!

Question from a fellow end consumer

Dear Marc, I just received a letter from a girl who's experiencing some trouble with a MJ-purchase, perhaps you can help her?

Or anyone else reading this, please help lovely Melanie.

hi! i have a bit of a dilemma related to marc jacobs. you see i just returned to my apartment after a visit to marc by marc. my first dilemma of course relates to the fact i just want to use the store as my closet, but unfortunately you can't help me in that regard!!! :) my true dilemma is that i just purchased one of the watch bauble necklaces (the red star one in fact), and i don't know how to set the correct time.

the lady behind the counter didn't know how to set the time & the manual they had wasn't in english so they couldn't help us!!! the necklace didn't come with any instructions, so i was hoping one of my fellow bloggers would know...and you are probably the only person in the blogosphere that loves mj more than i. i'm guessing i will have to find a mini screw driver to open up the back, any ideas as to what i should do?


Monday, February 19, 2007

Warning: Must not see Must love dogs

Dear Marc, are you into romantic comedies? I am. I live for the stuff.
The other day we watched "In her shoes" which was a good example of the genre. Then we saw "Must love dogs", which was horrible.

A described it best: "It had all the drama and excitement of an LL Bean catalogue sprung to life". Diane "I'm so beautiful but now that I'm a little older female viewers might finally identify with me" Lane tried to fight the poor direction, but there was little she could do.
Don't see Must love dogs. Do Lane justice and watch Rumble Fish instead or even that Tuscany-thing which is ok thanks to Sandra Oh.

Happily, we could wash away the bad movie memories watching The age of Innocence, which is surely not a rom com unless you have a strange sense of humor. I hadn't seen it before, but it was fine.

Your friend Winona was so good in it. How did the two of you become friends? I wish she'd write a script and make a movie about it all. That's a movie we'd all love to see, Winona. Make it, we know you can.


Funny or Sexy, you decide! part 3

Perez guilty of scribbling.

Bring on the fall

Why is fall so far away? First, spring then summer.
THEN fall.
I love fall most of all.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Today is the day!

Dear Marc, today is your day. Have a wonderful time!
Take London by storm, once again.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

In the name of health

Dear Marc, you look so healthy these days.
You seem to take good care of yourself.
I try to take care of myself too, and take my vitamins.
I take so many vitamins, that when I read on the labels that you should take them with your meal, it makes me wonder....
Does a fistful of vitamins count as a meal to itself?


Picture from Toothpaste for dinner.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Selfridges vs. Self 3-0

Dear Marc, after a wonderful walk through the parks I went to Selfridges looking for shoes.
I was wearing trainers, a fleece and jeans perfect for happy walking to the tunes of Tina Charles.

But it was a big mistake for a girl strolling the holy brands of Selfridges. Especially teamed with the broken and dirty umbrella buggy/pram carrying my baby - my heavy 17" MacBook Pro.

It was like me and the dresses on display belonged to different planets. I lusted after the wonderful Temperley dresses, but even I could tell that I might not be trusted to put one on.

I saw a lovely, simply perfect Martin Grant dress, but am the kind of girl who has to flip the price tag. I know I might be paranoid to think the sales assistants disapproved, I just kept having the feeling that their other customers don't bother with such mortal details
To retain my dignity, I had to iPod myself some Chopin. I'm going back tomorrow, dressed up.

must work.


The life and times of a female ventriloquist

Dear Marc,

A girl has to have her role models.

Problem for me is that I don’t know who they are. I know they’re out there, and I’m looking for them, but I can’t recognize them since they’re women speaking through the mouths of grown, important men.

These women are my fellow ventriloquists. The important men are our dummies.
We’re phrasing the messages, but we’re not the ones who get to say the important words.

I don’t have much authority. People don’t really listen to me in meetings. I could blame my small stature again, but Madonna is smaller than I am and I don’t think she ever has problem getting people to listen. It’s something else. Apparently, it doesn’t have much to do with the talent for wording the message, since that’s what I get paid to do.

And I’m not alone.

My world is filled with ventriloquists. We’re an army of women speaking through the bellies of successful men. I’ve worded the cheerful letters of CEO’s. I’ve constructed perfect punch lines and made room for feelings of regret, gratitude or restrained happiness at the end.

I’m not saying these men couldn’t write their own letters. Of course they could and they have, they’re beyond that. Now they have more important stuff to take care of in meetings, boardrooms or wherever important men go. I don’t really know, as I’m not often invited there.

I actually like my ventriloquist ways. I like writing a pompous letter, signing it ”James”, though all involved know James didn’t write that himself.

Sometimes I wonder if the world wouldn’t be a tiny bit more equal if we quit being good girls, helping the busy men fulfil their tasks. I don’t know. Maybe not.

It’s not even certain I wrote this myself. I might have a young boy writing this for me. His name could be James, but he’s closing this letter with

Heartfelt greetings from your own

Ps. It’s enough to make me feel like one of those Russian dolls. Are all the layer dolls dolls, or is only the tiniest, the solid one, real? Perhaps that’s what we are? We are the littlest dolls. But we’re real.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Here's to you Ms Robertson

Dear Marc, here's your quote of the day:

"While conversing with Mr Fiennes during my break, I expressed a need to go to the toilet," Ms Robertson said in her statement.

Doesn't Ms Robertson know it's enough to excuse oneself for a moment? What's next?
Telling world famous actors whether she's doing nr 1 or 2?

Other than that, and potentially putting the rest of the passengers in danger while enjoying bodily pleasures, I kind of like Ms Robertsons adventurous nature.

Also, I like Fiennes for his taste in women. 38 is good. A 22-year old stewardess had been so predictable. Perhaps both of them will profit from this.

Qantas - we never crash, unless you count crashing toilet parties.


ps. Do you know where I can find a good (clean) Qantas stewardess outfit? I'd like to pay a visual tribute to ms Robertson.

The healthy life

Dear Marc, have you noticed just how obsessed Brits are with organic life, or perhaps just with the word ORGANIC?

Everything here boasts of its organic origins. One brand is even called SO organic, like the world is an SNL sketch, which of course it is.

The other day I bought a soup, made by Prince Charles (a king in the kitchen).

The word organic was printed 18 times on the silly little label. 18 times. Perhaps the Brits are modern day Smurfs, who've cleverly omitted the original smurf word and replaced it with organic? I think so.

Organic greetings

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Male Sadness caused by Sale Madness

A missed all the great January sales. People travel to this town because of the sales, but he was too busy working to go shopping.

Why not have a March sale instead?
It would benefit the mood of my household.


ps. That's Joel up there. He doesn't care about clothes yet. But he loves shoes. And swans.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Missing my girls

Dear Marc, I'm making myself at home in London. Today a British lady asked me for directions and I could give them to her!

Yesterday it snowed in London and they closed all schools. Such wimps! Makes me wish for my snowclad winter capital above.

I work and play with the kids and enjoy the company of A, but sometimes I miss my friends at home. The weekend before I left, I met up with the ones who could make it (Sara M was in Florida to celebrate her grandmother's 95th, Petra is in LA, Sarah S was in Japan and Malin was at home with a newborn).

But Lotta was there. We met over e-mail a few years ago. I fell in love with her hilarious soul, and then it turned out she looks amazing too (seated center, below). She once had an international top hair stylist tell her "I can't do eeenythink. EEET eez puurrrfeect." That has never happened to me. I

Nina is talking to Lotta. You can't talk to Nina without wanting to spend the next day, perhaps the next week with her. To Lotta's right, Sara T (I know so many great Sara's).
You may remember Sara from previous posts. She's a very talented illustrator/writer and she makes very nice turbans if you need one.

Below, she's listening to Lotta's lovely man Martin. I have no idea what he's talking about, I tried, but couldn't hear them.

Bea and Karin came to dinner too. Blonde Bea to the right below is also a writer/illustrator. She recently travelled to the North Pole on an ice breaker. She has walked on the ice of the North Pole, something few Londoners have done.

Karin is seated to the left of Bea. Karin is my friend and neighbour. She always beats me at board games. She's also short, like me, and people often mistake us. We're related through a common ancestor called Baggins. The fact that we're part hobbitts which may explain our height challenged statures.

I'm happy Clara was there too. I'm trying to convince her to come to London for shoe shopping as she is great company with an excellent taste in footwear. We'll see if I succeed.
Must go pick up the kids. Where are the friends you miss the most?


Thursday, February 08, 2007

Can't get you out of my head, but at least your stuff is out of my house

Dear Marc, I know you're busy but I'm sure you've heard that Kylie has now dumped The Frenchman?

Her friends stand by her and tell the mags that she's promptly FedExed all his stuff to Los Angeles.

"What has gone back includes an antique pair of diamond earrings and a friendship ring he gave her.

"Also couriered were all of his clothes and personal belongings, including two leather jackets by Claude Montana, cashmere jumpers and Hermes shoes, five Dunhill shirts, six pairs of Giorgio Armani jeans, his aftershave, moisturiser, all the books and records and CDs they bought together in flea markets in Paris while Kylie was in recovery and other things like film scripts he left behind."

I don't know about you, Marc, but this makes me suspicious. Would a friend name the stuff like that? Is Kylie making friends with the FedEx people?

When my friends dump their boyfriends and I talk to the press, I say "his junk is where it should be, on it's way to him". Never have I stooped to count the number of Dunhills in the container.

Have I missed something?

Kylie reigns supreme.
We love you Kylie. The only thing I hate is that the Kylie exhibition seems to be fully booked before it's even opened.

Must go.
I'm tracking a container, rumoured to hold friendship rings and Olivier Martinez underwear.


Wednesday, February 07, 2007

From your show to my heart

Dear Marc, I just saw the pics from your fall ready-to-wear line.
I want all the clothes. All. Am also impressed by the way someone seems to have taken Reese Witherspoon and stretched her out (above).

Perhaps, if I wore this outfit, I would be met by respect and exude that air of mystery I think lurks somewhere within me.

Ah the fashionable life! I feel that if I wore those clothes, I would magically be transformed into another person and time. perhaps I'd be part of this happy group of females I found in my grandmother's album. They're at the estate, having some fun before the ball.

The thoughts of your clothes give me beautiful daydreams. Thankyou!


Monday, February 05, 2007

My son, what has become of you

Dear Marc, when we decided to relocate to London, I was mostly worried about my daughter's ability to adjust to the country, language and customs. Never did I worry about my wee son, who does not seem to be able to tell the difference between food and sand. He's in that cute, ignorant stage.

But it seems I should perhaps have taken better care of him. The other day, I returned from the swings to find him like this:

Like so many Swedes abroad, he has turned into a tragic case of
caffe latte bumness.

What can a mother do?
He's not even 2 years old.


A Marc Jacobs dilemma

Dear Marc, know how a man can sometimes come between two women? How two friends turn into rivals because of a member of the opposite sex? You are that kind of man. I understand some men would take this as some kind of ego booster, but to you; I’m sure this is just weird and perhaps not even welcome news. I know you had no intention to break up my two friends, but it happened, over two years ago and there’s little to be done about it now.

And to think that I was the one to start the split, by returning from the store with my two new pairs of MJ boots at 70% off the original price! I told Anna of the sale and as she needed new footwear she decided to head for the sale. She asked Jess if she wanted to come too, but Jess was too busy working.

Jess: I know there are those most beautiful white smooth high heeled Marc Jacobs boots on sale. I love them!

Anna: Ok, sure you don’t want to go, then?

Jess: Yeah.

So Anna went to the sale and of all the things on sale, she fell in love with a pair of beautiful white smooth high heeled Marc Jacobs boots. There was only one pair left, so you can imagine her joy when they were her size. She went back to the office, where Jess received her with icy coldness upon seeing the contents of Anna’s bag.

Anna offered to sell them. She offered joint custody. But Jess was not impressed. In her view, Anna had broken the rules of friendship simply by buying the boots.

They tried to mend their friendship but it was never again the same. Especially after a moment at a party where a group of 12 women stood in a ring around Anna, praising her incredible footwear. Jess was there to witness the fashion triumph that could have been hers. Hell hath no fury like a stylish woman scorned.

What do you say? Was Jess first remark enough? Should Anna have refrained from buying the boots all together?


And yes, that’s me with the left member of the couple that broke up the friendship.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Dogwalkers unite and take over

Dear Marc, I read a lot of quotes. The other day I read another quote by Tom Ford:
"If I had been a dog walker, I would have been the most successful dog walker in Paris."

Who's the better dog walker of the two of you? Are you up to the challenge? Who's the faster? The more stylish? I hear you now, saying there's no competition. I don't believe it. I'm rooting for you.

God I'd love to see the two of you on a dog walk face off.


ps. Perhaps Tom means he just puts his heart into whatever he does. But I can't help it. Now he's planted this dog walking fantasy in my head and I have to run with it. Cause I'm a woman who runs with dogs. The dog runner.

ps2. Have you seen this? For men who love dogs.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

More pics from London

Dear Marc, it seems in London, people drive around in childsized cars. And most fireplaces appear to be out of service. But they make great movie watching corners.

Do you have a petite car and a small computer cove?
I hope you do!