Friday, March 30, 2007

Chocolate stingray

Now it's here.

Whyred Spring and Summer. For all of us who want to be chocolatey sting rays this season.

Lick me, I'll sting you.

Back from the homeland

Dear Marc, I'm back.
Are you?

I took the plane, which I hate. I am always convinced I will crash and as I board the plane I solemnly look at my co-passengers who will share my sad fate. They always seem happy, bored or busy, never as seriously grave as one should be when having a date with destiny in the skies.

On the good side, I flew SAS, the air line with the oldest stewardesses. To me, this is in itself a reason to fly Scandinavian. Those ladies have been in the air since the days when it was a dreamy, glamorous job to ask strangers if they would like coffee or tea. That's a long time!

Only one bathroom was working.
I'm still cross people did not applaud my speed as I did my business in seconds out of politeness to other passengers also about to crash.

It's difficult even writing about my fear of flying. I feel it might be prophetic and that I will crash and people will point to the blog and say "look, she knew. but wait, if she really knew, would she have bragged about her toilet habits?".

I might, I'm so mysterious.

Come fly the friendly skies with me.

That top picture has nothing to do with this post. I just feel I have to share my kids and the LeGuelaff Breezes.


Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Minute by minute

Dear Marc, in an attempt to make up for the long dry spell when I didn't post a single entry, but instead went to Bath and met up with loved friends (see top pic)I am posting you on the fly.

Like right now, I'm at Heathrow, on my way to Sweden for a brief visit to the IKEA HQ in the deep of Småland.

I'm drinking wine, cause I don't like to fly.
I hope I make it through customs with all these liquids inside.
It's so warm here, I had to strip down to a very flimsy Paul & Joe top. So now I will be perceived as a drunk menopausal woman on her way to the homeland.

Not the way I intended my comeback.


ps. Heatrow or Heathrow? At this stage, the facts are hard to remember.

ps.2. those babies are twins. World, are you ready for the magic of Ted & Ruben? The cutest.

hungrig? hungry?

Alla som tycker om glädje och mat måste läsa
"om jag vore din hemmafru".

Read "om jag vore din hemmafru". Teach yourself Swedish if you must in order to understand. It's worth it. As a plus, you'll be able to sing along with ABBA in their native language.

Here's one more reason. to learn Swedish.

Put your freezer to better use.

Matte Stephens freezer. Who needs food?

Friday, March 16, 2007

A great little piece of news

Our national church has finally come to their senses and now tells the world same sex couples are now also welcome to get married under a the roof of a Swedish state church just like any other couple united by love, passion or habit.


Wednesday, March 14, 2007

I may buy this

Dear Marc, having read an appalling doom& gloom article on the potential environmental disasters our children and grand children may have to face unless the world changes its ways, I lay awake questioning myself.

The worst scenario left little to be happy for. The words ”only fungi survive” etched themselves into my mind and I tried to come up with ways I could alter my own contribution to the speedy decay of the planet.

I thought of the buy-nothing-day. It seemed so futile. A buy-nothing-month, or perhaps buy-nothing-year would make more sense. I’ve had my clothes and perfume swapping parties, but here in London I know few people who’d trade their clothes for mine.

Therefore I have decided to cut down on spending instead. Below are the few key items I may buy for the next decade to come.

I may buy:

One pair of sun glasses inexpensive enough not to cause mourning when (not if) I lose them

Two pairs of jeans, since that’s all I really wear and my favourite pair is stuck at the drycleaners after I lost the mending receipt

Tops, since the many machine washes of my few 3 tops is surely harmful to both the environment and my relationship to sound sensitive neighbours

Socks, cause A will soon notice that I’m constantly wearing his (much too big ones, with the heels making unattractive little pouches right above the back of my sneakers)

I may absolutely not buy, at any cost, whatever the circumstances:

Any more fun vintage party dresses in happy colours

Any more LBD’s

Any more nice shoes or boots, since with my feet they’re only a waste of time, money and cobbler talent

Nice sunglasses like everyone in Holland Park wear, (but if I’m lucky and look properly I should be able to find a dropped pair on the ground)

Should not spend money on:

Revolutionary Cinderella-effect haircut, since I should really have learned by now that they do not exist, especially not when offered by magazine in horrible make over seen by every acquaintance, ex and job contact in the country.

May perhaps spend money on:
Environmentally immoral trip to Sweden for haircut and foot assessment by trusted professionals like Hasse.

If failing to follow these rules, remember:


Tell me your lists.



Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Or any other place

Anyone who's got a good idea for a quick escape from London for 2 people, please help. We love taking the train. And enjoy long breakfasts.

Bed, Bath and beyond

Dear Marc, I hear you're in Arizona, hope you're doing fine.
I'll be leaving the city too this weekend, going for a short trip to Bath.
It was decided after Anders uttered the highly unlikely words "Emi, what do you say we go to Bath and check out the Jane Austen museum"?

Have you or anyone reading this been to Bath? Know any good hotels? We'll only be staying for one night.


-e, who will soon go see Becoming Jane to get in the spirit. But will an empire cut dress I will not. Did it ever look good on ANYONE? I might run over some dry grass though. Seems that's all they did back in the day, sometimes hurting their ankles. You know I can relate to people with pains below the knees.

Monday, March 12, 2007

I had been warned

Dear Marc, you look so healthy now, I'm sure you follow a diet of Volvic, algae and organic raspberries. I'm all for organic, hoping new ways of old school farming will help the world and our health. But I was not prepared for the level of organic thinking they have here in the UK. Mind you, i had been warned. In one sentence, my new friend Natasha summed it up:

As soon as you get to London you're going to discover that the English middle classes are obsessed with organic food and willing to pay prices equivalent to a really good seat at the theatre for fair-traded organically produced green beans flown in from Kenya and if you asked me REALLY dubiously organic.

I had been warned. I should not have been surprised. Chewing on an organic spelt croissant (my apologies to French pastry-orthodox reades), Vanja correctly concluded that the treat was good but more bread than croissant.

After a supper of organic salad, organic salami and organic blueberries (flown in environmentally unsound, from Chile! The horror!) I went to bed.

I had a dream, like women my age often do, that I had another lovely baby.
The child was gorgeous and to top off my self-congratulatory middle classedness, she had a big brown liver spot on her back. At closer inspection, the spot read "100% organic". I bet not even Apple has that!

what did you dream last night?

Everyday magic

How do Waitrose make them stop? Is it magic or magneticism?


Do this don't

Dear Marc, did you ever try to try on clothes with two kids in your fitting room?
It's fun! But you'll never get to try on the clothes.


Thursday, March 08, 2007

When you want to feel cute or happy

Dear Marc when you want to feel

Cute listen to Nightingale with lisa ekdahl
Happy listen to last night with the strokes
In love listen to Tripping out with curtis mayfield

now tell me your best happy tunes.
I'm collecting songs for my upcoming walking tours of joy.
I want tracks that will make me explode from joy of living joie de vivre lebenslust

cute greetings

As if losing Studio 60 wasn't bad enough

Rome! All gore and evil. Whorenius going berserk and everything turning ugly and sad.
I studied classics at the University. I marvelled at the ingenious plumbing, the heated floors, the aqueducts, the terme, the paintings, the tragic of Pompeii and Herculaneum, the intrigues, Anthony & Cleopatra, Cesar & Cleopatra, the women, the gossip, the colours, the gladiators, the madness.

I went to India, partly because I think that is as close you can come to ancient day Rome.

But never once did I imagine you could take all this, all that was once Rome and make it into a tv-series that couldn't hold my interest for even an hour. Does it pick up after the first episode of the 2nd season?

This is what I turn to, in my hour of disappointment. I stole it from my dad when I was 12, it has never ever let me down.



Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Bags bags bags

Dear Marc, people assume I am obsessed I'm with you because of the more than 350 letters I've written so far, but I ask you and the readers of the world, who's more of a nut, a blogger or any of the thousands of women who pay large large large amounts to be walking ads for the marc's label?

Ok, so I may still bring home the nut trophy. Perhaps I should venture over to the other side and get a bag instead. Problem is that I'm one of those people who have problems hanging on to the material world. I get lost in thought and lose things as I go, leaving a trail of jackets, wallets, books, and (one time only, promise) stroller behind.

I'm a woman of woman born. Naturally, I too, would like to have a nice handbag. But I couldn't buy a nice one, since I'm so certain to lose it.

You may wonder how such a distracted person dare to have children. Here's the great thing about kids: They know your name and recognize your face. So if you could only make a bag that cries out "Emi, don't leave me" when I accidentally forget it on the subway, I would seriously consider buying one.

I, and other potential customers would appreciate the multi-voice settings such a bag could have. You could have your own mellow MJ-voice built in and let customers choose between add-ons such as "the arnold". "the ellen" and the "Barry White".

I think this could be really big in Japan.

Love from the department of unsolicited product development.

In my part of London

Dear Marc, enough is enough, you will not hear a word more on the topic of my feet. Even I am so sick of this!

Instead, I'm focusing on the good. Let me show you the charms of my new neighbourhood.

Isn't this the nicest plantshop you ever saw? Can you see the plants and flowers embracing the house itself? Flowers love it there! And isn't that word "nurserymen" so comforting? I'd love to have a bunch of them at home.

I pass this car almost every day. See how it's so pretty even the tree behind it is trying to impress it, breaking out in bloom although winter's not even over? I understand. I find myself putting on a little gloss when I'm about to pass this car. I think she's Italian, and as all Italian women, she makes me a little self consious cause she herself is so...Southern European and well put together in her bite sized format.

This is a kind of sign I've never seen at home. I understand they refer to the room, but I can't help myself from thinking about the actual toilet. Perhaps I'm alone in this, but I feel this sign was put up to stop the Borats of the world from thirstily going headfirst into the bowl. Very incontinent tap too.


Friday, March 02, 2007

To illustrate my point

What will this look like when I have to team the dresses above with my new MBT's?

What I want for Christmas: miracle cure that make bunions disappear into thin air.

Ps. John, if you're reading, that emergency outcry below goes out to you too. Perhaps you could create a pink satin MBT with a little fake fur trimming? As a visual tribute, I'd don a thin mustache to thank you.

The verdict is in

Dear Marc, would you like to see a little bit of my skeleton?

Great, here you are:

The image to the right is a colour drawing of my foot. The only thing missing in this picture is a twin bunion on the other side of the foot, placed in the middle of the small toe.

As you can imagine, having double bunions on already wide feet presents me with immense shoe problems. I was looking forward to surgery, dreaming about little stilettoes, Jimmy Choo miracles made of nothing but gold thread and perhaps a few sparkling stones and a little smiling cameo face of Tamara Mellon inserted into the heel, but those dreams were crushed yesterday.

I went to see a podiatrist who told me surgery was only a great option if I could not take two steps without experiencing the worst of pains.

She also told me that since I do not hurt barefoot, "your shoes are the problem, not your feet".
This leaves me with the rest of a very long future, the rest of my life, in comfortable and therefore ugly shoes.


Why are we, the already handicapped, left to wear shoes that would only make a hairy hobbit happy?

Shocked by the news of my future, I went into overdrive and bought two pairs of very unflattering but anatomically correct trainers for many more pounds that I can afford. I wil return them tomorrow.

Between Darfur, the environment crisis and your president's plans for Irak, the state of my feet is a very minor issue for you to ponder, Im sure. But I'm not alone! There is money to be made from our growing bunions! You could take our cash and give it to the charity of your choice.

Then, bunions would finally be a source of not just pain, misery and grief, but also of new hope. You could make that difference.

Ps. This letter is not only for your eyes, Marc. Manolo, if you're reading, Stella, Christian L, Yves and Miuccia, if you feel like giving it a try - do go ahead. I'm not picky.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

If you have an RSS feed

you must hate me.

Dressing in the difficult years.

Dear Marc, in the words of Britney spears I would like to tell you that:

I'm not a girl,
Not yet a woman.
All I need is time,
A moment that is mine,
While I'm in between.

I thought that at this age (which I'm not disclosing, I'm younger than you but older than Brit) I would surely have reached a more womanly state of mind. But I have not.

When will this pass?
Do you know?
You must have heard this lament from thousands of women? Your latest Marc Jacobs line was so day dreamy, but too mature for the ingenue in me. I'm more drawn to the Marc by Marc Jacobs line, but unfortunately my interior ingenue is not reflected by my exterior, the body and face that the rest of the world sees. I'm like Dorian Grey's portrait, reversed, the way age usually works.

I'm looking for ways to make peace with this ageing, that came out of the nowhere called time. Especially for this weird phase between girl and real woman.

I think this is what I'd like to be wearing in the moment that is mine, the in between time.

Look, she's not wearing heels and it looks OK. What a relief for sore feet. All I need now is much longer, sleeker hair, and a more inuit-ish face.

This third look I'm throwing in for fun. If it looks like this on a super slender teen model, imagine what it will look like on women who can actually afford Givenchy.