For the love of Carmen Miranda

Dear Marc, I was once a member of The Sweptaways, an all ladies singing ensemble. And when I say once, I mean it, I only attended once. My main reason to join was to befriend the interesting and beautiful singing ladies. Alas, my lack of talent and ambition told me to stay home the following week, and the week after that.

But look at them! Their lust for life, their adorable fruity headscarves, their we're not wearing black today attitude, it's enough to make me want to run back and ask them to take me back.
They sing tributes to Carmen and Kate Bush. If you know the lyrics to Wuthering Heights, you can sing along with the video below.

Love
-e

That 1000 dollar olive

Dear Marc, you're a successful man and as such, I'm sure you've had your share of luxury treats and foods, although I understand you mostly subsist on coffee and cigarettes.

But people must have treated you to caviar, to champagne and truffles. In the past 10 years, have you ever had to make do with one lonely pita pocket cause you were out of cash?

I'm not wealthy in the way that you are, but I still feel a kind of kinship with you, since I once ate a single 1000 dollar olive.

It wasn't the taste or the place that made this olive so precious. I consumed it in a Spanish roadside joint as part of a highly forgettable meal. Having enjoyed tortilla and cerveza, I picked up a simple black canned olive and felt my tooth crack against the pit of what I mistakenly thought was a pitless olive.


Half a tooth fell out right there and then, the other half a month later. Not one to mince words, my mother told me I was now kind of shabby looking. She offered to pay for the replacement. I happily accepted and then tried to convince her my post-nursing bustline might also need a small lift. My mom is generous but she's got limits. She told me to get a better bra and go see my dentist.











The dentist gave me the financial verdict. It would cost me 1000 dollars to restore my lovely full set of teeth. That would include a titanium screw (sure beats buns of steel) and a fake tooth. My dentist said perhaps my insurance would cover some of it.

The other day I received word from the insurance company. They agreed to pay part of the procedure in order to give me a "functionally and aesthetically acceptable result".

This means I have it on paper that my current grin is aesthetically unacceptable.
I find this fact so funny that I may not go ahead with the procedure at all.

Just wishing I'd kept the olive pit that caused it all.
I wish I'd kept all the legendary treasures of my life.
The step of stairs that scarred me at 5. The pen that a friend stabbed me with at 12.

What do you wish you'd kept?
Love
-e

Stripping is dangerous!

Dear Marc, did you read about how Hilary Swank was injured when a stripping co-worker had his suspenders flying because of his sexy moves? They hit ms Swank in the forehead, doctors had to sew her up!

Lesson learned: when you're witnessing a striptease, be sure to put on a helmet first. Or run, run for your life, run like the wind, like Hilary Swank can, when you see someone starting to untuck shirts and touch their flys. You could end up in stiches.

Love
-e

ps. When will we see this clip on YouTube? When? When? I don't think I'm the only one. Chad are you with me on this?

About to go to bed, dreaming of clothes

Dear Marc, this look is wonderful. I'd love to see it on ten different women to see who can do it justice. It's hard even for the model to look smashing and serious here, there's something so cheerful and jokey about the pants. Thanks for showing us that fashion can also be about having fun, looking ridiculous and still having room for a puppy or two in your leg area.

I want those pants like I want longer legs and world peace.

I also crave the following look, which might work easier in my professional life.
I now feel I need those clothes. I'm pasting my head on that little model body and maybe I could get away with it. It's either that or I'll have to print out that exact doe eyed model face and make a mask for myself.

Or better yet, make a printout of the model in the clothes and glue that picture to my entire body. Who cares, I'm freelancing from home. In a web cam meeting, I'll look convincing enough.


















love
-e

Why don't you have some dancing meat balls

Dear Marc I tried to make a musical for you. I hope it's working, please excuse the Mark-spelling of your name, I couldn't fix it.

love
-e

Words that don't come easy

Dear Marc, I don't know if you read that letter about Swedish words? Now I can't stop thinking about this vulgar language of ours.

(If easily disgusted, stop reading here.)

We were talking about breasts the other day, and now I'm about to tell you a word somewhat related to mammaries. Let's talk a little about the placenta, the tree of life. Your clever people stuck with the latin word. My people did not. My people were nuts. They decided to call it "moderkaka". The mother cake. There is nothing more to say about this, although I would like to have the elders apologize for their unfortunate coinage.

After the birth of my first child, having declined to look at the miracle of pre-natal nutrition, I went to have lunch in the self-service dining room at the hospital. They were offering steak that day. Next to the dish, a small printed note (made by a vegetarian?) brusquely told us to control our appetite. The message was short and to the point: "Only one meat mound/person". Bara en kötthög/person.

Word of the day: Kötthög.

Pronounciation: Chuttt-hoaeg.


With a language like ours, it's easy to bow down to the English. But no one wants to stand on the lowest step of the language ladder. We Swedes want to look down on someone too. That's why we love the Finns. The Finns call bags "pussi". So when you're in Finland buying potato chips, you can choose between getting a "Minipussi" or a "Megapussi". So handy!



















love
-e

The t-shirt bra - and its appalling lack of allure

Dear Marc, I have a co-worker I love. Right now I love her more than ever, cause she told me she refuses to wear t-shirt bras. She thought they're made out of old t-shirts. "They're disgusting!".

What's the best misconception you've caught on tape today?
love
-e

I turn to disco

Dear Marc, things are happening here, and I might have big news for you very soon.
As always, I turn to disco (in this case Kelly Marie) when trying to describe my emotional status:

My head is in a spin
My feet don't touch the ground
Because you're near to me
My head goes round and round
My knees are shakin' baby
My heart beats like a drum

I can't tell you more right now. Will get back to you with updates.
Meanwhile, a blizzard brought us back to a time before automobiles.
November 1st rolled around, and like an intern taking her new job way too seriously, the first of the winter months brought so much snow that buses and trains and cars were brought to a halt. A had to walk for an hour through the storm to get back to our house.

It made me feel like I was living out a fantasy from the Little House on the Prairie. And you know I like that.

How's life in the world of fashion? Snowy on the outside, special on the inside?
Yours etc,
-e

From the horse's mouth

Dear readers, you love Marc. Here he is, interviewed.
He always seems so....nice and smart.

Sometimes when you're not so grateful

Dear Marc, have you ever wanted to send an un-Thank you card?
Finally, there is one. Thanks Hester!

The best reason to have kids

Dear Marc, when I browsed a magazine today with my son, he blurted out "mommy" as we hit a page with Tina Fey. In the pic above, I'm trying to repeat that wonderful moment.
Who would you most like to resemble? Why?
love
-e.

Ps. That same question goes out to anyone reading this. It doesn't matter if your name isn't Marc.

Autumn Joy

Dear Marc, it's fall, my favourite time of year. It's a bookish season, never too hot ot humid, a season always up for a brisk walk before tea by the fire. It's like nature whispering "I'm a Cambridge man, but I'm not just educated, I'm also entertaining, let me show you how I can set myself on fire". The temperature encourages layering and materials such a wool, cashmere and leather. God I love fall and went for walks all weekend.
















Saturday I spotted two specimens of that rare breed, Homo Urbanus, in the wild! I believe they had escaped their natural habitat, the ad agency, to look for food before taking off to warmer lands for winter. Leaving the urban men behind, I kept walking.















I then stumbled over some Picassos, enjoying themselves in the grass and the sun.
By now, my legs were getting tired and I had to eat something. I went for cinnamon buns and coffee.















As you can tell by this picture, service was speedy!
Fall, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
With a new fall coat, new cardigan and deep blue jeans, I feel almost all set. Now if I could only find stylish orthopedic boots, I would be delirious with happiness.
Let me know if you know where I could find some.

Love
-e

Pardon my language

Dear Marc, be happy you're American. I'm Swedish. Sweden's a small country filled with Swedes, speaking an archaic language understood by roughly 9 million people and (perhaps) a handful of Danes.

Your language is beautiful and varied, enrichened by the creative, violent and strange history behind it.

You have words like nipple. A wonderful, fun, pert little word. Know what nipple is called in Swedish? Bröstvårta. Breast wart. All tingly now? It's like a word made up by a dull viking, intending to kill all sensuality by use of language alone.

You have areolas. We have vårtgård. A wart yard. Touch it. Would you? Why would anyone ever want to?

The people that invented Swedish hated boobs and love. They must have. There is no other explanation.

love
-e, writing in English for obvious reasons

The devil wears yada yada

Dear Marc, so I went to see "The Devil wears Prada" the other day. I went to one of those old movie theatres. It opened to the public back in 1923. There I was, relaxing in the dark, wishing they'd only serve beer too, like they do in Amsterdam. I was having a "life is 99% perfect" moment. This was before the movie started, though, cause the movie itself cut life perfectancy down to 65%.

Meryl Streep, Stanley Tucci and Anne Hathaway's hair were all great. As was Adrian Grenier, it seems the man can't help it. But it's hard to watch an entire movie when you can't feel a thing for the heroine.















Andy was so annoyingly perky and such a good girl, so lacking in personality, charm and wits that her antagonist, the supposedely horrible enemy-Emily had me wishing the film was about her instead. How Adrian ever fell for Andy seemed inexplicable, but there were a few hints letting us know that he couldn't help himself when faced with great lingerie. She had him on a lacy leash adorned with C-cups.

I didn't even feel Meryl was mean. I thought she made sense. Andy? I wanted to fire her, break up with her and disown her.

At least some of the clothes were great. And there was talk of you and your bags.
When did you last go to the movies?

Come over, let's watch any of Edith Head's creations.


















Love
-e

Oooh what a little make-up can doooo!

Dear Marc, do you ever wonder if you've reached your best self? Do you look your best, or is there something you could change and suddenly, there would be a new and improved you, a Marc that would make the world stop and stare in awe? I nurse a Cinderella dream like anyone else. But rarely do we see such great results as in the case of Heather Sweet.




















She was always pretty. She was a Heather. But with the help of great underwear, good shaving tools, classy make-up and dark hair dye, she became Dita.























Who wouldn't want be carried by dead lions to the next business meeting? Put a spin on things. Spice it up a little. Others might look ridiculous in that getup and lion. Put Oprah on there, it wouldn't fly. Or would it?She kind of gets away with anything. Put me up there, I'd look like a woman pretending to be a kid pretending to be a woman. But Dita looks positively regal.

Dita and you make me wonder what your knowledge and experience could do for my looks. Could we do a make-over on me? A modern Cinderella tale with the two of you as my fairy God mothers?

Lately, however, I've come to doubt that I'm Cinderella material. Your shoes don't fit my feet. I might be one of the unfortunate sisters. Say it ain't so. Say it ain't so!

love
-e, I mean, Drizella.

Baby pink boots

Dear Marc, looking for the perfect pair of boots, this is the feeling I'm after.
Can you help?

love
-e

Ps. The pic is taken by the talented mr Lind, co-creator of Wonderwall.

Forbidden fruit

Dear Marc, look what we found in the apple orchard behind our house.
Now I understand why Adam and Eve had to take that unfortunate bite!
All of a sudden I'm humming Bonita Applebum.
Sing with the tribe.

-e

Thank you Jordan!

Dear Marc, can you sing? I can't. It's ok, I can do other things. Knit. Make scones. But sing I can not, although it's topping my list of talents I wish I had. I wish I had Sade's voice. Or Lauryn Hill's. Or Ginger Roger's or Cesaria Evora's. But I'm stuck with a squeaky voice, barely tolerable to the human ear.

That's why Jordan's new duet with hubby Peter Andree makes me all fuzzy and warm on the inside. She sounds like me! And she shares her serenading with the whole world! I haven't heard anything as inspiring since Cameron Diaz liberating karaokeing in rom-com classic "My best friend's wedding".

Perhaps this is the dawn of a new era. Move over Celine, Christina, ladies with voices. We, the non-singers are coming, sharing our weakest, taking over your hearts. Or perhaps just your ears.

Thank you Jordan, for showing that the weakest side can be the most endearing.
love
-e

From Vinny with love

Dear Marc, if you're just stopping by, let me tell you that I would write you personlized poems for your Christmas gifts too, if you only told me what you're giving who.

But since you haven't grabbed this opportunity, I've been busy helping others. Like Vinny, who's presenting her jet setting sis Elizabeth with a knee-length copper coloured jacket.

Here you go, Vinny:

Elizabeth darling, here’s a material kiss
A token of love from your bohemian sis
It may keep you warm, but who really cares
Important thing is, it will guarantee stares

I mean looks of that great kind that you already know
The kind you’ve grown used to – in sun and in snow
It’s made of a fabric in the (other) colour of money
I think you will like it, it’ll look great on you, honey

But since you’re a woman you might still be concerned
And since I’m one too, I have my lesson learned
This time, don’t you worry – it DOES make you look skinny
Big hugs, lots of kisses from your sister Vinny

Be a doll!

Dear Marc, one of the great things of being a parent is that it means you get to visit the toy store all over again.

So much has happened since we were kids. Or did you get handsome boy dolls for your b-day? I know I didn't.

Today at the toy store, I saw Mattel had put their brilliant minds to use for my sake. They've made a male cobbler doll in tights. Cute Prince Derek comes in a set with twelve pairs of shoes. What more could you ask for? That they'd made a Prince Marc instead?

As a perk, you'd get to see yourself in various Mattel styled versions. Here's another take on Derek.



















Isn't he hot? He looks a bit like Jermaine Jackson back in the days. Or like Jermaine's kid with a happy, more hairy Pharrell.



















I hope you're up next. With 12 pairs of glasses to make dressing you up more fun.
-e

ps. I just found this way better pic of dreamy Derek (with curiously amber brows) at a wonderful, not to be missed for anything site: The man behind the doll - Keeping Ken

Overheard in the office

On the topic of lowering, nay axing, one's standards:

Girl on phone:
But I found shoes! The're not wowish or anything. Not at all. But they are black shoes, and they're available in my size.

Don't read this, Marc

Dar marc, this one is not for you, it's a personalized poem for Daddylikey and her man.
He's from Mexico, loves to brush his teeth and she wants to give him a sauce pan. You have any gifts for your own friends and you want a personalized poem, let me know. BTW, Vinny, you're next.

Nicko, niquito, te quiero, chiquito
Listen to my story before it’s finito
You are my sweetheart, to you I’ll stay true
Stash away that toothbrush, these words are for you

I can’t be romantic while you’re brushing away
Please let me explain what I feel at the end of the day
Let me tell you sweet nothings and maybe some more
Then we’ll hop in your car and head right for the store

You know I love shopping and fashion and stuff
But when it comes to my love life, I’ve got more than enough
So go grab you car keys and let’s head for the mall
If you lose track of my sizing, just give me a call.

I love you, sweet darling from Guadalajara
I’ll stay your sweetie, your Scarlett o´Hara
Before you know it, you won’t give a damn
Until you do, enjoy this sauce…..

Happy Birthday Borat

Dear Marc, did you know Borat's turning 35? Ali G, Borat and Sacha Baron Cohen all turn 35 today and I'm sure they celebrate with that gorgeous talented redhead star Isla Fisher from Wedding Crashers. I know I would.

We're open for X-mas!

Dear Marc, I know your family's Jewish, so perhaps Christmas has never been that big of a deal at your house.

At my place, it's a big deal. And it starts now. Starting today, I will accept requests for rhyming verses for your Christmas gifts. Tell me what you're giving, the name of the person you're giving it to and a few character traits and I'll make you a short verse.

It's free. What do you have to lose?
e-mail me your info if you're paranoid and don't want to reveal what you're giving.

love
emi@lovegun.net

Lisa vs. Diddy

Dear Marc, I will write you a real letter soon, but 'til I do, can we talk a little about Lisa Nova?

She's a YouTube star. She's a real star. Real funny and real real.

P Diddy just put up his own channel on YouTube. Moments later, Lisa is his major competition.

A little over 600 000 has watched Diddy's ridiculous clip. Almost 500 000 has watched Lisa's parody. No money was spent on marketing. The internet - it's such a beautiful thing.

I give you Diddy.



I give you Lisa.



Who gets your love? You know who's got mine.

Just another day at the office

Dear Marc, today was like any other day at the office. Kate was told secrets by a strange friend.
And then, I too, took a walk with half a naked mannequin. Kate and I then proceeded to buy $2000 worth of merchandise for work, mostly lingerie.


















I had lunch. Wrote a few e-mails.

Wrote a few lines about Christmas time. You know all about thinking ahead, don't you? What collection are you working on? Fall 2007? Spring 2008? What's that like, living life in the future?

I live most of my life in the past.

Post-lunch, I googled the Malm whale, the world's only stuffed blue whale.
It stranded an unfortunate afternoon back in 1865. You had that civil war thing going on, we had eternal cold and famine. A stuffed whale was big news. Especially since the whale was eventually touched by the gifted hands of interior decorators, spiffing up the whale interior with wall papper and a little cafe.

Little did the stuffers know that a long dead whale cafe can be a turn on to some people. The cafe was shut down after an amorous couple got caught going at it inside the whale.

You think I'm making this up?

I couldn't.

I pondered my happy fate, so glad I'm not a stuffed dead animal/cafe/love nest.

Then I wrote a verse for a friend I've never met. She needs a poem about dinousaurs.

Then this.

What did you do today?

love from a friend far away.
-e

Oh! October!

Dear Marc, this morning, we took an alternative route to pre-school.














I met up with lovely Sara and baby Lee.















Then I took the kids to dinner at our friends' place. Only people under 5 were allowed to cook. Vanja knows how to make pizza.














And Joel sure knows how to enjoy himself. What did you do? Another fashion week somewhere in the world?

love
-e

Land of promised buns

It's a small day for man, but a grand one for cinnamon rolls.

The road to pre-school

Celebrating Cinnamon

Dear Marc, I hope you haven't missed out on cinnamon rolls today, it's their day. At least here in Swedenland. This means that I have to cut this workday short and go straight to pre-school to enjoy a batch of childmade buns.

Perhaps it tastes different when really small hands have kneaded the dough. I need dough too, but in a different way.

Tomorrow I will show you. You will be a part of this experience.
The smell of cinnamon oozing from the screeen will be so intense it will make you sneeze.

Closing with a pic of other important baked goods. Read on, Sara Lee rocks triumphant in this interesting story about sugar, flour and patriotic feelings.