torsdag 11 mars 2010

...................I LOVE THURSDAYS........................


Because that is the day before fridays. And fridays are usually just lovely.
Anyhow, today, I got up, ate porridge, and then I took the bus to the Rådhus to meet some nice people, and to fix a new passport. I must say that I'm not very content with how it all turned out. First of all I went to the wrong part of the Rådhus and ended up sitting among the badly dressed witnesses ´(one of them had a yellow jacket with purple stripes, and a pair of leopard pants to match it with...), watching laywers desperatly running back and fort carrying enourmus breifcases. I felt a bit misplaced to say the least. After a while I finally realized that I could call Matilda, and she guided me to the right place. Well there, I had to take a new pass photo... and I look like a criminal wearing very strange clothes, having an even stranger hair cut. Usch och blä. Well, the rest of the day has been great because the sun is up, and I found the tastiest yoghurt ever in the fridge. Nice.

måndag 8 mars 2010

I love you Paul Poiret.

Well, love is a strong word, ready to lick his feet (to get a piece of clothing of course...) is a better way to describe it. After writing 1500 words (not that much, I know) about this fat, short, bald, French fashion designer I'm quite amazed over what he achived. He was one of the first to use marketing, and public relations, as a tool to sell clothes (there I just gave you my thesis...) and his influence on fashion today is still enormous. I understand why, just look at these amazing clothes! Talk about creativity at its best. Poiret was highly influenced by the orient, and as he threw parties on the same themes as his collections he forced the cremé de la cremé of Paris to buy his clothes. You were simply not allowed to enter the dream world he created in his villa unless you were dressed in his extravagant design, that made the parties work as a catwalk. As the guests often were famous women, such as Josephine Baker and Isadora Duncan, these women drew attention of the press, a smart strategy. The designer wanted to make fashion into a more recognized art form, and he collaborated with the most famous illustrators during the la belle epoqué, such as Ertré, Lepape (see the one below)and Paul Irbe. Together with them he made beautiful albums (equal to the fashion catalogues of today)that was handed out to wealthy, and important clients. I can assure you that my essay is a bit fuller than this, but at least now my lovely mum can see that I'm using my fashion knowledge for something good. If she ever had any doubts that is.

lördag 6 mars 2010

PAINPAINPAIN BUT I DID IT ANYWAY


Yesterday I did something that is very typical of me: I was incredible impulsive. I decided the day before yesterdday that it was time to do something about my old (2 yrs) and not that beautiful tattoo (according to me taht is, mum), a flower on my left wrist. Anyway I called a tattoist and got an apointment. So today I've got a black heart, drawn by me, on my (hurting and double sized) wrist, instead.

A few nice people from the class accompanied me to the hell hole where I was due to lie on a bench, having a needle covered in paint being squeezed into my poor wrist. My plan was for Anna to hold my hand, but that wasn't allowed as the tattooist "was very determent to keep the hygiene at a good level". Fuck it liksom, I really needed that support! Because MAJ GAD it hurt. It was worse than when an elephant steps at your toe, it felt more like ten elephants dancing to Pussycat Dolls, wearing high heels too.
I actually think it was the worst time of my life, and according to Anna (who were nice enough to stay outside to pick up the pieces, and to see the final result) you could hear my screamings all the way to the waiting room. Must point out here that I did sing a bit too to get some nice thoughts in my head and not just "motherfcukinghelvetejävlaskit I am an idiooootpuckat pucko I'll never ever do this again".

It's a quite large tattoo (not huge), but I like it as it actually feels a bit like me, if you know what I mean. Now I can say that I always follow my heart and just point in the direction I want to go (höhö).
The best part of it all? I have to do it again to refill the black color. So if anyone knows someone who are in contact with a drug dealer, please call me.

onsdag 3 mars 2010

The best beer commercial


According to David. I agree, if I drank beer I probably would choose this one. It´s so pure.