The Fashion In Shrouds

I overdosed on goose, black truffle, Gewürztraminer, parade uniforms and champagne last night, so I've been feeling rather under the weather today, but I had a fantastic New Year's Eve and I hope you all did, too. Happy new year!

Bridal tax! Never come across the term before, but that is an awesome, awesome concept and I love the phrasing, too. I've done wedding work that was a pleasure, but I've encountered the nightmare variety too and, well, let's just say that I'd rather do several kinds of menial, boring and soulless work for less money than working at a wedding boutique again, even if it means lots of sewing. I don't think I'm cut out for it.

I don't understand why anyone with a normal economy would want to spend the wedding gown kind of money on an absurd dress you can only wear once in your life, for instance. No offense to anyone, I realize that lots of people do it and think it's worth it, but personally I just don't get it. I would so much rather spend it on a garment I could get a lot of use out of - a really great coat, or a party dress I could use again and again, or a tailored suit, even that perfect pair of pumps I will never have unless I get them made for me. But a thousand dollars' worth of all but useless meringue? Insanity!

Too tired to stay on topic, will very likely delete this tomorrow when I'm feeling less emotional.

My mother is traveling in Malaysia and Thailand. They've been in Malaysia for the last few weeks, but are set to fly to Bangkok tomorrow and the flight home is due from Bangkok to Helsinki  on Friday - that will be interesting, all of it. Apparently Air Asia were actually counting on being able to land them in Bangkok tomorrow, somehow, keeping my fingers crossed.

Meanwhile, my phone is rung down by my grandmother, who is hysterical because she can't tell the difference between Mumbai and Malaysia, and with her extremely bourgeois childhood memories of the Ådalen incidents is terrified that mother is going to a country where people demonstrate against the government. Canaille! etc, etc until my ears are sore. She's a museum piece, literally; quite possibly the last living person in Sweden who thinks of the Ådalen riots as a terrible historical series of events not because civilians were shot to death by the military, but because she was so afraid of the horrible workers.

The dress is progressing. I think it might turn out great - the colour scheme is quite Red Army, although with silver buttons. My customer doesn't like goldtone anything, and although I think it would have looked fantastic on this one I don't like it much either, so I can't say I blame her.

I also managed to persuade my asocial brother to let us feed him tonight, while carefully avoiding the dreaded birthday word, and we had a very nice dinner. Think I know what to get him for his 28th on Tuesday now.

Also, the short but intense season of neo-Nazi demonstrations in Sweden starts today, the death day of Karl XII, who ruled Sweden in the early 18th century.
Some of the highlights of his reign included the battle of Poltava, which Sweden lost so spectacularly that "like the Swedes at Poltava" is apparently still a Russian proverb for someone who is completely feckless, and 6 years spent in the Ottoman empire where he got along with sultan Ahmed III like a house on fire, and brought home a number of Turkish customs and words when he eventually returned to Sweden. A great king and a very colourful character, no doubt, but I'll never quite understand why the neo-Nazis chose one of our most cosmopolitan, open-minded, racially and religiously unprejudiced kings to demonstrate in honour of. It's pretty funny, though.

We've spent the night in the emergency ward, A got something that seemed like it could be a deep-vein thrombosis yesterday. It isn't, thankfully; it's an infection that has led to an inflammation in one leg. He's on penicillin now.
On top of everything else I trod on something yesterday, so I have a hole in my foot and also a cold, again. Some days you really should just stay in bed and try to keep out of harm's way.

I just got a loving, sentimental drunken phone call from a close friend who lives far away, and now I feel all mushy and sentimental myself, so here's to darling Camilla.



Love!