DAS WANDERN
Some people want to know whether I always wear earrings and lipstick while wandering through the Norwegian woods. Yes. I do. Today I had my diamond and emerald chandelier earrings on. I always put on the jewellery that matches the weather, and as today the clouds surrounded monochromatically the mountains while sailing in the 100 year-old boat, Fram, I thought that it would be appropriate to go crystal. In terms of clothes and makeup I had my Chanel lipstick on – that’s all – Prada black jeans, Bubetti black boots, a beautiful cashmere shirt from Maharishi, and a woollen sweater from Petit Sophisticates. Underneath: cheap white cotton panties from the supermarket Bilka, and an expensive bra from Prima Dona (the classical type, not the lace crap). When the sun is shining I go for all Italian. Like yesterday. Pants from Napapijri, which I bought some 5 years ago, here in Norway, and white linen from Mottivi. Well, the trekking boots are German: my favourite from Birkenstock.
Now, some would say, what’s with the fuss? Or the snobbism? And who the hell is going to see all this in the middle of nowhere? For once, the fuss is all about quality – and I’m no even that original there. The Scots formulated it already. “I’m too poor to afford cheap crap.” So quality never has anything to do with fussing. I’m still wearing my Bubetti boots, which, yes, did cost me a small fortune when I bought them, but still look rather smashing after 12 years of intense wear. So, they were worth the investment. Secondly, there’s always someone you run into: yourself. Like, when you reflect yourself into the perfectly mirroring water and realize that your Cordoba earrings make it look all the more beautiful, you feel good about yourself. You feel good about having learnt that having an acute sense of distinction makes more difference than merely claiming that you yourself, through your acts, make a difference. I believe in objects. Some objects. They keep us sane when we want to go: wow, I must have been Norwegian in another life time, or at least half Norwegian! On the other hand, as the mountain sent back crystal vibrations through my ears today, I also thought that being half crazy, instead of half of the other thing, is all right. Good style perspires, and has transcending power. The Norwegians, who are mainly a bunch of peasants and for the most part can’t tell the difference between silk and polyester, when they see you strutting your designer stuff, think twice before passing judgement on you as soon as they hear that you come from Romania, originally. They don’t see so quickly a country full of poverty and orphaned children anymore. They see an individual rich bitch, whom they are more than willing to serve. “Follow the money” works every time, even out in the wilderness. Thus, we connect, with whatever, if not through diamonds, then through wool. Black and white and red at the collar, like the Norwegian national garment.
Now, some would say, what’s with the fuss? Or the snobbism? And who the hell is going to see all this in the middle of nowhere? For once, the fuss is all about quality – and I’m no even that original there. The Scots formulated it already. “I’m too poor to afford cheap crap.” So quality never has anything to do with fussing. I’m still wearing my Bubetti boots, which, yes, did cost me a small fortune when I bought them, but still look rather smashing after 12 years of intense wear. So, they were worth the investment. Secondly, there’s always someone you run into: yourself. Like, when you reflect yourself into the perfectly mirroring water and realize that your Cordoba earrings make it look all the more beautiful, you feel good about yourself. You feel good about having learnt that having an acute sense of distinction makes more difference than merely claiming that you yourself, through your acts, make a difference. I believe in objects. Some objects. They keep us sane when we want to go: wow, I must have been Norwegian in another life time, or at least half Norwegian! On the other hand, as the mountain sent back crystal vibrations through my ears today, I also thought that being half crazy, instead of half of the other thing, is all right. Good style perspires, and has transcending power. The Norwegians, who are mainly a bunch of peasants and for the most part can’t tell the difference between silk and polyester, when they see you strutting your designer stuff, think twice before passing judgement on you as soon as they hear that you come from Romania, originally. They don’t see so quickly a country full of poverty and orphaned children anymore. They see an individual rich bitch, whom they are more than willing to serve. “Follow the money” works every time, even out in the wilderness. Thus, we connect, with whatever, if not through diamonds, then through wool. Black and white and red at the collar, like the Norwegian national garment.
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