(And I'm not talking about John)
Showing posts with label men in suits and dresses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men in suits and dresses. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
On wanting badly to smack a deserving soul in the face but realizing it would not serve the intended purpose (but nevertheless feel good)
Certain people make me turn into this guy:
(And I'm not talking about John)
(And I'm not talking about John)
Friday, August 17, 2012
On socwardness (part two)
Man, on the ground, below my office. Walking, slowly, towards one of the tables touched by the almost-sun of the early Norwegian autumn. He is carrying lunch, balancing a fork. Passing a couple of attractive, chatty young ladies. One of the girls laugh - not at him - enough to make his fine-tuned balancing act fall apart. The sound of a fork hitting the ground.
I can see his shoulders heave as he sighs.
Then he bends over - carefully considering the angle so that he will not have to reveal his bu... the crevice between his buttocks.. to the young ladies (not realizing that this instead reveals it to an entire building of lazy academics looking out of their office windows).
He picks up the fork and sighs again.
He wipes the fork off on his trousers, but it is evident that he cannot eat with it now that the young ladies have seen it touching the ground. (The three-second rule only applies when there are no potential hook-ups present.)
The man stumbles back the way he came from, wanting to throw a humorous comment in the young ladies' way as he passes, but feeling too self-conscious to do so. Instead he walks 50 meters or so, until he is out of sight for the people occupying the seating area. He is still unknowingly very visible to the academics in their stuffed offices.
He stands under a tree for the appropriate amount of time spent walking back inside to fetch a new fork. Then he returns to the table he first sought out.
When passing the young ladies he smiles at them, and one of them returns the smile with a promise of sorts.
There is hope, even for the lazy and socially awkward ones.
I can see his shoulders heave as he sighs.
Then he bends over - carefully considering the angle so that he will not have to reveal his bu... the crevice between his buttocks.. to the young ladies (not realizing that this instead reveals it to an entire building of lazy academics looking out of their office windows).
He picks up the fork and sighs again.
He wipes the fork off on his trousers, but it is evident that he cannot eat with it now that the young ladies have seen it touching the ground. (The three-second rule only applies when there are no potential hook-ups present.)
The man stumbles back the way he came from, wanting to throw a humorous comment in the young ladies' way as he passes, but feeling too self-conscious to do so. Instead he walks 50 meters or so, until he is out of sight for the people occupying the seating area. He is still unknowingly very visible to the academics in their stuffed offices.
He stands under a tree for the appropriate amount of time spent walking back inside to fetch a new fork. Then he returns to the table he first sought out.
When passing the young ladies he smiles at them, and one of them returns the smile with a promise of sorts.
There is hope, even for the lazy and socially awkward ones.
Monday, May 21, 2012
On clothophilia
A little over a year ago, I fancily wrote on this blog that I had a bit of an April resolution: I would not buy any clothes for the duration of the next twelve months. Twelve months later, it would have been natural for me to look back and evaluate the experience, but I hesitated in doing so. The reason? I failed. In fact, I failed so thoroughly that it is questionable whether one can say I even tried.
Making a goal like that in April last year was an easy thing to do. Follow up on it needen't have been so difficult, but for several reasons it was. The most important being the one I stated already in the original resolution post: I might forget about the whole thing. Which is true - I did forget, and the few occasions I've remembered afterwards have never been when I was about to swipe my card at a clothes shop.
In addition, though, a lot of things happened after I wrote that post. First of all, my return to Japan. The idea of limiting my clothes purchases in a situation like I was in while still in Norway - no direction in life, no plans, and no idea what the future might bring as the 3/11 earthquake had effectively shifted everything around for me - was simple enough; possibly this might even be a direction or a goal that could bring back some sense in what I at the moment felt was more existence than life.
Not long after this, though, I did go back to Tokyo. And I found that other things (readjusting to my life in Japan, making new friends, coping with continued aftershocks and the ongoing nuclear scare, workworkWORK) became a lot more consuming than a feeble attempt at limiting my own shopping spree. Furthermore, limiting my clothes purchases while still in Japan made very little sense as I practically didn't buy anything there at all. Being a tall and large Western woman effectively made it unrealistic to find much in terms of clothes and shoes in Tokyo. When I did find certain items that fit, however, a (forgotten) vow from a (seemingly) distant past wasn't going to keep me from finally buying something. Similarly, I went on a real shopping spree the second I got back on European soil - on my layover at the airport in Copenhagen, actually - out of pure joy that I finally could find clothes that fit me again. The thought that finding that sort of joy in material things was perhaps not entirely healthy was not at all on my mind.
In addition to my mind being occupied elsewhere being part of the problem, my body was also contributing to my shopping mania. Call it a welcome side effect of the stress the past year offered, call it a result of life style changes, believe that I am lying when I say I haven't been doing that much for this - I've lost a considerable amount of weight since I made my resolution last year. This naturally affects how my old clothes fit (or rather, they don't). Speaking loudest, perhaps, was the fact that when I tried on my bunad (national costume - sewn to me at the age of fourteen, expected to fit for life), last worn two years ago on the Constitutional Day and then barely - it was so tight I had trouble breathing - I was swimming in fabric. It has never been this big on me, not even when it was made (again, at fourteen. I'm thinner now than I was at fourteen).
Obviously these changes in my body required changes in my wardrobe. And I found, to my great excitement, that the range of clothes I now could buy was much, much larger than it had been before. It's been years since I realized that baggy sweaters wasn't the way to go to hide a "voluptuous" body, but still - the clothes I can wear now (and feel comfortable in) are very different from what I felt the need to capture my body in just a year ago. Also, as more sizes fit I have the luxury of shopping in a wider variety of shops. Add to this, I've also discovered a latent interest in fashion an style, fueled by reading more fashion magazines, and the luring claws of my Pinterest "closet".
The result has been that my year of no shopping has turned into the year of more shopping than ever before. And I love it. The rush I get from trying on new outfits, finding that they fit and look good on me, is magnificent. Buying new clothes has become my new "comfort food".
Why, then, if this is such a rush, do I still toy with the idea of cutting my habit? (This being a clever word play for those of you who speak French. 'ee 'ee...)
Well, even if it might be healthier to overspend than overeat, it's still not good for me (or my wallet). I'm letting consumerism consume me. Also, there are major environmental issues at play - the environmental cost of the entire production chain from materials, through transportation and vending are considerable and worrisome. I don't have any numbers, but I suspect that by calculating the carbon print of each of my new outfits would I'd see a bleak pattern. My shopping isn't just hurting me; it's hurting the planet.
Knowing all this, however, has never hindered me before, and, frankly - even if I wish I was more environmentally conscious, I'm not. I can strive towards becoming so, but I'm never going to be one of those "move to the wilderness and live off the fat of the land"-types. I can, however, improve.
Because I've arrived back at what caused me to make the radical non-decision one year ago: I already own too much stuff. A few weeks ago I went "shopping" in my own closet at my parents' house, finding old things that either haven't fit in a while, or that was out of fashion, or maybe they just didn't suit my fancy. Trying to think creatively, however, I find that much of what I already own are completely wearable, nice, even chic stuff. Sometimes a jacket can have a whole new life with nothing else done than adding a belt. No need to go shopping when I have these kind of resources at hand!
A new resolution is coming, but this time it isn't avoiding clothes purchases altogether. Rather, I mean to keep doing that, but with an added awareness. First of all, I could definitely improve on what I buy. Ideally, the best for the environment might be not shopping at all, but by focusing on proper materials (eco cotton, anyone?) and quality products I reduce the amount of new stuff I need to buy, and I help support a more aware part of the industry.
Secondly, I could and should reduce what I already own and get rid of stuff I no longer wear. This doesn't have to mean throwing things in the bin - there is a thrift store right across the street from me, and if the items are still wearable (but for someone else than myself), I have no excuse not to give it away (as reuse is also environmentally friendly). Once an item is not wearable anymore, though, for me or anyone else, I should really throw it out. This may not be so environmentally friendly, but it will be friendly to my environment. Having a stuffed closet where you only ever wear half the things makes it cluttered and difficult to handle. I have items in my closet that's probably not been worn in fifteen years. These are typically things I should get rid off once and for all.
Finally, I clearly need to work on my own mind in all of this. Making sure I always have with me that little voice asking "do you need this? When would you wear this? Don't you already own 5 polka-dot dresses?" Sometimes this will mean bringing a friend along (and I know just which one - some of my friends have the shoppoholics just as bad as me...); sometimes it will mean being a little more responsible all on my own.
If you're interested in the environmental part of this post, by the way, I'd like to direct your attention to a very good friend of mine who has devoted her professional life to "conceptual ecology" and "slow fashion". She holds a degree in design, but she has put a very specific spin on this, by focusing on the awareness aspect of fashion. This means consciousness in everything from materials to working conditions (though frankly, I suspect she herself is working too much...), making sure that in every part of the production of her clothes (which are awesome, by the way, did I mention that? She already has designed several items for me, and is in the process of making a dress for a wedding I'm attenting this summer) no more pressure than absolutely necessary is put on the limited resources we have available on this planet. If that means researching what actually happens with silk worms, whether the sheep who provide wool have eaten only organic food, or where one can come by zippers that are as environmentally friendly as possible - she will do it.
You can find her, the magnificent Lisbeth, at Facebook, or her (awesome) website.
Making a goal like that in April last year was an easy thing to do. Follow up on it needen't have been so difficult, but for several reasons it was. The most important being the one I stated already in the original resolution post: I might forget about the whole thing. Which is true - I did forget, and the few occasions I've remembered afterwards have never been when I was about to swipe my card at a clothes shop.
In addition, though, a lot of things happened after I wrote that post. First of all, my return to Japan. The idea of limiting my clothes purchases in a situation like I was in while still in Norway - no direction in life, no plans, and no idea what the future might bring as the 3/11 earthquake had effectively shifted everything around for me - was simple enough; possibly this might even be a direction or a goal that could bring back some sense in what I at the moment felt was more existence than life.
Not long after this, though, I did go back to Tokyo. And I found that other things (readjusting to my life in Japan, making new friends, coping with continued aftershocks and the ongoing nuclear scare, workworkWORK) became a lot more consuming than a feeble attempt at limiting my own shopping spree. Furthermore, limiting my clothes purchases while still in Japan made very little sense as I practically didn't buy anything there at all. Being a tall and large Western woman effectively made it unrealistic to find much in terms of clothes and shoes in Tokyo. When I did find certain items that fit, however, a (forgotten) vow from a (seemingly) distant past wasn't going to keep me from finally buying something. Similarly, I went on a real shopping spree the second I got back on European soil - on my layover at the airport in Copenhagen, actually - out of pure joy that I finally could find clothes that fit me again. The thought that finding that sort of joy in material things was perhaps not entirely healthy was not at all on my mind.
In addition to my mind being occupied elsewhere being part of the problem, my body was also contributing to my shopping mania. Call it a welcome side effect of the stress the past year offered, call it a result of life style changes, believe that I am lying when I say I haven't been doing that much for this - I've lost a considerable amount of weight since I made my resolution last year. This naturally affects how my old clothes fit (or rather, they don't). Speaking loudest, perhaps, was the fact that when I tried on my bunad (national costume - sewn to me at the age of fourteen, expected to fit for life), last worn two years ago on the Constitutional Day and then barely - it was so tight I had trouble breathing - I was swimming in fabric. It has never been this big on me, not even when it was made (again, at fourteen. I'm thinner now than I was at fourteen).
Obviously these changes in my body required changes in my wardrobe. And I found, to my great excitement, that the range of clothes I now could buy was much, much larger than it had been before. It's been years since I realized that baggy sweaters wasn't the way to go to hide a "voluptuous" body, but still - the clothes I can wear now (and feel comfortable in) are very different from what I felt the need to capture my body in just a year ago. Also, as more sizes fit I have the luxury of shopping in a wider variety of shops. Add to this, I've also discovered a latent interest in fashion an style, fueled by reading more fashion magazines, and the luring claws of my Pinterest "closet".
The result has been that my year of no shopping has turned into the year of more shopping than ever before. And I love it. The rush I get from trying on new outfits, finding that they fit and look good on me, is magnificent. Buying new clothes has become my new "comfort food".
Why, then, if this is such a rush, do I still toy with the idea of cutting my habit? (This being a clever word play for those of you who speak French. 'ee 'ee...)
Well, even if it might be healthier to overspend than overeat, it's still not good for me (or my wallet). I'm letting consumerism consume me. Also, there are major environmental issues at play - the environmental cost of the entire production chain from materials, through transportation and vending are considerable and worrisome. I don't have any numbers, but I suspect that by calculating the carbon print of each of my new outfits would I'd see a bleak pattern. My shopping isn't just hurting me; it's hurting the planet.
Knowing all this, however, has never hindered me before, and, frankly - even if I wish I was more environmentally conscious, I'm not. I can strive towards becoming so, but I'm never going to be one of those "move to the wilderness and live off the fat of the land"-types. I can, however, improve.
Because I've arrived back at what caused me to make the radical non-decision one year ago: I already own too much stuff. A few weeks ago I went "shopping" in my own closet at my parents' house, finding old things that either haven't fit in a while, or that was out of fashion, or maybe they just didn't suit my fancy. Trying to think creatively, however, I find that much of what I already own are completely wearable, nice, even chic stuff. Sometimes a jacket can have a whole new life with nothing else done than adding a belt. No need to go shopping when I have these kind of resources at hand!
A new resolution is coming, but this time it isn't avoiding clothes purchases altogether. Rather, I mean to keep doing that, but with an added awareness. First of all, I could definitely improve on what I buy. Ideally, the best for the environment might be not shopping at all, but by focusing on proper materials (eco cotton, anyone?) and quality products I reduce the amount of new stuff I need to buy, and I help support a more aware part of the industry.
Secondly, I could and should reduce what I already own and get rid of stuff I no longer wear. This doesn't have to mean throwing things in the bin - there is a thrift store right across the street from me, and if the items are still wearable (but for someone else than myself), I have no excuse not to give it away (as reuse is also environmentally friendly). Once an item is not wearable anymore, though, for me or anyone else, I should really throw it out. This may not be so environmentally friendly, but it will be friendly to my environment. Having a stuffed closet where you only ever wear half the things makes it cluttered and difficult to handle. I have items in my closet that's probably not been worn in fifteen years. These are typically things I should get rid off once and for all.
Finally, I clearly need to work on my own mind in all of this. Making sure I always have with me that little voice asking "do you need this? When would you wear this? Don't you already own 5 polka-dot dresses?" Sometimes this will mean bringing a friend along (and I know just which one - some of my friends have the shoppoholics just as bad as me...); sometimes it will mean being a little more responsible all on my own.
If you're interested in the environmental part of this post, by the way, I'd like to direct your attention to a very good friend of mine who has devoted her professional life to "conceptual ecology" and "slow fashion". She holds a degree in design, but she has put a very specific spin on this, by focusing on the awareness aspect of fashion. This means consciousness in everything from materials to working conditions (though frankly, I suspect she herself is working too much...), making sure that in every part of the production of her clothes (which are awesome, by the way, did I mention that? She already has designed several items for me, and is in the process of making a dress for a wedding I'm attenting this summer) no more pressure than absolutely necessary is put on the limited resources we have available on this planet. If that means researching what actually happens with silk worms, whether the sheep who provide wool have eaten only organic food, or where one can come by zippers that are as environmentally friendly as possible - she will do it.
You can find her, the magnificent Lisbeth, at Facebook, or her (awesome) website.
Monday, May 7, 2012
On embracing chaos
It's my new motto. Embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto: Embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto; embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto — embrace the chaos.
I couldn't decide which punctuation worked better, so I chose them all
(It's my new motto.:;— E[e]mbrace the chaos.)
Most people use punctuation to avoid chaos. I'm not most people. Besides,
besides
besides, punctuation is chaos. To me.
It's my new motto: Embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto; embrace the chaos.
It's my new motto — embrace the chaos.
I couldn't decide which punctuation worked better, so I chose them all
(It's my new motto.:;— E[e]mbrace the chaos.)
Most people use punctuation to avoid chaos. I'm not most people. Besides,
besides
besides, punctuation is chaos. To me.
So I'm embracing it.
Chaos is everywhere. Chaos is everything. Chaos is a movie starring Ryan Philippe, Jason Statham and Wesley Snipes. Chaos is "a state of utter confusion or disorder; a total lack of organization or order." Chaos is (religion) a chasms or abyss; it is (science) any state of confusion or disorder, plus a branch of mathematics and physics; it is (in the Discordian calendar) a month. Chaos is punctuation. Chaos is being punctured by chaos.
My head is chaos.
Chaos = my head = chaos.
Stop thinking so much, they say. I have no means to do so. Besides,
besides,
Chaos = my head - thinking = chaos.
(This is a very specialized version of chaos theory. A branch of mathematics and physics.)
I cannot stop thinking. I cannot even stop thinking so much. Define "so much". Definitions are meant to make things less chaotic. But then there are so many of them. =chaos.
My only remaining solution.
Embrace.
Embracing the chaos.
Letting it surround me.
Inviting more of it in.
Maybe I'll explode.
Or implode.
Either way explained by a complex branch of mathematics and physics, I'm sure.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
On frogs and smartphones and tomato soup and automatic cameras
I'm confused. Why can't you just come out and SAY IT? Whatever it is??
Frogs are cute. Not real frogs. They are - slimy. Or at the very least they look like they are slimy. I'd put that "they look slimy", but that isn't accurate, because that implies that I can actually see some slime. Which I can't. I'm simply assuming it. Not that I've seen that many frogs. And of the ones I've seen, many of them have been so small that their possible sliminess is difficult to determine without touching them. I'm NOT doing that. Eugh. What if they ARE slimy, eh? So yeahno. No touching. No kissing. Kissing a frog - I don't know if the prospect of finding a prince at the other end of the kiss would be enough to initiate one, really. Especially if there is slime involved.
Besides. Princes. Bah. Unless they are able to say things as they are, I'm not that interested.
Smartphones are not very smart. They are tricksy, perhaps. Tricking us into being far more mobile and online and available than we actually want. They make all sorts of information available at the touch of a finger tip. But that's not smart. It's convenient. It's fast. It's fun - at least for a while. But it's not smart. Smart - smart is the invention of the wheel. Or a spork (the spoon-fork hybrid, and not the lesser known water-pig. Long story). Or cleaning windows with vinegar. Now that is smart. A phone that has no keyboard and whose fancy thingamabobs are so time-consuming you don't have any time left in your day to actually do cool stuff? Not smart.
Besides. Phones. And people who use them. Or don't use them. Bah.
Tomato soup is really neat, y'all. It's made of tomatoes. And it's a soup. You can totally eat it. You can totally make it, even. If you use canned and crushed and skinned tomatoes, a grated carrot, some garlic and olive oil, and then a touch of salt and pepper (plus whatever herbs you fancy), it's even quite healthy - as you have complete control of what you put in your mouth. Not a bad idea.
Also not a bad idea - to have control over what you let out of your mouth. Like clear-cut, non-confusing messages. That would be as awesome as automatic cameras.
"Smile!" FLASH!
And yet they somehow always manage to catch you with you eyes closed, or just as you were about to say something, leaving your face all distorted and funny and not in a good way. They leave your face looking as though you were waiting for someone to say something, but then they didn't, and thus it was left hanging in the air, making you both feel a little awkward. And then you end up wondering what in the world they want from you, and then they stick the picture in your passport and there you are. Every single time you enter a new country, you have to look a mixture of confused, annoyed and heartbroken for them to believe it's you.
So maybe, just maybe, you can just say it as it is, instead of talking about frogs or smartphones or tomato soup or automatic cameras, yes? No?
Frogs are cute. Not real frogs. They are - slimy. Or at the very least they look like they are slimy. I'd put that "they look slimy", but that isn't accurate, because that implies that I can actually see some slime. Which I can't. I'm simply assuming it. Not that I've seen that many frogs. And of the ones I've seen, many of them have been so small that their possible sliminess is difficult to determine without touching them. I'm NOT doing that. Eugh. What if they ARE slimy, eh? So yeahno. No touching. No kissing. Kissing a frog - I don't know if the prospect of finding a prince at the other end of the kiss would be enough to initiate one, really. Especially if there is slime involved.
Besides. Princes. Bah. Unless they are able to say things as they are, I'm not that interested.
Smartphones are not very smart. They are tricksy, perhaps. Tricking us into being far more mobile and online and available than we actually want. They make all sorts of information available at the touch of a finger tip. But that's not smart. It's convenient. It's fast. It's fun - at least for a while. But it's not smart. Smart - smart is the invention of the wheel. Or a spork (the spoon-fork hybrid, and not the lesser known water-pig. Long story). Or cleaning windows with vinegar. Now that is smart. A phone that has no keyboard and whose fancy thingamabobs are so time-consuming you don't have any time left in your day to actually do cool stuff? Not smart.
Besides. Phones. And people who use them. Or don't use them. Bah.
Tomato soup is really neat, y'all. It's made of tomatoes. And it's a soup. You can totally eat it. You can totally make it, even. If you use canned and crushed and skinned tomatoes, a grated carrot, some garlic and olive oil, and then a touch of salt and pepper (plus whatever herbs you fancy), it's even quite healthy - as you have complete control of what you put in your mouth. Not a bad idea.
Also not a bad idea - to have control over what you let out of your mouth. Like clear-cut, non-confusing messages. That would be as awesome as automatic cameras.
"Smile!" FLASH!
And yet they somehow always manage to catch you with you eyes closed, or just as you were about to say something, leaving your face all distorted and funny and not in a good way. They leave your face looking as though you were waiting for someone to say something, but then they didn't, and thus it was left hanging in the air, making you both feel a little awkward. And then you end up wondering what in the world they want from you, and then they stick the picture in your passport and there you are. Every single time you enter a new country, you have to look a mixture of confused, annoyed and heartbroken for them to believe it's you.
So maybe, just maybe, you can just say it as it is, instead of talking about frogs or smartphones or tomato soup or automatic cameras, yes? No?
Thursday, October 13, 2011
On fashionable affairs
Last week the Norwegian government presented the National Budget for 2012 (that's right - we don't believe in Mayan predictions here). It wasn't exactly a thriller - a budget presented by a majority government that has been sitting for six years, in a country where the economy is reasonably healthy and stable, the unemployment is low, while the rest of the world seems headed into a new financial crisis. Hardly the time to make dramatic changes. No one were overly excited.
That being said, it's still our National Budget, and regardless of how small the changes may be, there are some changes, and they will impact our daily lives. Thus, I found it slightly disturbing that what the media seemed to focus on was not the numbers in the budget, but rather, this man:
This is Mr. Sigbjørn Johnsen, our Minister of Finance. An esteemed politician, long-term member of Parliament, several-time Minister, former County Governor of Hedmark, the list goes on. He is famous in Norway for having such a jovial dialect and charisma that even when he says scary stuff like "the world economy is going to crash" or "we don't have any more money", it sounds okay. Nice, even.
He's an important guy, and definitely worth the attention of the media on the day of the National Budget presentations. That is hardly what bothered me. What made me question the priorities of our media was what they focused on about this guy. His outfit.
Take another look at that picture. The man wears a hat, and a long coat. "Norway's Don Draper!" the headlines read. Uhm, right. Look, I like the guy, I really do. But Sigbjørn is no Don Draper.
Later the same day, another newspaper - in the economy section no less - reported that not only was Mr. Johnsen the king of hats, he also knew how to ensure variety in his ties!
By changing ties throughout the day, he managed to look serious for the speeches, but quirky and fun for the interviews. What he actually said in these speeches or interviews, didn't seem to matter all that much for the newspaper.
I considered writing angry letters to the papers in question, or at the very least post a semi-annoyed Facebook status about it, but then I realized something. While these papers were clearly reporting about something far less significant than the National Budget they should be concerned about, they were also doing something not-so-insignificant: they were commenting on a man's fashion choices.
Female politicians are constantly badgered for what they are wearing, and why. They have to suffer through "the fashion police" commenting on their outfits in glossy magazines. If they wear the same dress twice, you can be certain the media will notice, and report. While we might not like that either, we don't think much of it. Because they are women, we accept it. Now that it was a man, I reacted.
So, instead of being annoyed, I decided that it was about time the media started caring what men wear. I'll be the first to applaud when they also start asking the Prime Minister where he bought his suit, or why the Foreign Minister is wearing the same tie two events in a row.
That being said, it's still our National Budget, and regardless of how small the changes may be, there are some changes, and they will impact our daily lives. Thus, I found it slightly disturbing that what the media seemed to focus on was not the numbers in the budget, but rather, this man:
 |
| Actually, this pic is from last year. He wore a hat this year too, though |
He's an important guy, and definitely worth the attention of the media on the day of the National Budget presentations. That is hardly what bothered me. What made me question the priorities of our media was what they focused on about this guy. His outfit.
Take another look at that picture. The man wears a hat, and a long coat. "Norway's Don Draper!" the headlines read. Uhm, right. Look, I like the guy, I really do. But Sigbjørn is no Don Draper.
Later the same day, another newspaper - in the economy section no less - reported that not only was Mr. Johnsen the king of hats, he also knew how to ensure variety in his ties!
By changing ties throughout the day, he managed to look serious for the speeches, but quirky and fun for the interviews. What he actually said in these speeches or interviews, didn't seem to matter all that much for the newspaper.
I considered writing angry letters to the papers in question, or at the very least post a semi-annoyed Facebook status about it, but then I realized something. While these papers were clearly reporting about something far less significant than the National Budget they should be concerned about, they were also doing something not-so-insignificant: they were commenting on a man's fashion choices.
Female politicians are constantly badgered for what they are wearing, and why. They have to suffer through "the fashion police" commenting on their outfits in glossy magazines. If they wear the same dress twice, you can be certain the media will notice, and report. While we might not like that either, we don't think much of it. Because they are women, we accept it. Now that it was a man, I reacted.
So, instead of being annoyed, I decided that it was about time the media started caring what men wear. I'll be the first to applaud when they also start asking the Prime Minister where he bought his suit, or why the Foreign Minister is wearing the same tie two events in a row.
Monday, August 29, 2011
(On) an excuse for a post...
Why girls shouldn't be disappointed if they can't find a Disney prince...
![]()
I know, sorry excuse for a post (I didn't even make this - I merely found it, through Pinterest, of course), but I did write another post today. Still a bit of an excuse, actually, but at least that one has actual words... Wanna read these words? Go check them out, here.
I know, sorry excuse for a post (I didn't even make this - I merely found it, through Pinterest, of course), but I did write another post today. Still a bit of an excuse, actually, but at least that one has actual words... Wanna read these words? Go check them out, here.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
On X
And just like that, Jack was her ex.
Okay, so this is a sorry-ass eXcuse for a post. Xorry. The thing is I'm not used to the letter X. Look it up in the Norwegian dictionary. You might miss it. It will probably have two entries - xylophone and then one I can't remember. Maybe xenophobia.
Also, I'm not in a bloggy mood. Usually, towards the end of month-long challenges I feel good about myself for having completed them. This time, I'm not so sure. I have not been very good with the community aspect of it all. I don't know how many blogs I've visited (old and new), but it sure hasn't been anywhere near the amount one probably should try to visit when participating in a challenge with 1200+ participants.
So what. I said at the beginning that I was doing it for persistence, not community. I haven't expected to gain hugely in followers or following, and I haven't. I appreciate the new blogs I've found as a result of the A-Z, but I don't feel terribly bad about those I didn't get a chance to visit. The problem, however, is that my initial goal also failed. Yes, I have put up a post (of sorts) every day (except Sundays) since the start of April. I managed to finish the challenge. But it hasn't inspired me to continue in the same fashion.
Frankly, I am wondering if I am stretching my ability and interest with my attempts of blogging daily. I am actually growing weary of my own style. I am a little tired of listening to my own voice. If this was a blog I was visiting, I'd take a break from it right about now.
There might be a break starting where April and A-Z ends. The reasons for this are not those described above, but rather my upcoming return to Tokyo. Yes. I'm going back. I guess writing it here makes it official (though Facebook already knows). I have set my mind to make it a good remainder of my stay. The earthquakes might interfere with how much I enjoy it, but I am determined to try to ignore that. I am queasy about going back, but also relieved to have made the decision.
Maybe being tired of myself and my own voice will change when I return to a place and a life which will give me something to write about? I assume so. Thus this is a notification of a possible short break. After Y and Z, don't expect to see me for maybe a week. Then I'll be craving to tell you ALL about my veryvery exciting (and possibly earthquakey) life back in Tokyo...
X marks the spot...
(And no, I haven't broken up with my boyfriend, Jack. I don't even have a boyfriend named Jack. I merely unplugged the headphones from my computer and saw a story in there, somewhere...)
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
On pictures and words
If 1 picture > 1000 words, could you watch 473 pictures and say you've read The Lord of the Rings?
Could you take 50 snapshots, and claim to have "won" NaNoWriMo?
Could you query an agent, pretending that you only took 80 pictures, while you actually sneaked (sorry, Tami, snuck) an additional 12 into the album?
I think not. Though sometimes a picture is worth quite a lot of words. Like this one:
By my count, it is worth 179 words.
You'll have to swing by Burrowers, Books & (today more than ever) Balderdash to find out which words.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
