I only get two channels here, and one is entirely in Swedish, but I don’t even care because it’s worth it each and every time this commercial comes on…which is about every 11 minutes. I don’t know what they’re saying, or what they’re selling, but I want it.
Archives for the day of: 2010/09/11
Some people are just born creative: designers, painters, photographers, illustrators, each inherently understanding – from their very first breath – good design, composition, aesthetics and what makes a work of art work. Other people are born me. I studied art history because those who can’t do, teach, and those who can’t teach, spend a shitload of money taking artistic appreciation courses at an expensive private university. So I request that you – all four of you who read this blog, and all four of you being the annoying creative types I’m talking about – please not mock the following collage I just pieced together. It took me like a month to make this so just back off.
Behold, Stockholm: Week One…
On Thursday night, I hobbled along three miles of cobblestone and cement in these…
That’s probably worth its own blog entry, but this post is actually about why I subjected myself to tiny suede stilts and imminent shin splints: I went to the Kungliga Opera, and you just don’t do that sort of bourgie thing looking like an American schlub in UGG boots.
For some, the destination sounds way more punishing than the shoes, but I actually love the opera – and this was a particular treat because it was my favorite one, Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. Or in Swedish, Figaros Bröllop. I took my seat on the left balcony, stealthily slipped off my ankle boots to give my throbbing toes a break (whatever, no one saw, except for maybe the people next to me, and possibly that lady in the next row who scowled at me, and the old man in front of me who turned around) and I waited for the familiar overture.
The Swedish title on my ticket stub really should have been my first clue, but it wasn’t until Susanna and Figaro sang their first few bars that I realized, stupidly, this little Italian opera would be captioned in Swedish. For all four acts. For three hours.
So, that made for a long evening. But I still had such a blast that I stopped by the box office again this morning and bought tickets to see Rigoletto and the Rites of Spring next week. And now I have renewed purpose for this weekend, because what kind of uncivilized westerner would repeat the same footwear at back-to-back shows? I have standards. And a credit card, unfortunately.
reagan johnson 