I can find an article of clothing in a store and fall in love with it right away. At first sight, I immediately think that this is the thing that’s been missing in my closet for all my life, and mentally put together a billion outfits with this one piece as the focus. I spend an inappropriate amount of time practically salivating over it, feeling the fabric between my fingers and finally decide to try it on. As I look in the mirror, I sigh and think: it’s perfect. Something makes me hesitate though, what if I regret it later? So I leave the store empty-handed, and spend the entire week just thinking about that one article of clothing, imagining countless other girls(or boys (?)) just buying every single one in the entire country. Then I practically run back there, throw the money on the cash register and snatch my new dress/top/pants/whatever as fast as I can. The whole night, I sit at home and have a Gollum moment, petting it while wheezing “precious” (okay not really, but you know), admiring my new whatever and just feeling general content regarding my decision. The following day, I wear it to school, and someone gives me a compliment. “Oh, what a lovely whatever you have!” And what do I respond? A meek “thanks”. WTF? Why does all the magic disappear as soon as I possess something? I mean, of course I think it’s lovely, I spent a week obsessing over it! I should answer: “I know, right?!” But I don’t even think it. It’s strange how it all changes so fast. Maybe the enchantment lays in actually wanting something you don’t have, and not the object of desire itself. Greedy human.
this commercial for Ikea’s beds (which are utter shit btw) came on the other day, and it featured this really old, Swedish song that I vaguely remembered from my childhood. I didn’t remember it being so beautiful though. It has this kind of mythical feel, set in a minor key and with pretty lyrics. Here’s a (very poor) translation of two of the verses, and the Ikea version (only the first verse is the same).
Byssan lull, boil the full pot, There comes three wanderers on the road, Byssan lull, boil the full pot, There comes three wanderers on the road. The first, oh so slickly, The second, oh so blind, The third he says nothing at all. Byssan lull, boil the full pot, The treasure chest has three figures, Byssan lull, boil the full pot, The treasure chest has three figures. The first is our faith, The second is our hope, The third is love the red one. Originally by Evert Taube.