Genius is of small use to a woman who does not know how to do her hair.

I think it would be fun, especially for my own archival cravings, to recount my favourite escapist things of 2011. I might only leave it at books and music, because I’m finding it hard to remember anything else but that. However, if you are left wondering of anything random that enchanted me this past year please ask away! Let’s also share some things you loved.

Anyway, I really want to talk about books! I hardly read anything new because I am too out of touch of this world so I discovered a couple of beautiful old books this year.

My number one literary crush this year was no one other than Edith Wharton. I started with some ghost stories of her (ghost dogs!) because I felt a craving for them but soon moved on to The Descent of Man, and Other Stories (available at gutenberg, of course) and fell in love with her sharp wit and poignant writing. So naturally one of my main goals in life is now to read all Edith Wharton has ever written. I started with The House of Mirth next, which starred Lily Bart as a terribly flawed heroin; she doesn’t know what she wants, she is extrutiatingly indecisive and spoiled. Naturally this leads her to a gloriously written downfall. I have a weakness for books with flawed characters and a sad ending so this was perfect in my eyes. Wharton’s commentary and writing wasn’t as sharp as in her short stories but this was an amazing read regardless. Next up is The Age of Innocence!

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wildplanten

I really don’t have much to say in between the holidays and the studying and general all-around bad mood due to weather and inescapable annoying spirit of cheerful festivities. But I had to update because exactly due to being in a pissy mood I went out and bought several new pieces of clothing that I should probably feel guilty about buying, except for the fact that every single one of them was worth its price especially considering all my money went to charity and also to a somewhat elevated mood (I know I know). Anyway DIRNDL #7 of my now continually growing dirndl collection!

Shoes: some place in Switzerland, coat: Killah, tights: forgot, everything else: second hand.

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18 carat love affair

I should’ve included this in my last post but I really feel like this coat needs its own post. It is glorious. Foxes were probably intentionally killed long before I was even born for it, but regardless of fox love and sequential sartorial pain, I feel so indescribably comfortable in it. And I feel strangely protected and soothed, too. Like when I went out to the supermarket to feed and comfort some of my friends, I know that if I would’ve worn this, I would’ve known to stop flailing around indecisively and go right ahead to the section were the paper umbrellas are, and that the yellow of a packet of 1,05 euro nuts wouldn’t have seemed unbearably sad. And whenever I’m walking down the street and having to face countless commentary of men comparing me to animals when wearing this coat I like to imagine that the thick fabric of it is commentary proof and ricochets right back at them and will make the men feel secretly sad for pestering women on the street and one day they’ll look in the mirror and think of their animal-women analogies and think ‘What have I become?’ and they will see that they are the defenceless animals of society, even if Darwin said we are somehow more depraved.