Dagmar: My favourite Swedish Fashion Label

I found Dagmar last year when I saw this skirt on the naughty-but-nice Net-a-Porter site. Its green camouflage pattern is really flattering, and the zips on the side make it a little more fun than a normal pencil skirt would be. It's also very stretchy, so even on 'fat days' I can fit into it. I've worn the skirt so many times now that I think a lot of people think its sewn onto to me; still it doesn't show any signs of wear and tear. Plus it can just be shucked into the washing machine time and time again.

Here I am wearing my Dagmar skirt, posing with the Moomin troll.

This is why I like a lot of Swedish brands; even H&M - which after all is a value fashion brand - makes items that last a lot longer than their British or Spanish counterparts. I''m not naming any names, but you know that irritation when  a t-shirt turns bobbly or stretched after just one wear and wash. Or when the label tells you that a simple skirt of shirt needs dry cleaning - or worse still - the label says 'Do not wash'. What is that all about?

Swedish House of  Dagmar is a quirky label, designed by three Swedish sisters. Tall, blonde and beautiful, I'd have to hate them, would they not produce such fun an wearable clothes.

The three beautiful and talented sisters
 behind the Dagmar label

One of their most important fans is the Swedish Crown Princess Victoria, so once again I'm wearing clothes favoured by Royalty. I must be getting old.

Princess Victoria wearing a Dagmar dress.

What are your characters wearing?

A few years ago, during a critique session on my MA in Creative Writing course, a fellow student pointed out that I often described what my characters were wearing in some considerable detail. This wasn't a criticism as such, she said, but just something she'd noticed. (We’d had a lot of lessons together as this point) Her own short stories were a completely different style to mine - much more abstract - and she said reading my work made her go back and check that her characters were in fact wearing clothes. That she wasn't inadvertently writing stories with naked people in them.

I was thinking back to this conversation while (trying to) write the sequel to The Englishman, but being constantly distracted by email offers from various online fashion stores. Because, as you may have noticed by now, I am a bit of a fashion addict. Not that I pretend to know anything about fashion, but I love looking at designer clothes.

But I digress. What I wanted to know is, is it important to describe what the characters in a book are wearing?

Obviously, I think so.

What she or he wears says so much about a person, doesn’t it? I don’t wish to put my characters into in neat little boxes according to their clothes (a caricature is a dirty word in writing circles), but I think it’s fun to describe the nuances of a character by their outfits.

In The Englishman, for instance, I needed Kaisa to immediately fall head over heels in love with Peter, so I gave him a sexy uniform to wear when they first meet. (OK, this part of the book was based on actual events, so I didn’t make it up, but you see what I mean?).

In Coffee and Vodka, I described the different characters of the two sisters, Anja and Eeva, in the way they carried their clothes.  Anja is a much more flamboyant and confident girl, while Eeva is a bit of a dreamer and less sure of herself. When the two girls were dressed by their mother in identical stripy Marimekko t-shirts and white trousers, for their ferry journey across to Sweden, Anja’s outfit made her look like a young Brigitte Bardot, while Eeva felt her clothes were too big for her, and shapeless.

In The Red King of Helsinki, Iain, the English naval officer turned spy, struggles to wear clothes warm enough for the harsh Finnish winter, while my seventeen-year-old sleuth, Pia, is highly fashion conscious. Pia’s clothing oozes confidence while Peter’s lack of weather awareness shows a worrying level of incompetence.

Of course clothes and the fashions of the time serve well in reminding the reader of the period the book is set in.  Because the story in Coffee and Vodka straddles two eras, it was important for me to dress Eeva appropriately when we meet her as a grown-up (professional, compassionate teacher of Swedish). Later I also use her clothes to show how her attitude to herself and to the people around her change. I won’t reveal any more of the plot, because I don’t want to spoil the ending, but if you’ve read the book, I’m sure you’ll see what I mean.

So, while I’m just nipping over to Net-a-Porter to check out today’s new arrivals, instead of writing, I’ll be secure in the knowledge that this is just research, and not at all a pleasure...

What do you think? Is it important to know what the characters in a  book are wearing?

What kind of character
would wear this Miu Miu spotted coat?
Image: www.netaporter.com

Holiday packing: capsule wardrobe time

I'm hopeless at packing for a holiday. First of all I can't do it much ahead of time because the weather where we usually go (Åland Islands in Finland) is always unpredictable, and I have to wait until I have a proper reliable forecast. At least that's what I tell myself, because the real and embarrassing reason is that I can't pack until I feel in the right state of mind to do it.

'You can't base every decision on your emotions,' some wise (or not so wise) friend once told me.

Since we are leaving for our midsummer holiday in two days' time I thougth I'd start the packing with getting a few things in the Net-a-Porter sale. (Where else should one start?). But, I've just been on the phone to them and they say despatch can take up to 72 hours, so I may not get the few crucial items (Marc by Marc Jacobs handbag, Mulberry scarf and Alice by Temperley twill cotton jacket) before we go.

Panic.

Hence, this morning, though I don't feel like packing yet, I forced myself to start the process by laying out the pieces I know I'll want to take. If I could get together a 'capsule wardrobe', I could build on from that.

What do you think - am I on the right track?

Hobbs maxi dress, Castaner black wedges, blue DKNY wrap cardigan (which starred at yesterday's pigeon episode at England's Lane Books), Uniqlo cargo shorts, Citizens of Humanity white jeans, Current/Elliott cropped chinos, Rebecca Minkoff bag. And my Mac, obviously!

Losing it

I keep losing things.

Weekend before last we stayed with a group of friends in a most fantastic Scottish hideaway. We got really spoiled; there was a resident French chef, the highly accomplished Christian Morel (who is usually found cooking on La Seine where he runs gourmet cruises), a wonderful room with a glorious view and a balcony, fine wines and excellent company.

On Saturday we walked along the river to the little town of St Boswell's where Rosamund de la Hey runs her lovely book shop, Main Street Books, serving the most delicious cappuccinos that side of the Pennines.

I missed a magnificent fly-pass by the two swans in the picture by a whisker...

On Sunday we wandered around the ruins of a 12th century abbey, where - our host argued - the nuns had prayed so intensely, it'd left the place with a sense complete serenity. He was right, because to me at least, it felt quite unreal to walk amongst the roofless structures. The ancient trees surrounding the site were magnificent too.

All weekend we were served five star cuisine. I was so relaxed that I joked I may never leave the place - it would be a perfect writing spot. Perhaps this was why on leaving for the train on Sunday, belly full of roast pork lunch with the best crackling I've ever tasted (I don't even like cracking...) I left my newly acquired iPhone behind. 'Who forgets their iPhone?' asked  Husband at the station and felt my forehead. 'Perhaps you're coming down with something,' he laughed. 

I felt silly as this hare - but isn't he beautiful?

Luckily the lady of the house is a most organised and kind person and posted the phone to me immediately and we were re-united at the local Royal Mail collection office a day later.

The following weekend I was off on a jolly with the girls to Athens. (I posted about the trip here.) Yes, I know we are far from 'girls' at this stage of life, but as we've known each other since the school days when we were mere lasses (I really enjoyed Scotland...) we still call the meet-ups 'girls weekends'. 

The day before, as one does, I had a manicure. One mustn't be seen to be unkempt with 'old' girlfriends - they are at once one's most loyal supporters and harshest critics. For this essential bit of pre-holiday pampering I removed my rings. Could I find the damned things again the next morning before leaving for the airport? I asked the beauty salon: no, they didn't have them. Ashamed, I had to phone Husband before boarding to ask him to put the rings in a safe place if he spotted them. 'So you're off to Athens, full of Greeks, with your girlfriends and you're not wearing your wedding ring?' I laughed, surely he was joking?

Note no rings and the total absence of eager Greek suitors....

The closest I came to a handsome Greek was at the new Acropolis Museum and they we all made out of old marble. 

On arrival back to London I found my rings on the kitchen top. No-one else had spotted them during the weekend. Our new kitchen is tiny (as I may have mentioned before); how dear Husband and Son had missed them is a mystery. I was utterly relieved, however. Most of these rings have been with me for more than 25 years and included engagement, wedding and eternity rings. 

I was beginning to really worry about my state of mind when the following day I couldn't find my watch. Now this is not a small item. It was bought for me by Husband as a moving present (a lie: truth is I ordered it from Net-a-Porter and Husband agreed I shouldn't send it back - that's the same thing, right?). For a whole week I could not find the watch anywhere in our new flat. I began to wonder whether stupidly I'd left it behind in the hotel room in Athens. After all, I'd spent the whole of the weekend going back and forth to my room fetching this and that forgotten item. (It was mostly the damned iPhone) Had it not been for my dear friends, who each time we met up in the lobby, posed the question, 'Have you got everything?' I'm sure I would have walked out of the hotel without my knickers on or something equally insalubrious.

Yesterday I did find the watch - it had slipped down from the bathroom shelf onto the boxing covering the pipework and was neatly lying behind a bottle of disinfectant.

Of course there can be many reasons for my sudden inability to find things, or my great ability to hide them from myself. We've recently had quite a life-changing Big Move from the country to the city. The new flat is in a state of disarray as we still have no wardrobes or book shelves up. But the sad truth is I've always been like this. My Mother tells me stories of how as a child I often came home complaining that I'd lost my toys, bicycle, or all of the pocket money I'd been given only an hour or so earlier. More than once we found the Markka coins under a swing, or in the pocket of an overcoat that I'd been wearing. (Husband says he wishes he'd known this before he married me and that now everything makes sense....) In a way, of course, it's a relief that at least these recent events aren't signs of a deteriorating brain, though I really do not doubt that I'm losing it. I'll just have to accept the fact that I've been losing something all my life.  

Monday's wishlist

Even on holiday I had to check the new arrivals at Net-a-Porter. And look what I found. A vertable wardrobe for my return to London. Oh, how tempting....

Maison Martin Margiela Shearling-lined leather boots

Antik Batik Dream embellished blazer  

Acne stretch skinny pants

Rick Owens Lilies Angora and wool blend dress

Just as well I'm not due back home soon, otherwise it would have been very difficult not to press the 'Proceed to purchase button. 

Never go back

We've only been out of our house for a couple of days, but due to the incompetence of the removal company, we had to go and collect a few potted plants from our old house today. As our chocolate Labrador's new home is next door, we thought we'd nip in to see how he was doing.

Well, he was doing fine but I didn't take it so well. It was as if we were dropping him off all over again and I kicked myself for being so stupid as to think I could see him without getting upset. I now have an empty feeling in my gut that just won't go away. Even a fantasy shop at Net-a-Porter didn't help.

It's true when people say you should never go back.

For those of you that are interested, here's my wish list for today. All items from Net-a-Porter (because I was too knackered to look anywhere else).

Michael Kors watch

Splendid cotton shirt

Contrast one-piece JETS by Jessika Ellen

Notify Rossolis cotton-blend cargo pants

Same old, same old...

 Some of the presents for my birthday were envelopes containing hard cash. I have absolutely nothing against this,  even if it smacks of teenager presents. I love having an amount to spend just on myself, as I have a very specific style and taste, which sometimes may be difficult to understand by even those nearest and closest to me. (This time my immediate family were absolutely spot on; besides I'd never admit it even to myself if they got it wrong...)

With my specific taste comes a specific problem. I rarely see things that are just right for me. When I do find something, particularly clothing, that a) fits, b) is beautiful, c) the right fabric, d) on trend, e) not too old or too young (see the problem..?), I am very tempted to get several in different colours. Which, in my book, is the most boring thing to do.

(Husband says it's a miracle I manage to spend as much money on clothes as I do.)

Last summer in Rome I was asked by one of my friends to buy her another, identical, pair of shoes she'd bought that day. They were by Car Shoe, who make the most comfortable shoes ever, but they don't have any shops in Finland. She was leaving for Helsinki early the next day whereas I was staying on in Rome for a couple of days longer. To my shame I gave her such lecture for being boring by buying two pairs of exactly the same shoe, she gave up on the idea. A few days later, feeling very guilty, I realised I have similar tendencies.

I've written before about my jeans addiction. Over and over again, I'll buy the same make and style. I try to vary the colour, but really always veer towards a dark denim. I have two summer dresses in my wardrobe exactly the same by Nougat but in two different colours. I cannot tell you how many Agnes B black jersey no-iron dresses, skirts and trousers I own, nor how many black dresses by different designers in basically the same silk jersey design I have. Not to mention James Perse T-shirts. I think I have 4 of the same model but thankfully in different colours. Owning a number of almost identical white shirts I think I can be excused for, as well as for the number of black straight trousers hanging on the rail. These basics are for work after all.

But...recently I bought a Cozy silk and cashmere DKNY cardigan in navy. I've worn it so much that when I saw a shorter version come up on Net-a-Porter in sand, I jumped at the chance to spend some of my birthday money to buy it. It was only when the black NAP box arrived when I realised what a boring present I'd bought myself. (Though it's absolutely lovely and will go brilliantly with all of my black dresses or white shirts and jeans...)

Then, shopping in Bath, I saw the same pair of shoes from Dune that I bought for my trip to Rome last year. Thankfully, since I paid the full price, the model was never on sale. Now they've come out with a tan version. The shoes are little like gladiators, with a zip at the back and a low wedge heel. They're the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn and are perfect for a summer's day. I've also had many compliments on these shoes from my daughter's and son's friends, so I'm fairly confident they are on trend. And they're not too expensive and would go perfectly with a tan Miu Miu bag I've had for some time. (So Husband, I'd be SAVING money by reducing the need for a new handbag). But can I buy the same pair of shoes again, as well as same dresses, T-shirts etc.?

Or is is this one of the signs of being over the hill (what an absolutely AWFUL expression, apologies for using it), now I'm over a certain age (no, I can't say it out loud)?

Or does just the fact that I'm worrying about this mean I am such a spoiled B*tch that I should be put on a  diet of bread and water and no shopping for a week to realise how lucky I am that I can AFFORD to be a serial multi-buy shopper? Because I do think no shopping for a week would actually almost kill me. (OK so don't answer that question above. I know what I am... )