Category: Beauty

To be clear

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life • 5 Comments

I’ve been thinking a lot about what this blog really has become lately.. The fact that I’m attempting to gather my shit together in a way that makes sense to more people than myself and a couple of others who can relate because they’re going through something similar, plus not insert commas where they’re not needed and vice versa, and actually write a book about it I’ve been sent down a road where I don’t feel the need to blog at the moment. I’m writing about stuff from the very beginning as well as present which is covering all my needs for blogging, really.. So it’s starting to feel a bit whimsical and superficial, this whole thing. But that’s ok I guess. It is what it is. And I suspect it’ll mean more to me again if I ever finish the book. If it ever makes it to the shelves is a different matter. Of lesser interest.

Anyways. Without a real need to post pictures for any other reason whatsoever than to show my face I fear this is closing dangerously in on an awkwardly backgrounded, mirror selfie-taking, not very up to par fashion-blogwise blog. And will say nothing more than that these photos are from Wednesday when the lighting was good and I was in the midst of the at times very surprisingly stressful at point of near break-down process of finding out what to wear. Hence taking pictures of my options before dining out with the other one. To be clear (I just have to say this to quiet my inner sarcastic thinks-she’s-above-it-all bitch); I have absolutely no aspiration nor desire to be anything close to an influencer/fashionblog. I know my limits. To be clear.

(I actually wore this first outfit last night. On Saturday)

Not that you should care. Just, you know.. fyi. You’re obviously in here for a reason, so I figure there’s always the possibility you actually do care. I don’t wanna know btw. To be clear. I actually prefer not to get much feedback based on looks. I either feel good or bad about myself, trust me when I say that there’s nothing anybody can say to make me feel better or worse.

Unless it’s specific. Like wondering where my top is from. It’s Karen Millen. Skirt I made myself. But you didn’t ask. But I wouldn’t be upset if you did, I love to share. I just want you to know I’m not insecure about my looks, nor am I fishing for compliments.

Wow, that was a lot. But that’s what happens when I’m not writing stuff about anything emotional.. I end up writing to you instead of myself. Which is fine. It’s just not what you’re here for. More importantly it’s not what I’m here for. And I want you to know that I know that. But wait for my book! 😀

I promise tragedy and tears and laughs and connecting. I promise.


I ended up wearing a washed out turquoise dress I haven’t worn in maybe like a year because I felt sorry for it. That’s life.. Sometimes you can’t do what you really want because you have to take care of and pay attention to something neglected. Left behind.

Enjoy your Sunday! I’m paying attention to something left behind, as well as something new.

Change.. love it or hate it.

I relish it.

Change the subject Carole

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life, The skin, Uncategorized • 3 Comments

I was recently made aware of a little hashtag going on on Instagram in norwegian from a fairly new friend of mine which translates to ‘change the subject’. And this. is. so. important. Especially at Christmas. Subject being: food, action needed being: stop. giving. it. so. much. attention.

Surely we know by now that the more food we have, the more options, the more focus and prestige there is on and in the food industry in (a lot of) the world -the less healthy we’ve gotten, right? Apart from the obvious benefits of cooking clean, sanitary-wise, we haven’t become any healthier in a really long time. I mean overall health, obviously. I’m not trying to talk you out of the religion you’ve joined, Carole, where broccoli is God and starch Satan. And I’m not stating hard facts here either. But most of us can understand when I say that the abundance of artificially produced options made to satisfy our every craving to such an extent of addiction on the same level of cocaine hasn’t made our overall health any better. For a lot of people. The more emotions we tied to food: rewards and penalties, numbing joy and shame, abundance and restriction.. the more food lost it’s true purpose. Which is to nurture and make your body strong and energized at the same time as bring you joy and satisfaction.

The norm has become so disturbed we don’t even notice it anymore. A mother not eating pancakes with her children whilst poking a grape fruit talking about how bad it would be for her body – that sends a message! That’s confusing for a child!! The excited child who’s been smelling pancakes for an hour, Oh so hungry after soccer practice, hearing that pancakes are bad for you and that mum slaved just for you without herself being able to reap the benefits of her own work.. that’s not a positive experience around what should have been a pretty fucking awesome thursday, Carole. And, hey, I’m not at all saying that you need to eat pancakes if you’re in need of a more balanced meal -make fish then! Make fish for your family, BUT BE happy about it. Talk positive about it. And then you can make pancakes on an occasion where you’re not eating with your kids. For another occasion. Maybe they have a friend over and you’re not joining the party, I don’t know. Just don’t make bad experiences. Pancakes are good. Fish is also.

Around Christmas there’s a lot of heavier dinners and puddings, candy and cookies floating around. And you don’t even have to be a restricting person to experience some indulging and a couple of pounds extra as a result. That’s okay! If you’re really scared about it, eat the fucking fish, bring your own meal, skip the pudding -whatever. People with common sense will respect that. Just don’t make a big deal out of it! Let us, the rest of us, enjoy our cookies and potential love handles.

We have to start minding our own business. I’m sure whatsherface has her reasons for skipping the macaroni and cheese bowl. Maybe she’s allergic. Maybe she’s trying a new diet -maybe she has an issue with macaroni and the very thought of it makes her sick. Let her make and have her choice. You don’t need to point it out.

Talk shit about her once she leaves.

Ok that one’s a bit of a stretch, but we all do it. Even you Carole.

We need to stop talking shit about food.

We have to stop commenting on our own and each other’s bodies.

If you’re not experiencing any severe health challenges and have the energy to function like you can keep up with life, chances are your diet’s fine.

Can we please get over it?

Can we please change the subject?

24th of september shall be a very good day.

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life • 19 Comments

Guess what I just did??

I just shot the campaign for my first collection that I’ll be selling!!!!

An old photo to illustrate the exact opposite of what I’m feeling.

I’ve finally found the right time to start my own commercial brand and am opening webshop in 9 days ! Fuck. Yeah.

Since I finished my education in fashion I’ve been so lucky to work with such a creative individual with such a strong signature style. I’ve supported her when she doubted, sewn her up when she unravelled and eaten and swallowed my own words when I’ve asked for her to be anything other than herself. Being part of developing someone else’s personal style is probably one of the most challenging, exciting and sobering things a designer can do. You’re not only creating what you yourself want -you have to put your ego aside and morph your own vision with another person’s. There’s different taste, referanses, aesthetics.. it can be frustrating. Because we don’t really get each other, not fully. My vision for her is not her’s of her self. And that’s the most important lesson I’ve learned through working with her. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter how intricate this detail is if she doesn’t feel like a god damn goddess warrior walking in the room. And I’ve found that the less we judge each others choices concerning how we identify, the more we are. And the more we are -the more potential is released, more creation, more art, more love. There’s nothing more beautiful than someone one hundred per cent comfortable in what they’re wearing. It can bring SO MUCH POWER. -It’s your chosen skin!! Choose to enhance what you are and want to be, without rules or correct answers. Beauty isn’t in the eye of the beholder in fashion, it’s in confidence.

My sister, my boss lady, my muse and best friend.. she embodies all of that. And she’s one of the strongest, sexiest women I know.

So..! I can’t wait to share this journey with a couple of key pieces I’ve made for her thus far. The journey’s just begun. Hopefully someone else can find a little extra strength through them too<3

9 days !!!

From <40 kg to >40 km

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life, The skin • 20 Comments

I’m writing this yesterday, because today I’m preoccupied dressing, eating enough and drinking enough but not too much. In two hours I’m running a marathon.

I’ve even shaved my legs. Which (I can’t even blame it on being married since it started way before that) has become somewhat of a ritual before something big is about to happen. Birthdays, holidays, Christmas…sunny days. I don’t go around shaving my legs for no reason. I really don’t see the need to and will forever look up to those women who always have shit like that sorted out at all times.

Besides, I couldn’t shave my legs often even if I wanted to (I don’t) -my legs get really defensive when touched more than twice a week (I don’t shave them that often). My leg hair-roots are highly sensitive and prefer it if I focus on other areas, like my armpits. Those guys aren’t sensitive at all. On the bright side my legs are really soft should an occasion special enough to deserve this kind of attention occur. Like today.

Actually they’re not really that silky soft anymore since I’m writing this yesterday. (Busy eating and dressing etc., remember?) But they’re still dressed for the occasion and beat most days.

I’ve been looking forward to this day since the day I bought the ticket several months ago.

And it feels weird to say I’ve trained for this marathon.. because I haven’t. Not really. I’ve just gotten an extra excuse to spend more time running. Had a reason to test a couple of times how a really long run felt like. I never knew I’d love it as much as I did. It’s almost unfair to the people who run and hate running; I wouldn’t wish anyone who didn’t love running to run. Never. Your body doesn’t love it. it takes a lot of time. And very lonely I can imagine for a person who doesn’t like it. Long-distance running is always a lonely activity. It’s you. Your breath. no one would care if you’d stopped. The pounding on the ground. Rhythm. That sweet-spot you know you can go km after km at.  There’s no measuring as to whether you finished or did good except time and distance. But you always succeed. Even if the run was small and sluggish, you still went for a run. You still won.

I felt like I was training once though. The couple of weeks after I got very bad shinsplints and a bad knee and couldn’t walk properly. I did som alternative stuff at the gym and hated it. Apparently I had really wrong shoes for running (fuck that guy, whoever you are at the sportswear shop) and the pain slowly went away after I got new ones. I haven’t cried since.

Joking, of course I have. But for different reasons than lack of running.

It’ll be exciting to see how today’s race feels like. I reckon I’ll either hate it or absolutely love it. I’ll either get anxiety from the crowds and feel too pressured to move or breathe at all and die mid-race, or start searching for the next race in a city I’ve always wanted to go to but never had a reason to the next day. Whichever it is I’m really proud of myself. This is a leap longer than I’ve taken in a long time. I’m believing in myself enough to sign up to something so publicly, telling everyone who crossed my path since knowingly that I’ll physically be feeling something close to a panic attack for several hours. Heart pounding, sweat dripping whilst looking like.. I don’t even want to give it a name, because I’ll actually be looking like myself. And not only accept that, but to embrace that.

That’s why I’m so proud of myself.

Myself..; tired, nose running (got a cold this week, obviously), sweaty, red faced and very possibly crying (not that a crowd’s ever stopped me from doing the latter).. I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that that’s also me. In the last year I’ve gained kilograms, fats, muscles -I don’t care and I don’t wanna know! I feel, for the first time that I can remember, not ashamed of my body. I don’t like all of it at all times, but (for now) I can honestly say I don’t really feel the responsibility to do anything about it.

My upper arms for example. I’ve never been happy with my upper arms. Why, I don’t know. If I didn’t feel they were embarrassingly thin and had to be put away before seen, they were massive and definitely to be put away before anyone, myself included, laid their innocent eyes on them. I can probably count on one hand how many days I’ve been just the right amount of weight that made me comfortable with my arms. And that’s including water-weight and temperature. It’s thinner than I’d want it to be. That’s why I’ve decided to not care anymore. It doesn’t matter how they look -they’re not there to look like – anything..! They’re there for far more important stuff. Like holding a glass of wine. And hugging. And that’s what I have to remind myself the days that I do care. I can’t and shouldn’t control how my body looks, that shouldn’t and never should have been in my hands. It’s a huge relief.

I thought about running for charity of some sort. But then I thought this one’s for me. Today’s definitely mine.

To whom it may concern behind the rack of protein shakes. Yes, you. With the attitude.

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life, Uncategorized • 27 Comments

I’ve set foot in two gym’s in my life. One in my old town when I was around fifteen and briefly tried to work out to get skinnier. I quickly found out I wasn’t one to lift and squeeze all day, I had better things to do, and quit after a year or so to venture out on new paths towards thigh gaps, arms that went in on both sides of the elbow and destruction.

Second gym I’ve seen was the one I went to last winter.  Just down the road from here is a small gym. Went there for a couple of months before the wind softened and ice melted. It’s a dump. Outdated and mostly enjoyable for the senior groups I saw on numerous occasions sitting around a table eating fruit and cookies after sessions in one of the outdated rooms I can imagine. They seemed very happy. It was cute. But the ladies working there were total assholes. Rude and wouldn’t let me wear a sleeveless top. Are you fucking kidding me? Sometimes they didn’t even say Hi. It was mostly five people there and I’d walk right past them entering. I know you see me!

And now this one. The one I joined today due to shitty weather. This is a big new one! Lots of treadmills on the second floor pointing outwards, big windows, all kinds of offers like swimming pool, hot yoga, squash, endless of sessions for everything.. Not that I’ll ever use any of it. I’ll just pay a ridiculous amount of money to use a treadmill overlooking a road and a carpark.

I also had to pay 450 NOK for a session with a personal trainer. Which I politely asked the lady if I could skip since I wouldn’t really be needing it. She smirked and laughed at me while she, in a very condescending manner, said that “No, no -you’ll want to do that, you do. You don’t turn that down” whilst glancing at her partner who smirked back. Smirked!!! It wasn’t even an option! I had to pay money for a session with a personal trainer I have NO interest whatsoever to meet with. I actually thought about asking her if she could make an exception due to mental illness. But decided not to since I don’t owe her an explanation on why I wouldn’t be needing one, it’s my business. But hey, don’t ask me why.. Just assume I think I know everything and feel that I’m too good for your pathetic little trainers, that I’m above that shit. Assume that, go ahead.

I don’t want one ’cause I just wanna run. I just enjoy running and it quiets the voices harassing me every day without running. I don’t wanna be aware of how I run, how to improve it or hear how I can get leaner and stronger arms, I don’t need to.

I’ll just pretend I died and not answer him when he suggests time and date.

I felt totally belittled and stupid for even being there.

Why the FUCK, can someone please tell me, do people working at the gym think they’re better than the rest of us? Why? Do they think they’re the only one’s with knowledge of the human body? Last time I checked it takes a year, A SINGLE teeny-tiny year, to become a personal trainer. You don’t know shit about the human body and mind compared to at least a hundred other occupations. And people, normal people, are at the gym for crying out loud – most of us scared shitless to even be there because of assholes like you. We’re here to work out.. Break a sweat. Pause the lives we lead for others. It’s a beautiful thing putting off time to yourself, focusing on becoming stronger. Cheer us on, please. I wanna see a look on your face that fucking screams “I am so proud of you for deciding to come in here today! Have a GREAT FUCKING WORKOUT!! YOU.. -YOU LEGEND!!!!”

Only one way to have girls’ night. Shamelessly.

by  on  in Beauty, The life, Uncategorized • 8 Comments

Had the most fun girls’ night out I’ve had in such a long time last night. I’ve only seen Grease once in my life, so me and Silja decided that it was time. Time to summon the troops and grease up for a shamelessly drunken night out. Turns out champagne mixed with Travoltas’ skinnyjeans and bubblegum results in flashes from late teens and karaoke. It was just what I needed and we’re already planning our next quest.

I must admit though, being as self-conscious as I am and taking myself way to seriously (not too serious to eat pizza at two in the morning, but girls gotta eat right), I couldn’t get myself up there and sing. Even as drunk as I was. Pathetic. But I really enjoyed watching the other brave women and men up there. Fighting for the high notes.. It really brings people together doesn’t it. Putting that kind of vulnerability and embarrassment on display.

Should I have been one of those bitches I hope it would’ve been Rizzo. Definitely.

This mascara only made it to my first pee at Siljas’. I tried, though, I really did.

Unlike these beauties.

These’ll last for weeks hopefully and took no effort at all.

Damn straight Rizzo. Damn straight.

Thank The Universe for girls’ night.

Turning my head to the good side !

by  on  in Beauty, The life • 5 Comments

Good morning!

I’m off to Oslo in half an hour, needs to put my face on still, but have huge announcements to make.

I changed the side I part my hair.

You like?

Huge commitment.

Got so excited I made a little dance.

I felt nice.

As a (side) bonus my smiling side is now on my better side of my top. My face. Because who smiles from the same side you have the most hair, which falls into your eyes? No. I prefer smiling from my right side. But have been forced to do the terrible thing for a year now; smiling from my worst side. Or less great side, maybe. My left side.

I have great teeth on my right side.

This side.

I’ve always wanted to fix the left one. But my closest people have always told me not to. Says it’s part of my charm. I feel it’s childish and something that tells you not to take me seriously. And that’s my biggest defense mechanism. Not that I’m mastering it very well. I’ll fix it though when I have a serious job and make money to do so!

Look at it.

This was last night though. When I blow dried it. Blew dried? Doesn’t sit with me. Anywsay, I had a really good hair-day last night. Typical, right? Feeling good when there’s nobody there to witness?

Then I slept. On one side. Not so nice this morning to say the least.

But it’s fine. It’l settle. Like the rest of our tops it needs some time settling.

Exciting day ahead, and then we’re going to the other one’s family the rest of the weekend. Up north. Or mid-country. Ish. Anyways, they’re some of the coolest people I know, and I love having out with them. So freakin’ lucky. And they like talking and wineing (I made a word just now) as much as I do.

Cheers! Love to you! And have a good weekend!

Covering up

by  on  in Beauty, The life, The skin • 12 Comments

Aaaah my skin is driving me so crazy! And it’s SUCH a small thing, I’m aware. Such a small thing. A tiny problem in one life out of ALL of the problems in ALL the lives living on this rotating ball we call “our” home. Haha actually watched a documentary-thing yesterday whilst ironing about storing our knowledge and history in some type of new technology. For humans. After we’re all dead. So.. humans further down the line.

Like evolution would be so fucking stupid.

And it’s all in 1’s and 0’s. Obviously. Because if we start all over again we’d probably fuck up as badly as this batch did and end up in 1’s and 0’s.

I think that IF.. and that’s a big if..; the hooman, the species Homo Sapiens, finds their way back to earth they’d do far better than we did. Hopefully we were the first pancake. And we got eaten immediately. Not saved and protected to enjoy later. Just fucked up, broken and eaten.

Anyways, bigger stuff: my skin. I’ve been doing the full routine recommended by my dermatologist for rosacea from ZO skin health for nine months. And six months is what it takes apparently for you to be able to really see if something’s really working. Which I… yeah. I’ll go with it. Whether or not my skin is better underneath the surface, I can’t say. Anti-aging-wise etc. I don’t fucking care now, do I? I’m not scared of wrinkles or sun-spots or whatever -that’s my life showing in my face. That’s fucking beautiful. I’m young with baby skin now and I want to go out without constantly being scared of people hugging me and in doing so accidentally wipe some of my foundation off revealing Rudolf underneath.

And what bothers me the most: people fucking going around parading great success for EVERYONE ! THIS IS THE SOLUTION FOR EVERYONE !

That’s just great.

How great for you! That your problems were fixed. I feel for you the same way I feel for people who start doing mindfulness and gets cured for whatever alleged mental health illness they popped into for a quick hello. And then make statements about everyone being able to beat whatever illness they’re battling with.

Fuck you. I feel nothing for you.

Parading about like the cat that got the cream about your success, swearing by lifestyle changes, products or medicines right and left. You’re making the rest of us feel inadequate. Unfixable.

There’s also the possibility that my skin’s just naturally gotten worse and would get to this state regardless. There is also a chance that’s the case. But why should I then spend thousands for skin products?

Also. The people thinking you’re still in third grade and fishing for compliments for your obviously superior drawing by flaunting it around being all “ooh, my drawing is so ugly…..” to the person holding this bad boy.

After a certain age you get real problems and stop fucking around with the term. And, please, you people – meet Internet. It’s all over the place. You can do anything with makeup. We won’t need witness protection programs anymore. Just Kardashian kits.

So! As a conclusion..: even though skin issues or mental health issues (sometimes they’re connected) aren’t visible at first glance doesn’t mean they’re not there.

Weekend’s around the corner and I’m doing a very exciting project tomorrow.  Which I’ll be very proud to tell you about later. Love to you!

Leave it be, dance and be fucking free

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The fashion, The life • 7 Comments

I got the gift of food last night from a friend who appreciates food as much (maybe even more, we’ll find out over a fight one day) as I do and it was wonderful. WONDERFUL! Fine dining at it’s best. If you’re in Bergen and love tiny expensive food, seriously, check it out. You die. A little bit.

Colonialen

Also got this sweater from my mom so it was a very good day indeed yesterday.

I never shop myself. I spend all my money on student-loans, foundation, food, wine and lotion. So every time someone buys me something (usually the other one) I feel sooooo special and I wanna live in it till the day I die.

Woke up at eleven pretty hungover. Many courses means many wines. So many good wines.

So I’m very happy right here today. The bar’s been lowered and this is the best thing there is.

Do both, I say. Wouldn’t want that thigh-gap sneaking up on you either.

So now I’m sitting here looking at my ironing board

feeling drawn to the tv where I put on the show that forces celebrities to dance in skimpy outfits. Hilarious. Brave. Brave as fuck actually.

But as tired as I may be (I’ve been vertical for some time now -getting better) I feel so good. SO good. I’ve been feeling so sad lately. Over my thigh-gap. Haha. But seriously. There used to be a gap in my thighs now it’s a gap in my life.

I’ve been struggling with the fact that I’ve turned into a healthy grown up woman. I’ve never been so far down this road (weight-wice, guys). I’ve always been scared of imagining this point thinking that if I’d imagined it it could become true. I’m terrified of what’s gonna happen if I don’t turn around and start running the other direction soon. The rest of the story I haven’t written? I have no idea what’s gonna happen now? How will it end, which direction must I go , heck -I don’t even know for sure what the plot is anymore??

One thing’s for sure, I’m NEVER saying never ever again EVER in my life.

That’ll never be me.

I’ll never do that.

Because there you are one day.. eating not only every four hours or so but your own words. I seriously thought I’d never weigh over 50 kg again.

Ever.

I told myself that not only wouldn’t I allow that to happen, but that I was above that. If I thought of it as an impossible act – it would be. The ridiculousness of it all would cause an earthquake before that would even begin to think about maybe happen in the foreseeable future. Like my pride and superior way of thinking – soaring above other human’s primitive needs would shield me from loosing control in any way and actually live my life like a full person. A free person.

I must laugh at how little I’ve weighed over the years and actually thought of myself as fat. As this number to be my limit. My “roof” of numbers showed on a scale. And that I’d never get this fat again and start loosing weight the very next day. I’ve learned my lesson these last few weeks and will probably have to learn it again; just never.. Never say anything to yourself about yourself ever again. Don’t assess yourself, don’t think about what was and what is to be. Just fucking leave yourself alone. Most likely I’ll weigh more than I do today at some point. Just thinking that makes me wanna vomit in my mouth, let alone writing it for others to read. I feel fat now. Hahahahaha, I’m killing myself I’m too funny.

Anyways. I’ll leave myself alone now, let my beautiful, slightly softer body be and enjoy this glorious day with all the glorious assholes I look very much up to at the tv.

I, too, shall dance today..!

HAVE THE BEST FRIDAY AND WEEKEND EVER!!!!

ROSACEA DIET WTF

by  on  in Beauty, The life, The skin • 23 Comments

For the first time in my life I’m on a DIET! Whaaaat?!

It’s not a health-thing. At all. It’s a skin-thing. After spending many years, thousands of NOK, three painful laser treatments (which made me so swollen at one point I almost couldn’t open one of my eyes), antibiotics, some acidic-treatment -thing that left some open wounds and my skin burning for hours after application leaving me unable to do anything other than holding ice in a bag to my face (white girl problems, I know. But still, any issue, big or small to others, is as painful and big of a deal as it feels to YOU). SO! I have now started a.. I’m gonna call it Rosaiet! Haha. Diet just doesn’t sit right with me. Anyways. It’s basically just avoiding stuff that triggers flare-ups and worsening the condition overall. Mainly it’s food that release histamine, pungent / sour vegetables, citrus fruits and foods that are hard to digest. Dairy and red meat. And of course, the devil itself. Sugar.

In Italy. Not current state. Just current feels.

Lot of this is easy. Sugar is easily replaced by honey. Red meat I almost never eat anyways. Citrus I’ve always felt to be inflammatory, therefore somewhat avoided. I’ve never drank milk, just almond milk. Used to be soy milk actually, but also supposed to avoid soy. Quite bummed actually, soy yoghurt was a part of my everyday breakfast. But the hardest things are actually vegetables..! Who knew??! And chocolate and wine gum obviously. The hardest thing to give up so far includes the following:

Tomatoes, avocado, egg-plant, onion, carrots, bananas. Who knew, right?! Bananas? Histamine?!!!

Cheese (can still eat goat and -cottage cheese, thank you very much)

Ham and raw stuff that goes with the cheese. As well as figs. Haha. I have to change a lot of things apparently. Gimme the bread.

Spices (e.g. ginger, pepper and cumin, soy sauce and vinegar). Obviously chili, but I’ve avoided this forever and am not that stupid.

Anything containing sugar. Yay.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME EATING BETTER, CLEANER OR HEALTHIER. Obviously sugar is killing us, but that’s not the point. DO NOT MISTAKE THIS FOR AN INSPIRING EAT THIS – DON’T EAT THAT POST. THIS IS FOR ROSACEA VICTIMS.

(most of the stuff I’m avoiding is healthy anyways, okay. So just stop)

Thank the Universe I can indulge in pasta, bread and all starch one can imagine. Just too bad I can’t mix any of it with tomato sauce. And pizza I’ll make myself from now on. Sundays just have to change from now on. I’ll put.. I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out. San Marino Pizza on the corner will lose a dedicated sunday-customer.

Current state. Skin really good today actually.

But I’ll have to get creative! And I love focusing on food and cooking in a positive manner. What CAN I eat and HOW can I make it fabulously tasteful? And it’s not like it is for ever. I’ll do this for maybe a couple of months, see what happens, then start including things one by one.

On a different note -newfound respect for people dining out with allergies..! Wow. Tried going to an Italian restaurant without having tomatoes or dairy. She hooked me up with something eventually, but looked as uncomfortable and shocked as I felt. What if one’s allergic to dairy and don’t like tomatoes? Or just a vegan with a fucked up vegetable palette? I almost just asked for plain pasta, melted butter in a cup with a cucumber on the side.

On a positive note I had waffles for dinner yesterday. Which is fun. I can now and simply must now just eat whatever I can of whatever the fuck I can, at ALL times. I am very aware of this not turning into a negative excluding and perfecting of my diet. And so far I’ve actually eaten more “real foods” than I’d normally do. Probably because I never satisfy my real cravings. Like chocolate or ice cream, yoghurt and fruits. Never realized how much fruit I ate..

Things I do ignore though (one must also live and I would actually have to jump out of my kitchen window) includes the following:

White wine and sparkling wine (I avoid red wine, spirits and beer. Luckily cocktails’ve never been my thing. Red’s definitely the worst for rosacea and makes me swell up like a roasted tomato before bursting-point. So I’ve been avoiding that for a while now..)

Coffee

Exercise

It also says stress everywhere, which makes me laugh. Like if it was an option any of us would chose to do so.

And that’s it for this post. Happy eating and have a great rest of the week! I’m feeling strong and positive, quite stoked actually to have a whole new focus on my eating.

It’s all about what we CAN do to make our situation better. Not what we CAN’T do! Go, Us!!

Feeling as open and ready for a world full of wonders as these curtains we were forced to experience in the most random hotel I’ve ever been in, look. You’ve guessed it. Not Italy. Germany. Ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Now, did someone say pancakes for breakfast? I think I did.

What is FARIKAL really about, you say..?

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life, Uncategorized • 7 Comments

I just quickly want to explain what FARIKAL is about and what our aspirations for the future are.

FARIKAL consists of

Stine Malene Foss Berg : Partner and Graphic Designer.

Iben Berstrøm : Partner and Head of Marketing and Communications.

Viktoria Lutterloh Aksnes : Partner and Fashion Designer.

FARIKAL started with Iben Bergstrøm’s realization of the huge lack of information about Norwegian craft techniques. This quickly resulted in the three of us coming together deciding to change that, little by little.

We’re very patient.

FARIKAL is all about two things:

Preservation and representation through reinvention of Norwegian heritage and crafts. We want to focus on bringing history and character into the products we produce. There are so many beautiful Norwegian crafts yet to discover and make more current, especially for younger generations. FARIKAL wishes to be in the lead of providing that for not only Norwegians but for the rest of the world.

Producing slow sustainable fashion as opposed to the dominating socially and environmentally destructive mass production in the fashion industry we see today and through building closer relationships to producers and buying more local raw-materials we hope to contribute to the movement of increasing our respect for fashion – decreasing our consumption. Making our consumers aware of our product’s history and origin we wish to encourage consumers to shop with more emotions and more appreciation. As we all know our beautiful planet can not keep up with our consumption, so this is and has to be the future way.

We are so proud and excited to find ourselves in the process of producing (right here in Norway..!) THREE garments inspired by our Craft Collection A/W 2017 to be sold at the end of September. We decided to start off small, producing in a very limited quantity and will be selling them in our pop up in Bergen and webshop.

See our first Craft Collection at http://farikal.com and subscribe to our newsletter to see what’s going on!

All photos by Øystein Grutle Haara
Model: Eleonor Katarina Bjerkelund
MUA: Miranda Aksnes
Hair: Jonas Jelti - Adam og Eva Bergen

Dwelling willingly

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life • 16 Comments

I’ve moved back to the country for the week. Seems I was only visiting our own place for the weekend and felt my stomach drop by the thought of staying. The other one’s headed out for work today and’ll be gone all week and I seem to start leaking any fucking moment left on my own. So it seemed like a good idea.

All of my family is home. Which is so rare for many families. Not ours. And it’s a blessing and a curse. We all get into each other’s business. We all postpone whatever’s weighing us down on the great Outside. We only want to spend time together. That’s why it’s so hard for us to be alone I think. We’re so used to us being there and we’re so dependent on each other. When we’re together we feel stronger and happier, than we actually are even! Not that I don’t think I’m my true self when I’m with them, but it sure is a different self who greets the world. A smaller self.

I know I’d struggle alone these days. And am always pulled towards destruction. When dealt with stuff through destructive ways for so long -that’s the only way I’ve achieved control amongst all this mess. Plus it’s so much easier. Being happy takes a lot more work during these periods. I feel I’ve been ignorant and greedy for too long. I also think my dosage’s too low.. I don’t think one’s supposed to feel like this. Maybe I’ve done that willingly.

Anyway, the others will be up soon and I don’t want to dwell here any longer. Slap on a smile, fix that leak, and face this beautiful rainy day.

Here’s some more photos from the shoot with Julie Pike, for the A New Type Of Imprint copy.

Cloaked in flowers and thunder!

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The fashion, The life • 12 Comments

Wednesday. Midweek. Working intensely these days to be able to take half of Thursday and Friday off. The other two are moving so I was thinking I’d stand around drinking wine watching them carry their stuff around.

The weekend was great, as expected. I put my best foot forward as usual, the sun actually came out and we left the party (fairly) early. By (fairly) early I mean we didn’t stay to see the sun rise. It’s quite a crazy crowd. Who get crazier when they get together. Not that I’m better. Worse, probably.

Anyways.

Felt like I needed an extra confidenceboost and give a big Fuck you to my inner voices, so I went Frida Kahlo on the whole tropical theme.

What a woman. A woman of true grit. Larger than life, living fearlessly honest. With passion and drive, complicated love, open about her demons and aware of herself and the way she wanted to live her life.. Which I can relate to. Admire at the least. How ever composed I try to be at times, I do own the whirlwind of a woman that I really am. Like we heard in a movie once that resonated with the little one as a description of me; a woman cloaked in thunder.

I liked it.

Obviously intended to make hair ornament out of fresh flowers. Then again who has that kind of time. Bought some cheap plastic ones and tried to ignore for the entire evening that bullshit elastic band around my head. What am I, a child?

Embarrassing.

Maybe it was made for children..? Who cares.

I did, that’s who. But I’m over it now that the whole thing is over.

Ever graceful.

Packed wine according to how much weight I could carry, and off to the party.

(Also brought my self-made freckles because they’re so fucking cute)

Feeling extremely uncomfortable in my own skin these days ( read; fat. Yes, my eating disorder is still happening and is something I deal with and ignore on a daily basis. I am personally convinced I’ll have to for the rest of my life, and get quite agitated when people tell me otherwise), which resulted in me practically gulping down my wine. Because through carefully and at times quite painfully practicing the elimination method I’ve found this is the easiest, and worst, way to survive the present when the present is a bit shite. There’s no meditating the present away. Sorry. No time for mindfulness when you have social anxiety up to your elastic fucking band, possibly made of and for children, and have to meet and greet fifty people you haven’t seen in about nine years.

But I got away with it without any scandals. Other than a few small (I’ll say, but then again I’m cloaked in thunder) charming improprieties, topping the whole thing off with an actual couples dance of swing..! Which I thought was hilarious. I’d never do a dance class myself. No matter how impressed I was. I would just, never. Not even for our wedding we did. Just, no. Great fun though! When drunk. Channeling Frida Kahlo. Sure she’d enjoy it as well.

 I had a great time! Really. And the best of times always comes when newly experienced pain I find. The contrast is exhilarating. Intoxicating.

Happy Wednesday to you, take comfort in that the worst is over and it’s hopefully downhill from here!

Life would be so much more fun if we were all rich and crazy wasn’t inconvenient?

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life • 32 Comments

Turns out… On meds I’m only an average person. With an averagely amusing life. I’m fucking bored out of my mind. Talked to my husband about it, disappointingly he had nothing helpful to say besides welcoming me to his side. He’s been bored his entire life.

I need to fucking do something soon. Start a band or something. I know someone with a band and she’s never bored. She’s longing to be bored.

I’m not musical, though.. Maybe I could become a sommelier. Just casually. Become a master of the Wines. But then I’d have to drink with (and much less than) the people I would be speaking Wine in front of. And you don’t speak Wine, you drink it. So that’s out.

I honestly don’t know what to do with myself. Guess the reasonable thing would be to try to get used to this new way of life. Hike more. Cook more. Read more. Stuff I already enjoy.

Like work.

Aaah, still got the sense of humor, though. I’m not gonna work more.

Rather be sitting here in this magical lighting blogging about how my self-taught, home schooled  sommelier-education is going.

…

Ok, I’m laughing now. And yes, it’s past eight o’clock. Obviously I’m in my pajamas with that make-up free radiant face we all know so well from the commercials.

Enjoying the work that I’ve have been doing, though. But mostly I’m enjoying planning / dreaming of our honeymoon coming up in a couple of months. We’re not big planners really, took us like two months to plan the whole wedding. But we’ve started thinking about it. We’re thinking about driving.. My only concern with this plan (obviously his plan to start) was the lack of sexy in us arriving Italy by car. Our car. It’s a mitsubishi, something -whatever.

But we were gonna rent one and drive through Italy anyway, though.. So we decided to start looking for a new one. I know, we’re two big brats with shiny ball syndrome. But our car really is a boring car.. There it is’ again! Reasonable. Average. Family. Booooring. Ok family isn’t boring, but having a family-friendly car whilst being childless newly-weds is boring.

I haven’t been this excited about a car since the first time I saw Nicolas Cage riding Eleanor like Angelina in gone in sixty seconds.

God damn.

That is one sexy man in one sexy car.

(say what you will about Nicolas Cage -I love him and think he’s a spectacular actor)

We’re not getting a mustang though. That would be too unreasonable. And we’re not nearly as old to be acting that childish.

Point is. And here it is. Already struggling to listen to myself here.. We’ll just have to try harder. Pack a fucking picnic-basket with home-made whatever you like and invite a friend to the park. Whatever green’s close to you. Hike. Learn something new. Read. Make something, fucking paint! sew, build -whatever. I don’t know.. Learn MMA!

I seriously doubt I’ll do any of those things.

Maybe I’ll just get pregnant.

After the summer.

At least we know when the week ends and the weekend begins

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life • 6 Comments

Stockholm, you’re so beautiful!! The beautiful historic buildings and streets makes me wanna live there. Or at least tear one up and put it in the ground over here.

Like this place. This door.

With a hairdresser in my courtyard.

Not that one needs one when the hotel’s giving barber’s cuts for free. Obviously me and the little one took advantage of this to trim our shaved bits. Not our pits. She went first obviously. I joined her after two breakfast-mimosa’s like a scared child needing someone to hold her hand.

BUT! The barber ended up giving me a full fresh amazing haircut!! I just couldn’t be happier!

LOOK!

HOW HAPPY I AM!

No. but I was though. And celebrated with another mimosa before entering the ice cold but sunny and friendly Stockholm.

Luckily had this possy with me.

We don’t really know each other.

And with ma new cut and ma new sunglasses..

I can honestly say I almost felt completely confident.

(I know, so cool and all, but these are the first glasses over like a hundred bucks I’ve ever bought! Jokes, my husband did. What am I, made out of money?)

I know, btw, that’s not the “politically correct” (as you call everyone out on anything they say over there somewhere) way of using the term “jokes”. But I’ll do it anyway. I like it! And it goes great with a little snort á la agent Hart in my head when I write it.

(If you know the reference, you know. Google can’t save you here.)

Here’s another one of me. Expressing how little I care.

They care, on the other hand. About each other <3

What?! Fucking cute.

Then again so are we sometimes.

HAPPY!

As my jeans clearly states for themselves.

Oh, and we also saw the great Bob, for the second time. I cried. Mostly for the wrong reasons. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Seriously though can’t wait for spring. As much as love this coat, I can’t fucking wait to get out of it.

I don’t know where I end and it starts anymore..

Laying the groundworks for infinite champagne and cake

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life, The skin • 5 Comments

Bergen is today providing another perfect excuse to go away for a long weekend with my family.

So fucking stoked.

AND the three of us are divided between two rooms. My husband is joining us for one night due to work. Thank The Universe !

I’m traveling lightly. Airline norwegian is being a fucking bitch again charging all of my money for luggage besides carry-on. So! only carry-on for moi. Which I’m freaking a little bit out about. Not that I’m one of those people who bring entire wardrobe, squeezed in like emergency options together with ten of it’s family members. No. I am not. I just want them to be able to breathe. Because I only bring the really good stuff when I’m going away. Not the shit that’s been lying around three moves ago.

One must definitely not bring garments like this one though. The best of stuffs.

-the most special ones you love so so much, people with children wouldn't even recognize that kind of love

Which I wore last Saturday to this fabulous spot’s Champagne-lunches, Bien Bar.

What’s also fabulous is this interview VG -Min Mote did.

dis one right here

Another fabulous thing that happened last weekend is the little one gave me these shoes.

Wouldn’t have bought them myself, but I like them. She bought them because who has the strength to walk away from a good bargain? Plus she has freakishly small feet. She’s what that best friend in Pretty Woman would call Cinde-fucking-rella.

My feet on the other hand – very normal.

I therefore have quite the high hopes for this weekend.

Calling all forces initiating Process to perfection. We’re talking washing. Scrubbing. Trimming. Cutting. Sculpting. Spackling. Painting.

Moisturizing.

When I have time I want to feel as ready for anything possible when going on holiday. There’s also the fact that a holiday is also a temporary demise of your temple of a body. So you wanna even things out a bit -prepare a certain quota, if you will. (I’m a control freak, we’ve established this, and I have a problem)

I drink a lot of champagne, okay. I need to start hydrated.

Have a FABULOUS WEEKEND !!!

Or not.

Netflix is my best friend as well.

Hold on to your hats, she’s going rogue

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy • 12 Comments

I recently broke up with my psychologist..

You know when you’ve sucked that chewed-up straw in your third daiquiri for so long making that horrible annoying sound, there’s just nothing left, and you’re just forced to go get a new man go get you a new one?

Nothing like that.

That is totally objectifying and I take it back.

No, but part of it actually is that I’ve used that relationship for what it was worth. We had a certain tone that suited me at a certain time. I need a different tone now. Or no tone for a while! I’m sick of trying, but not seeing the effect that I need. So it’s over.

Which is fine, because he couldn’t understand the root of my anxiety. I wasn’t able to explain (actually I did but he didn’t get it) my anxiety clearly (I did).

The silk gloves are off. You’re fired and I’m taking over the wheels.

And I’ve been thinking a lot. About one of the main issues causing my anxiety. My whole life I’ve been ‘told’ about my physical appearance. I remember very early in my life being aware of how I looked. I was never one of those girls in princess dresses, so I know I didn’t feel the need to look a certain way. On the contrary I always cut my hair in an as-short-as-my-mom-would-let-me-bob and dressed in clown patterned suits rather than dresses!

I was told how skinny I was and that I should drink full fat cream, how big brown and beautiful my eyes were, what a beautiful smile I had and that I should use it more often.. Of course this just followed me and excelled the older I got. Feedback when I gained some weight, how my tits started to fill out my tiny bra nicely, how I should become a model, stop smoking -a beautiful girl like you. This constant feedback.

Men seemed to like how I looked. Which was great. I was always popular, had boyfriends. Even older guys would flirt with me before I knew what flirting was! I thought they were making fun of me, I remember it very clearly. But all of this was fun, if anything else embarrassing, never a bad thing.

Then I hit 15. A lot was happening that reshaped my life, but suddenly this attention became a burden. I don’t know how to explain myself without sounding like a total narcissist. I felt that I had to live up to this image, this persona created in the eyes of others that was never supposed to define or shape me and the paths I chose. It’s sad to say it did to the extent it did. For the first time in my life I felt ugly. I developed an eating disorder and started abusing alcohol and drugs just to stand myself and my life. I was disgusted by myself. All the other things I used to define myself as, all my qualities, my skills and treasures, were lost to me. As if they never even existed. Over night I was nothing but my physical appearance. And I hated it.

Now, this is awful. It’s awful the read, it’s awful to write. And today I’m mostly not disgusted and actually am quite happy with the way I look. I just haven’t reached the finish-line, but I’m on the right path towards it.

I am beautiful.

And we love hearing that, don’t we? People getting over their shame and self-hatred, starting off the day with that affirmation in the mirror until they believe it

“I’m beautiful. I am beautiful. I AM BEAUTIFUL !!”

That’s my issue still though. I am, again, defining my strength and self-love on how I feel about my physical appearance that day. So I will never get over that part, which holds the other parts in it’s hands, that carries my anxiety. Thus, my life! It’s all very discouraging. I can’t even look a man in the eyes without entering his brain and judge every inch of my face and body. Burning from blushing from thinking over any possible thought he must have of me, scared to death he’s actually going to comment on any of it. Fucking killing him in my mind when he comments on what he sees as blushing from the compliment he just gave me, when I’m really raging over how he dares address my physical appearance rather than my presence.

It’s all very unfair. It’s a privileged illness social anxiety. But countless bottles of wine I drink with my girl friends reassuring ourselves that we  don’t need ANY man’s or woman’s approval and that we are BEAUTIFUL no matter what, and we DON’T CAAARE what other people think!,

it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t meet anyone without my body reacting as if death was around the corner. And that death will see how ugly I am.

My looks never concerned me before it was the first thing people defined me for. All I can do now is, and I encourage you to do the same, build up those treasures left behind. Like my creativity. My leadership skills. My physical strength. This special skill set I’ve developed during these years working on myself! They’re amazing, some of the truths I’ve discovered!! Sharing those. Shedding some light on the truth that your physical appearance is such a small part of who you are. It feels, in today’s society, a lot bigger. It really isn’t. You will be much happier if you put your time and effort into the other parts that make you you. Your mind has so much to discover about you. And slowly, you won’t even know the ship is moving, your focus will shift. A little bit.

I for one can only hope that I one day will worry about how the people around the table judge my actual work when I’m presenting it for them. Not my ability to convince them I’m beautiful.

FÃ…RIKÃ…L -CLOSER- LAUNCH pt. 1

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion • 10 Comments

The feeling of anticipation. The anticipation in others to see something you’ve created.

It’s really a privileged feeling.

Obviously one is backstage and don’t see any of it. But you feel it. The laughs outside. The champagne being popped. That hint of crisp air you’ve been craving all day forced under the crack of your backstage door as a result of people pouring in on the other side. The door that, for now, hides the secrets of your inner universe that has been your life for months. Occupying your thoughts and dreams for months.

The involuntary stress that causes you to order your models around like an aggressive male in charge of the navy seals recruitment. Lining them up.. -Go, go, GO!!!

The adrenaline you feel.

Those shoes you want. Aurlandskoen

Followed by the humble, highly awkward moment of a thank you afterwards. I really thought my new Isabel Marant top would elevate my confidence a little bit. At least combined with all the champagne of my prior consumption backstage.

They totally failed me. And left me dying.

With my team Stine Malene Foss Berge and Iben Bergstrøm, despitecolor.blogspot.no <3

Photo: Stian Servoss

I am currently still recovering and don’t expect anything of myself till at least the end of the week.

TODAY WE ROCKETTOTHESKYYY

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life, Uncategorized • 8 Comments

Got up at six today, not that that’s alarmingly early these days, but I actually got a really good nights sleep.

Probably mostly from exhaustion. But there’s not much I wouldn’t do for a good nights sleep nowadays.. Plus I’m also reading in bed now before dozing off. A great way to go. To sleep.

Reading Victoria.

Obviously.

I am a queen.

Last night I put the last buttons in all ma holes and packed my suitcases for today.

Followed by a rare moment my husband caught on camera.

This face.

It’s unbelievable how much help I’ve gotten from the people in my life. I feel so very lucky. I am lucky. But I feel especially humble today. I’ll either cry or put a wall up.. Either one is fine, equally tiring. The one only postponing the other.

Wish me luck, meet you on the other side! So much love for the uplifting words here and on IG, know that it means so very much to me <3

drop mic, I’m out.

no? too far?

CLOSER

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life • 13 Comments

OMG I’M GETTING SO EXCITED !!!

Friday, in two days, TWO SLEEPS: we’re shooting the collection. Then another SEVEN SLEEPS till

FÅRIKÅL Launch Party -AW17 Collection; CLOSER

It’s basically there^^

Lurking in the background

It’s, as anybody who ever created something (be that a masterpiece carefully composed in kindergarten it took forever to dry in the drying-room, or a  beat that’ll kill on the dance floor), terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

I’M IN LABOUR AND ABOUT TO PRESENT MY BABY TO THE WORLD !!

Everyone knows that feeling.

It’s awesome.

And when you reveal that shit; you don’t be afraid..! You stand tall and know that it is Great! Because it’s the only sample in the world there is. And it is you. And you know something and have felt something that no-bo-dy else has.

It is unique.

I seldom regret anything. My body may own a feeling or memory of regret, but in my mind I never allow myself to regret. Something I said about another person when they weren’t listening, a bad outfit, my reckless behavior those nights I drink like a sponge ( I’ve definitely seen a pattern of flashing whilst drunk..), how I used to do my makeup (Wow, that changes quickly -wtf was I thinking?!), some embarrassing post I posted when I started blogging (or, you know, last week..), a bad picture. -Like it or not, It’s all you! Don’t resist it.

And especially about the things we say.. You can’t regret any of that.. Because you wanna be prepared if people decide to confront you. I gather I’m allowed to every opinion I have! Because it’s all based on my emotions and knowledge at the time. You cannot expect people not to be honest and having made an opinion based on the information they’ve gathered? And the people who don’t get that.. maybe they’re not worthy of staying. Fuck ’em.

Like just now, I don’t know if I could use the term gather there. But who cares? I think it sounds great. Fabulous actually. Royal, even.

(That said, never talk in a negative way about the things people didn’t choose. If they were born with it – leave it.)

One thing I wasn’t born with ( smooth transition? ) ; this Fish-leather Choker. I absolutely love it.

Order on demand after launch.

Oh, and last weekend was probably the last party before the launch. So I went all out. In my bra.

The hibernation continues! Backstage photos from the shoot some time in the course of the weekend !