I went back home to Sweden yesterday, for a couple of days over Easter. Now I feel like there’s nothing better in this world than being at my mom’s and dad’s place, where there’s a full fridge, clean air to breathe and a room that waits for me because my mom keeps it like it is (maybe in the hopes that the time turns and I’ll be a single lady my entire life). At the same time, I know I would normalise this environment after two weeks and feel the same about coming back to London again though. It doesn’t take long to adapt.
It’s not like I don’t like London, rather the opposite. I love that city and how it has treated me this year. And it doesn’t feel a bit difficult or bad thinking about London as my place of living for at least two more years. It’s just the thought of ‘fuck it would be nice so settle down somewhere’. Somewhere in Gothenburg maybe. Or I don’t know, anywhere really. Somewhere I could’ve taken all my things and make a home completely mine. Now I have one room in Sweden filled with stuff I could never bring to London. And I have London, which is a city I adore but where I might not see myself living permanently in the future. I don’t know… Then I have an entire home in terms of furniture etc. I literally have everything but a sofa. That’s pretty sick actually. But one and a half year ago, I was looking for places to move in Gothenburg and searched for vintage chairs to a future home. A couple of months later, I got into King’s. Life changes so quickly. Sometimes I love that, and sometimes I’m longing for some sort of stability.
But it’s not super easy being 23, when you want and are expecting to want to explore the world while you at the same time feel like the feeling of ‘being home’. Now I call both Sweden and London home, with the knowledge of the fact that I might not be entirely home in neither. Not my real ones. I’ll always feel home at mom’s and dad’s place, but I need my own space. Even if I live in London now, I’m renting with someone else and it’s in a country where I’m not even sure I’ll be allowed to stay when I’ve finished studying #brexit etc. Even if it’s a bit wicked to think that far ahead maybe, and even if I want to be all ‘carpe diem’, I still feel like it’s a bit frustrating to not have an obvious ‘base’.
Sometimes it feels like I live in a suit case or two. At least that’s the way I moved to another country. I have a room back in Sweden and I’ll rent another one there on an island this summer. It’s like a nomad life modern style. Sometimes that feels great, sometimes not. Because this is not a life I have for a semester or two. It’s two more years. It’s not years I feel like I throw away, but there’s the ‘oh well, then what?’-feeling over it. I wonder 1. What will happen to me? 2. Where will I live? 3. How will I live there? 4. Am I going to feel like home there? 5. For how long will I feel like that? 6. How long will I move? 7. Will I work with law, IR or what? I guess the fact that I study abroad and want to work abroad, do IR and law… It kind of makes me realise that the feeling of ‘home’ might be very distant. Gah. Future. The thought of you is both the most inspiring and horrible there is.
… So, hence, I sit here with a lot of study files I haven’t open but a lot of Easter candy I’ve both opened and eaten within an hour. I was thinking I’d show you a piece of what I defined as my home 100 % until last fall: my room in Sweden. I love this room with my whole heart, which a lot of people probably wouldn’t since it’s a bit of a colour mess.
… like this: really ugly cactuses in funny cans. It’s nothing that screams scandinavian interior design here so I think I did a great job haha. (The careful eye sees the 3 Harry Potter-books on the side – important).
I hope my style of decoration isn’t seen as an interior cultural appropriation. In that case, I’ll try to excuse myself through the fact that I’ve combined IKEA-furniture, Indian cushions, African statues, American candles and UK antiques. Hence, I’ve tried to cover every space of the earth.
It doesn’t get any worse than this: a snowboard that’s been collecting dust due to it’s un-use the last three years, an unclear mixture of paintings, a little George Jensen-investment from Royal Design and stuffed animals. The very weird, hairy thing is from the Olympics in Vancouver. I got it from my first boyfriend’s dad. It’s really ugly but I’ve always loved the Olympics and I think his dad loved me. The other one is a teddy bear I got when I was baptised. I remember I was around 5 years when I wanted to baptise the teddy bear and I remember thinking I wanted it to be called ‘Linus’ after who I was in love with then. The thing was, that the boy I was ‘in love’ with then wasn’t called Linus, but Tim. I remembered that 5 years later, but the teddy bear got to keep its name then. Love life <3
Stubborn as I am, I decided I had to have a music player like this a couple of years ago. I found it on an online auction and here it is: a His Master’s Voice that takes up way too much space in my room but it works. Just saying.
…And I found this beauty in the basement at my grannies place. How cool?! I use it as a jewellery box now. Beside it stands the absolute first flowers I got sent to my address. It wasn’t from a secrete male admirer but from my grannie on my dad’s side, but anyways: my flower virginity is taken everyone so keep on sendin em’!
Lastly: my Blair Waldorf coasters I made a couple of years ago! I did them because I’m so very much a Manhattan girl with Chanel bags and tons of heals in my wardrobe. Or not. But my alter ego is a bit like Blair and I love her. And friends, with that last note, I say xoxo.