I was standing on the train platform, wearing my black coat and skinny jeans, my Dolce & Gabbana thick black rimmed glasses, red lipstick… my farmer’s market chic accessories – I probably looked pretty cool. I also looked exactly like everyone else on that train platform. Maybe my boots were a bit ‘last year’ – fake fur trimmed, with those little balls of fake fur dangling from the top – Ugg knockoffs from the second hand shop in the little Swedish city I was living in.
I was listening to my ipod – to Jill Barber, one of my favourite Canadian artists. I think her biggest hit is Hard Line, and it’s also my favourite song of hers. On this particular day, I was listening to this song over and over. Keeping the ipod in my pocket to the last second, that frantically skipping back a song and listening to it again.
I was on my way to meet a man for a date in Copenhagen. We had met weeks before at a Copenhagen vegetarian meet-up, he asked me to go to an economics talk and veggie restaurant. I said ok.
There I was. A bit nervous… and in love with this song. I have many days where I am just bubbling over with excitement – in awe of how fantastic life is, how much is possible, how crazy it all is. I was in this mood then, and Jill Barber was my sound track. I wanted to share it with someone. To dance! But Sweden, of all places, is not the location for impromptu dance parties. A culture known for it’s quiet reservation; famous for its highly efficient queuing system. Someone once described Swedes to me as coconuts. Americans are mangos they said – soft and easy to get at on the outside, with a tough interior. Swedes are the opposite – tough to crack, but once you’re in, you’re in.
I was standing on the train platform with a bunch of coconuts. I’m not much of a mango myself, but I couldn’t help imagine if we all dropped our hard exteriors for three minutes and forty-two seconds, and danced a silly, folksy little dance together, bouncing to the jazzy beats of Hard Line. Throwing our inhibitions to the wind, and our heads back in laughter – and dancing like fools.
I smiled to myself and put my hands back in my pockets.
And the date? A disaster.
I was on my way to meet a man for a date in Copenhagen. We had met weeks before at a Copenhagen vegetarian meet-up, he asked me to go to an economics talk and veggie restaurant. I said ok.
There I was. A bit nervous… and in love with this song. I have many days where I am just bubbling over with excitement – in awe of how fantastic life is, how much is possible, how crazy it all is. I was in this mood then, and Jill Barber was my sound track. I wanted to share it with someone. To dance! But Sweden, of all places, is not the location for impromptu dance parties. A culture known for it’s quiet reservation; famous for its highly efficient queuing system. Someone once described Swedes to me as coconuts. Americans are mangos they said – soft and easy to get at on the outside, with a tough interior. Swedes are the opposite – tough to crack, but once you’re in, you’re in.
I was standing on the train platform with a bunch of coconuts. I’m not much of a mango myself, but I couldn’t help imagine if we all dropped our hard exteriors for three minutes and forty-two seconds, and danced a silly, folksy little dance together, bouncing to the jazzy beats of Hard Line. Throwing our inhibitions to the wind, and our heads back in laughter – and dancing like fools.
I smiled to myself and put my hands back in my pockets.
And the date? A disaster.
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