Alive and Flapping

As I predicted, it's been rather quiet here for a couple of months. With the third SHS party only a few weeks away, it's time to get back in the blogging business - and what better way to do it than by looking at some lovely ladies from the 1920s. 

Louise Brooks (above, click to enlarge) is by far one of my favourites flappers; there is something very elegant and at the same time something very outrageous about her. 

I don't know all that much about Evelyn Brent, but I like her hat, and her haughty expression. Wikipedia tells me that Brent was at one time married to Harry Fox, who gave his name to foxtrot. Live and learn. 

Norma Talmadge was a superstar of the silent film era. I love her dress and the pearls. 

I don't know who this girl is, but there is something captivating about the simple elegance of the photograph. Makes me wish I had shorter hair so that I could try to duplicate that do.

Mary Eaton was a popular dancer and actress, who appeared alongside the Marx Brothers in The Cocoanuts...

 ...as did the Brox Sisters.

Fanny Brice was a comedienne, and later an inspiration for Funny Girl.

Karla Gutchrlein was one half of the Sisters G - and incredibly cool. 

Josephine Baker didn't believe in wearing very much, but she also lived a fascinating life. Bring on the banana miniskirt!

And finally, a reminder that although not all 20s women were young and glamorous, they sure knew how to have a good time. If I didn't already have suitably jazzy shoes for our speakeasy party, I'd be seriously considering a pair of boots big enough to slip a bottle of whisky in.

(Source: All pictures are from Wikimedia Commons)

Hiatus, and a Hat

It's been rather quiet here recently, and probably will be rather quiet for some time yet - at least until I've ploughed through the pile of work I'm under right now, and had a proper holiday. 

But until then, you can admire my new spring hat, which I trimmed yesterday and am rather proud of. The hat itself cost 2 euros, and was much uglier with a wide, turn-up rim. So I took my scissors, some ribbon I've had in my cupboard for about ten years now, and a few bits and bobs I've been saving for a project like this - and voilá: a 20's style cloche hat. 

I know Bessie Smith preferred much more outrageous headwear (notably the one which looks like a lampshade), but as she's my favourite 20's blues singer, I'll let her accompany my new hat. 

Sunfaraa!

As I mentioned in my last post, my second trip to Kokkola was done with a specific goal in mind: in addition to finishing the literature course I'd started in December, I was on a mission to locate an English rowboat. 

And not just any old rowboat: the one the good people of Kokkola captured from the Royal Navy in 1854 (in a battle known as the Skirmish of Halkokari), and haven't given back to the Brits despite several kind requests.  It's very easy to miss in its little anonymous, snow-surrounded cottage at the edge of the English Park - and it's not all that impressive as far as trophies of war go. But there it is.

The city was lovely this time around as well, despite the skull-cracking ice and the persistent rain. This gave me a good opportunity to visit several museums and art galleries, - including one situated in Pedagogio, the oldest non-religious building in Finland (in the top picture) - and to see an impressive collection of minerals and stuffed animals (not my cup of tea, really -  but hey, it was free and extremely educational).

I also noticed that I'm turning into a stereotypical academic tourist - one who likes to look at obscure paintings and visit one old house after another, all the while trying to think of something clever to say to the curator on the way out.  Then, once I'm home, I can deftly deconstruct my experiences with a hint of postmodern cynicism. 

Which might be the only use I'll ever have for my degree in Contemporary Culture.  

The wonders of the west coast

It's been a busy past few weeks. In addition to trying to finish my PhD, I've also been teaching a couple of courses - one of them some 400 kms from where I live. It was great fun, though, to get an opportunity to take a train to a completely unknown city, stay the night at a fine hotel, talk about literature to  bunch of motivated students, and spend the rest of the time walking around the old part of the city with my mouth hanging slightly open. I hadn't quite realised the Neristan in  Kokkola was quite as amazing as that.

Unfortunately, my camera froze on me (again), so I got very few pictures that are actually in focus. Perhaps better this way - otherwise I would have snapped photos of each and every house and perhaps embarrassed myself in the process. 

Looking forward to going back in January. Then I'm planning to finally lay eyes on the famous gunboat which was captured from the British during the Crimean war, and which the brits have been very eager to get back ever since.  SHS is already planning a re-enactment of the impressive battle in which such a prize landed in Finnish hands.

Getting rather silly

Today the sun manages to stay over the horizon for seven hours and a bit. Despite the snow, days are desperately grey, and everything kind of blurs. It's hard to keep track of deadlines, or even remember if I've managed to do anything worthwhile lately.

In addition to teaching and trying to finish my PhD there isn't all that much going on at the moment - but at least I've had some interesting dreams lately (even compared to my usual standard). Last night, for instance, listening to the constant drip-drop of water outside my window, I finally managed to fall asleep and grew convinced that there was only one person who could explain the meaning and the source of the noise: Samuel Pepys.

I believe this history lark is really beginning to mess with my head. In the nicest possible way. Just like this song.

That is all.

Pretty dreary

Today seems to be one of those days when everything is sort of sticky and slow right from the beginning.  One of those days when you know that no matter hard you try - and in truth you don't try very hard - everything's going to conspire against you having a productive day. 

The weather is grey and uninspiring. The computer is slow. Just when you get in the right mood for some work (writing a thesis in my case), someone calls you, and BAM, the thread of your thoughts is tangled again. In the supermarket everyone moves just as slowly and aimlessly as you do, not looking anyone in the eye, blocking the aisles with their slow trolleys. You pick the slowest queue in the whole darn shop - possibly in the whole universe - and wish you had the presence of mind to open the bag of sweets you're buying, before you've paid for it. 

On most days, if things start piling upon me like this, I just get pointlessly angry. Today, as befits a slow and sticky day, I've just been drifting around in a half-awake haze, hoping that the aforementioned bag of sweets might brighten things up a bit. 

And it has. The best part of the day is already hopelessly wasted, but at least now I'm fully awake.  The other thing which contributed to my newfound alertness was this startling piece of poetry: 

Right on.

Treasure

As is my habit, I spent last weekend in Helsinki, watching films and catching up with friends I see far too seldom. What made this year's gathering a bit different, however, was that the person responsible for it all was getting married on that same weekend. Thus there were only two films (but what films!), and considerably more voluntary work involved - which suited me just fine, as over the years I've been getting quite good at handling ridiculous amounts of food, fetching and carrying, and just generally trying to guarantee a pleasant time for all. 

During my career as a party organiser/cook/fetchercarrier/Ms Fixit, I've come to the conclusion that the trite sentiment of "giving is better than receiving" works pretty well in practice, too. Even better than giving things, however, is giving time: helping out with things that require more than one pair of hands and more than five minutes of your day - doing instead of buying, being there when someone really needs you, and not just in a mental sense. Even for such a non-sociable person as myself, building up a party from scratch can be great fun if you're working with like-minded people and know that in the end, you'll be enjoying the fruits of your labours with those very same people.

Don't get me wrong: giving and receiving things is also very nice, too. Especially when that thing happens to be handmade Belgian pralines, delivered straight to my door. That's what, dear reader, I got for my trouble this time.

The moral of the story: help thy friends, and thou shalt receive chocolate.