Truly a Weekend of Frills

This weekend has been more wonderful than I could ever describe. It started with a sleepover with one pf my very best friends, whom I later on dressed up as a girl. The next day the fun continued with a big Lolita picnic and a trip to Stockholm's biggest themepark, Gröna Lund where my sister and I ran around and rode the Merry-go-Round and many other things while the others took pictures, mingled and ate a lot of sweets. It rained a little during our picnic but fortunately the weather cleared up later in the evening. And as if that was not even enough, two of my friends stayed at my house that weekend and we had a very cozy movie night before going out on the town on sunday.

Also, as I do not belive I have mentioned this, a very nice girl, known as Treeworshipper on DeviantART, came to Sweden this weekend and we spent quite a lot of time together on both saturday and sunday. She and her friend even came with us to Hanna's abode to watch Nana on sunday night. Unfortunately, all good things must have an end and so we said goodbye to them on the way home and then I was forced to say even more goodbyes the next day since both Evelina and Cissi had to go home again.

Oh well, no need to dwell in the past. I had a wonderful time and I will leave it at that.

Photographs from Sunday~

Hanna~

My favorite dress~

She looks so good in brown~

Cissi~

Evelina~

Photographs from the Saturday Picnic are to follow.

My sister and I~

Gorgeous people~

Yarr! There be pirates!

So sweet~

So cute~

He makes such a good girl~

Little ol' me~

All of the photos are in a slightly tumbled order since Blogger does not like me. But please, bear with it. From now on Sunday comes before Saturday!

I feel like I am falling apart again....

I need someone - anyone, to talk to. Not necessarily about what has bothering me... I just do not want to be alone at the moment.

A day of Red White and Blue

These photographs were taken on May 17, 2009, when a friend and I participated in the parade going through Stockholm to celebrate the norwegian National Day.

This is for you, granma~

My Grandmother came to Sweden as a girl to work in the household of my Grandfather's family. She was but a simple Norwegian lass who eventually ended up marrying into the swedish family for which she worked. I am truly happy that she did. She was the most wonderful Grandmother you could ever wish for. Unfortunately, life did not treat her well. I have never met my Grandfather, as he died when I was very young, but I have heard stories of him and I am sorry for what he put her through. He was a cheap old bastard from what I can tell. However, despite of that, despite of all the hard work she was forced to endure without a single reward, my Grandmother still found the strength to smile and bake cookies when her grandchildren came to visit.

I know you did not even recognize me the last time we saw eachother, Mormor, but I love you nonetheless. And I miss you.

xxx

Kamalia

Dedicated to Norwegians all over the World

Norway won the Eurovision Song Contest! On May 17 too! How that happened I have no idea, but congratulations anyway.


xxx

Kamalia

Mother Dearest

I hate you, you infernal woman! No matter how many tears you fake or how many diseases you claim to have I will NOT pity you! The entire world does not revolve around you, so just because I say "No" or "Stop" it is not a personal attack against you. It means that I am not the least bit amused by whatever it is that you are doing and that I want you to stop! It is that simple. Stop letting it go to your head and think about everyone else's feelings for once instead of just your own!


Sorry about that... I'm not in a very good place right now.


xxx
Kamalia

Lost Between Centuries

The artist is the creator of beautiful things.

To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.

The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

The highest, as the lowest, form of criticism is a mode of autobiography.

Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are cultivated. For these there is hope.

They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.

Books are well written or badly written. That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of Romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.

The moral life of a man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of the art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.

No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style.

No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.

Vice and vitrue are to the artist materials for an art.

From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type.

All art is at once surface and symbol.

Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.

Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.

It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.

Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.

When critics disagree the artist is in accord with himself.

We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensly.

All art is quite useless.

The Preface,

The Picture of Dorian Gray

~Oscar Wilde


xxx

Kamalia

Frills are a Girl's Best Friends

'Tis true.

If you expected any deep words to accompany these pictures you shall be highly disappointed. My fatigue prevents me from writing anything more than a couple of words at a time.

xxx

Kamalia

Two days of Hats

I have always been very fond of hats, in every shape or form. Big or small, extravagant or simple. They all have a special place in my heart. And in the last two or three days Hats, or Mini hats to be exact, have been constantly on my mind. Considering how much I love these hats I would certainly never say no to aquiring another one and so, when my friend and I started talking about minihats last... sunday I believ it was, I was immediately ensnared by the idea of making my own miniature headwear and decorate them as I wish. And that is where it all started...

Believe me when I say that I had never, EVER, tried anthing of the sort before and so I was pleasantly surprised to see how well my very first hat turned out. Is it not strange how a little fabric, some cardboard, a piece of metal wire and some glue can be put together to create such a beautiful thing? Not to mention the many yards of white satin ribbon, the soft feathers and the beautiful roses I used as decorations.

So low and behold; my very first attempt at the creation of hats:

I simply adored how it turned out in the end and that high has lingered in the last two days. Yesterday it was even so strong that I could not help but attempt to make yet another hat. Of course, this time I has company in the shape of my dear friend Emmelie and together we sat for hours until we finally were satisfied with the results. Unfortunately, I only have a photograph of the hat I made so you shall all have to settle with that one alone.

Is is not gorgeous?

And yes, I shall stop praising myself. For now anyway.

A question of Sweet versus Gothic~

Upon uploading a the pictures from my previous post, on a site whose name I shall not mention, I, or rather my friend who did the uploading, was met with a particularly odd comment. A girl whom I have never talked to, or even heard off before, claimed that I looked much too sweet to wear an outfit that was completely black. I, who have been fond of all things gothic for several years, was very surprised to hear such a thing and I found myself wondering if there was any truth in that statement. Am I really too sweet to wear gothic clothing? Or does dark colors suit me better? Or is it something in between that is the most appropriate for my pale complexion and red hair? Which Lolita genre suits me best: Sweet, Classic or Gothic?

Personally, vain and egocentric as I am, I believe that I have the ability to pull of all of the different categories. However, I would very much like to know the opinions of all of my little minions, and the rest of you who read my entries. Therefore, I shall ask you all to vote for whichever genre you think is the most appropriate for me in the poll to the right.

And for you who have a hard time distinguishing between the different genres I here have added three pictures that represent each and every one of them. Or at least they represent the way I look upon Sweet, Classic and Gothic Lolita.

Sweet~
Not very close to the extreme, but sweet enough for me.

Classic~
Perhaps not as classic as I could be, but it it the closest I have gotten in a photograph.

Gothic~
As dark as I get.

Singing in the Streets

The spring season has finally reached the forgotten little country called Sweden and we have been overcome by the will to dress up in our frilly dresses and go out on the town. As such, photographs are to become a common occurance here for the next few months and so I shall have to beg your indulgance. Hopefully you will not find it as boring as I might suspect.

On a lighter note... When these pictures were taken, yesterday to be exact, my friend and I ran into the most charming fellow. It was an Australian gentleman who sat by the gargoyle fountain on Stor Torget in Gamla Stan. He had a guitar in his lap and was playing and singing to a lot of known, and unknown, songs. He happened to be much more talented, and more handsome, than most street musicians we had ever seen so we spent quite a lot of time talking to him, not to mention singing along to his music.

Unfortunately, I have yet gotten my hands on a photograph of all of us together so that shall have to wait. But, considering the fact that he claimed to sit there and sing quite often, I have no doubt that we will see him again. I am looking forward to it.

In a field of little white flowers~

Teaparties among the spring flowers are a pleasant, but rare occurance in the everyday life we all live. Strolls in the countryside and sweet conversations in the shade of an oak tree are much too uncommon and I hope to remedy that this fateful summer. Truly, there is nothing more calming than a cup of tea and the fragrance of wild flowers brought to you by the gentle breeze.

I shall only hope that the weather holds...