someday tomorrow
There’s past, present and future. And then there’s also someday. I dare to say that the distance between you and “someday” always remains the same, so it’s a safe zone to keep wobbly promises and visions you don’t really believe in. Unfortunately it’s also a place, where I keep my dreams that don’t have enough space elsewhere. But you know what happens with tomatoes forgotten in the depth of a fridge. They quietly go ketchup.
These wishes have nothing to do with climbing Mount Everest or finding cure for cancer. I’m not even sure, if I want to have sex on a plane. Things on my “someday” list simply require time, money, certain geographic location or all of above. Since none of them is urgent, they never make it to the priority top 3. Someday I’ll take a wine course. I’ll do painting again. Someday (or rather night) I’ll take a taxi in Buenos Aires and go to a milonga cafe. I’ll bake gingerbread men for Christmas and draw sugar skeletons on them. I’ll go to see Jens Lekman live in Gothenburg. Someday I’ll get myself a bunny. Most definitely I’ll learn how to cook Palak Paneer.
Then all of a sudden I found this all pathetic. If you want something and don’t do anything to get it, you don’t want it bad enough. So I signed up for tango classes. To be continued. And not postponed.
Yours truly,
Zane
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Tags: new year, story, tango, to-do
dear santa
I don’t know who are those people who stage plays for family get-together and walk dogs from animal shelters. For people around me Christmas is all about eating and sleeping. And we’re far from being low class heros with excess fat and television set as the centre of the universe. The end of the year seems like a long-awaited weekend you can spend doing nothing, and do that together with your loved ones. And you know what? I don’t even want to stage a play or walk a dog.
Now when I’ve just made a spinach risotto and poured a glass of red, I’m in a mood for writing. Especially after having a year like this. It all started in a messy apartment in Prague, and it didn’t seem promising at all. After spending pathetic Christmas in Berlin, I decided to fight my loneliness by going on a spiritual journey to Prague, where bunch of Buddhists were organizing a 4-day retreat. Fail. The closer it got to its end, the more I got impression we’re all about to have a massive gang bang. That’s when I dropped the idea of enlightenment and decided to celebrate the New Year alone. I got myself a bottle of cheap Czech sparkling in a little Korean corner shop, where at 11:30 PM you could still buy pretty much everything (probably including organs for transplantation). When I got back to the friend’s apartment ready to wrap myself into a blanket of misery, it turned out I’m not alone there. 2011 began with a charming shrink who I met for the first and probably the last time in my life…
Little did I know how much this year was going to bring. Maybe it’s a good thing to start a year at your lowest, cause it’s less likely to get any worse. It brought amazing adventures, challenges and people I would never want to forget. From New York to Ystad I worked on projects that got me deeper and deeper into production madness. In concert halls, pubs and green meadows I saw shows that inspired not only my hips, but also my heart. I became an aunt of a hero, who’s just 2 months old, but already has 2 teeth. I fell in and out of love with Berlin. In-between of it all I graduated. My “Beautiful Sunrise Collection” got a whole new edition of Riga mornings. I managed to break few hearts and got mine cracked a bit as well. And, fuck it, I bought lots and lots of shoes, which definitely is a sign of a good year! But above it all I was inspired by so many people this year. Like a stalker with mustache I’ve been watching them and thinking how beautiful they are with their passions, dreams, with their strengths and weaknesses, flaws and bad hair days. So if you’re reading this, my 2011 is also a story about you.
And if all this is not enough to legally do nothing more than eating and sleeping at Christmas time, I promise to climb a mountain next year. Even though I know already, that 2012 will bring several mountains saying “CLIMB ME!”.
Very merry, my friends!
Yours truly,
Zane
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Tags: 2011, christmas, food, sleep, story
post-beauty
We’ve become so post-modern, so post-ironic and so… post-beautiful. Is there even such thing as beauty these days or everything is just a quotation from the past? Has “been there, done that” become a tagline of the 21st century? I’ve been failing to figure out the image of a modern beauty. A while ago I realized the amount of beauty quotes we’re having in our lives, and that the constant reflection of the past is enormous. Seems that every new fashion collection is a tribute to something already experienced and every new icon is just a compilation of past beauties.
I believe it all started with Anna Calvi playing live. Few days before the gig I was sitting in a cafe waiting for a meeting and read an article on her in a local fashion magazine. Lagerfeld’s muse, modern PJ Harvey, diva with bloodred lips and cheeckbones from the 40s. When we finally saw her live, she took our breaths away with her guitar and la femme fatale appearance. I was in love with Anna’s high-heels, a friend standing next to me pointed out her Dietrich’s “cruel bitch profile”, but a collegue I met after the gig mentioned similarities with a flamenco dancer. After the show we went for some drinks to a place that’s a total wannabe French pastiche – black&white floor tiles, old suitcases and vintage Chanel. You’re sitting next to a poster of Twiggy and wash your hands in the bathroom looking at Audrey Hepburn. It really makes you wonder, has the beauty become vintage? I had a quick ginger drink with few friends and went home to sleep, since I had to work the next day. What was my current project? Few television clips with a character from the 50s…
Don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing bad about quoting brilliance. I’m just curious, who’s gonna be looking down on our kids, when they go out for a drink 20 years from now. As a true admirerer of femininity, I’d rather see them chewing on Marilyn for another few decades rather than quoting the modern male model Andrej Pejic -
Yours truly,
Zane
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Tags: anna calvi, beauty, fashion, icons, music
mise-en-scène
“Tea is for reading, wine is for writing” came as a revelation last night, when a glass of rosé (way too girly, I know) reminded that I actually have a blog. No wonder the times of my best letters and folders full of story ideas match with the times, that I’ve spent in wine making regions or simply lived next door to a drink store. Unfortunately it’s a thin line. A glass can put me in the mood, two – to bed. And that’s exactly what happened last night.
Not only it reminded me of Lipstick Irony, but also highlighted my obsession with finding perfect combinations and matches made in heaven. Maybe I’m a bit of a nutcase, since creating mood is part of my work, and mise-en-scène is my favorite playground. But also in real life it takes me ages to pick the song to listen in the car, and usually I reach the destination before the right soundtrack is found. I’ve given up on trying to explain people, how reading in a bathtub depends on the relation between your book and the scent of the shower gel. Probably there’s something very wrong about looking for the right, but I associate the absolute happiness with a perfect combination of elements given. You can slightly change just one and the whole mood turns upside down.
Whenever I experience a moment or mood to remember, I add it to my non-existant mise-en-scène collection. It’s amazing, how many quirky and often ironic situations there are. For the last few evenings I’ve been going through the same department store shortly before its closing time, and it’s always the same song playing. Whoever made the playlist could not imagine the effect Air – Empty House would have in a late hour with last minute shoppers and tired sales assistants preparing to close. All of a sudden the looks in people’s eyes seem different, movements and lighting look staged. Call me insane, but it’s brilliant! Something extremely sad and apocalyptic. Something that reminds me why I spend ages looking for the perfect song or pay attention to the angles. Cause it’s all about the interaction of elements and the new meaning they create. And it’s beautiful.
Yours truly,
Zane
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Tags: mise-en-scène, mood, music, story
napoleon split
I’ve always been a little Napoleon. Victories had to come fast, and preferably followed by glory and champagne. If things didn’t happen right away, I’d go and look somewhere else. That one time I went to see a shrink, he told me that I’m adrenaline junkie and eventually will run out of challenges. Probably he was right, ’cause going to see him again didn’t seem challenging enough.
Ever since I started doing yoga (and I’m still an absolute beginner), I was curious to see, if it brings any change to my life. I’m not talking about tighter ass or stories overheard in sauna. I’m talking about the stereotype that involves stoned-looking people, Ghee butter and yoga mats. With my usual irony I was skeptical about any major change on a mental level. Could a posture or two affect my thinking? Oh, please… But then I tore a hole in my pants.
I was trying to do a split or Hanumanasana, when suddenly my leg started sliding back and got off the mat. There must have been a splinter on the wooden floor, which made a small hole in my pants right beneath the knee. Nothing major, to be frank. Nothing to write a blog post about. What amazed me was the thinking it provoked. I had heard people saying that at some point you start applying your yoga experiences to your life in general. But I never thought this would happen through a hole in my pants. It made me think of how impatient I am, how eager to see the result immediately. I’ve dropped so many things in my life, changed so many places and hurt so many people by doing that. It took me years to get to that yoga class and realize that good things can also come slowly, with lots of patience and practice. And if you’re a stubborn adrenaline junkie, it’s probably the least harmful way to learn it. This of course doesn’t mean I’ve given up on getting a perfect split. I’m just giving it a bit more time.
Yours truly,
Zane
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Tags: story, yoga
press “on”
A while ago my boss asked me, if I happen to have a cigarette. When I told him I don’t and started explaining my on/off relationship with smoking, he laughed and said there’s no such thing – once you’re on, you can’t go off. Maybe that’s how it works in men’s world. If you’re an emotional chick with freckles and occasional mental breakdown, you surely know what on/off means. In fact there’s a whole list I could name, starting with smoking and coffee and ending up with sports and… blogging.
Why now? Because I’m sitting with a towel around my head trying to dye my hair. Because there’s a glass of wine right next to me, and I haven’t had a sip for at least two months. Because tomorrow is a project proposal deadline, but all I’ve been doing so far would make a professional procrastinator cry. And because my birthday’s in few days and I have absolutely no f*cking clue, what my life brings in the next year. If all this is not enough to create a blog, I simply got lucky with the name. We’re 7 billion now, and not only it means less food, but also a smaller chance to get a decent blog name. When I randomly typed “Lipstick Irony”, there it was – the little, green tick standing for “bingo”. If I had to think of two things I wear the most, those definitely would be the ones in the title.
Yours truly,
Zane
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Yours truly,
Zane
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