Stockholm

I visited Stockholm, Sweden back in April. I don't have much to say about my time there really, except it is a charming and elegant little city. Here are some pictures.

Duty-Free Diva

One of the perils of global work and travel is the duty-free shopping extravaganza found in most European airports. I consider this to be a top hazard of my job.

I recently had to call my mother from the airport in Palma, Spain after a two-day client meeting becuase I had lost control at the Chanel counter and needed an intervention. And I’m not talking about buying makeup that I absolutely don’t need (although I did that) — it’s the sampling. I get so excited by makeup counters and the possibilities of what they will do for me that I almost black out. And this time, when I came to, I had one hand with 3 different shades of black nail polish on three different fingers, one silver finger, and a pink finger. I also had two different colour palettes on each eye and some blue mascara. There were traces of sugary pink lipgloss. Oh, and some bronzer as well, making me a nice shade of shimmery orange (well what do you expect, I might have been in Spain, but I certainly didn’t get any sun sitting in a dark conference room for two days!) There was a nice sales lady standing next to me who seemed slightly befuddled by my frenzy. Fearing what she may have witnessed in that unaccounted-for time (like when aliens kidnap and experiment on you), I grabbed what she had taken from the drawer and got myself to check-out. That’s when I called my mom.

Though I am usually armed for these attacks with makeup remover wipes in my handbag (I highly recommend “Simple” brand cleansing facial wipes sold at most drugstores in the UK), they were making the last call for my flight and there was no time to undo this potential disaster before boarding. Then, to my horror, as I was waiting in line to get on the plane, one of my (very senior) clients who I didn’t know very well tapped me on the shoulder…he was on the same flight. I ditched my mobile phone (and my mother on the other end of the line, sorry mom) and stuffed my hands into my pockets. Oh crap, I didn’t have pockets, so I folded them awkwardly behind my back. I made the conversation as quick as I could without looking him directly in the eye (never good for a PR person) and then, keeping my head down, slunk onto the plane and into my seat. I took out my compact mirror to assess the damage - I looked like a cast member from Cirque du Soleil.

But the duty-free debacle doesn’t stop with makeup. There’s perfume, pink champagne, fine whisky from Scotland, local souvenirs, watches, crazy clothes and fashion, exotic foodstuffs, sunglasses, Swarvoski and Baccarat crystal, handbags, books, cheese, Haribo gummies, technology and gadgets…all the things in the world that I love and hold dear. Or, did I love them until I started travelling so much? I’m not sure. All I know is that the sales staff at Ted Baker at Heathrow Terminal 4 know me by name.

This all leads me to ponder — What is it about aiports and travel that make people feel so indulgent? For me, it’s usually an excuse like: I work so hard, I’m stressed, I had a rough day, I DESERVE it, I NEED it….or in the case of the cute alligator beany baby I picked up at JFK….I’m lonely and will need a cuddle on the long flight back (I don’t know what’s wrong with people, they act like they’ve never seen a grown woman dressed in business attire clutching a beany baby to her chest in one hand and a Louis Vuitton shopper in the other!)

As a marketing person, I see airports as communities and duty-free as a lifestyle. And the pairing of the two is genius when it comes to traveller purchasing decisions. Because for avid duty-free shoppers like myself, it’s usually NOT about saving money — it’s about comfort, validation, convenience, feeling glam, and the suspension of reason you’d normally have when shopping anywhere else. Because when you’re in an airport, you’re likely feeling a heightened emotion of some sort — happiness, nervousness, boredom, stress, exhaustion, accomplishment, excitement, sadness, anxiety, hopfefulness, depression — and there is always something to buy to complement or offset any of those feelings….that’s the magic of being captive in a place where instant gratification can be found in so many forms — for a price, of course.

Room 320

I was in Hamburg, Germany for a meeting today and stayed at a rather inspiring and unique little hotel. The Hotel Wedina is located on a quiet street in Hamburg and is billed as being for “poets, thinkers and hotel guests.” I worry I may only have been allowed in for being the latter.

Comprised of a few different buildings, we stayed in the “Blue House,” which is described on the website as “urban style.” While my colleagues Christina and Heidi found themselves in neat but tiny rooms, I hit the jackpot with room 320 – a four-level suite with hardwood flooring, minimalist furnishings, a small kitchenette, lots of windows and a nice terrace (shared with some other rooms) — all overlooking a pretty and tranquil courtyard.

Upon entering, I was actually struck with the urge to sit down and write — seriously. Their motif works – I felt like I could do serious work and concentrate in the space — it was so open and bright and…..attractively blank. But we arrived after midnight, so needless to say, no brilliant work was done at the hotel. I was too exhausted to even read, actually. Anyway, I think I need a flat with the same design back here in London. I am way affected by my surroundings when trying to work. Some people call this OCD.

The hotel is a supporter of the Hamburg literary scene and often provides rooms free of charge to writers visiting the nearby Literaturhaus for readings and book launches. The rooms are chic and minimalist, with plenty of light, drop down desks and comfortable beds with fluffy duvets and reading lamps. The bathrooms are nicely outfitted with modern fixtures and terrycloth curtains. The staff is friendly and welcoming and there is a nice complimentary beakfast served, which can be taken out in a sweet little garden off the main building. Oh, you can also borrow a bike if you’d like a nice day out. It was a good night sleep for all of us. And best yet, the prices won’t break the bank if you're not expensing it.

Check it out at www.wedina.de. And if you go, be sure to ask for room 320 in the Blue House — you might just be inspired to start that novel.

Fortress

Green fields in a muggy summer haze
a long dirt road
young wheat the color of lavender
(was it purple before?)
I must not have seen it in spring

The pear tree’s gone, the apple tree too
I miss the honeysuckles and blackberries
and the thrill of the warning of snakes
that patio we’d run to soaking wet
and lay face down
leaving perfect prints of bodies that made us laugh

A 17-year fortress with 17 more of returns
so much I love
a bit I hate
its pretty
conflicted feelings about this place
and the people I love

I return and find myself vulnerable again
to the old things that brought comfort and fear
not within my control
sitting in a field under a private blue sky
with clouds rolling by as quickly as life
taking no notice of what’s below

But those stars at night
still the center of my universe
crickets and fireflies most adored
the place I get answers to questions not asked

When I return again that wheat will be gold
the cycle I depend on
that pulls me back
and keeps me same