Alan Hranitelj – "The Dandy"

Alan Hranitelj was my first ever favorite designer when I was a child. It's difficult to describe his iconic status in the Slovenian cultural scene -- although he's generally perceived as a fashion designer, (1) he doesn't do collections, (2) his clothes cannot be bought anywhere and (3) he's essentially anti-fashion. He mainly designs costumes for theatre and film and occasionally puts up an exhibition that will remain the talk of the town for at least one year (the last one was Jesen, zima 2008/09, ice sculptures made of everything but ice). He's currently working with Cirque du Soleil in Canada and China.

Alan was born in Zagreb, Croatia and moved to Ljubljana when he was 16, abandoning formal design education to dedicate himself fully to his work. At 23 they invited him to Milan, but he only stayed until the end of the contract. Although I often hang around the part of Ljubljana he frequents the most, I've only seen him once in my entire life. My friend N. has more luck and always sends me a text message "Just saw THE Dandy!" after a sighting ("The Dandy" being the original nickname she invented for him, we don't translate it). If I could have a dress custom made by any designer in the world, it would probably be him.

These photos are from his 2006 monography "Kostumografija" (Costume Design). It's one of my all-time favorite books even though there isn't much text -- sometimes you don't need words to create a story. How interesting would it be to live in his head?

(To view the photos in their original size, right click → View Image)



"The Useful Madness", Hyper Hall' 96 exhibition in Copenhagen, 1996



"Psyche", Slovensko mladinsko gledališče, 1993


Hat for the exhibition "A Handbag & 12 Hats", Gallery Equrna, 1993



(my favorite)


"The Bald Soprano", SNG Drama Maribor, 2004

Fashion show, Barcelona, 1987

Solo exhibition, Museum of Modern Art Ljubljana, 1991

"Psyche", Slovensko mladinsko gledališče, 1993

Alan Hranitelj by Hermetica. Fashion show, Milan, 1991

"A Handbag & 12 Hats", solo exhibition, Gallery Equrna, Ljubljana, 1993

"Alice in Wonderland", Slovensko mladinsko gledališče, 1994

"Capek and Klara", Lutkovno gledališče Ljubljana, 1995

Hyper Hall' 96, exhibition, Copenhagen, 1996

"Pippi Longstocking", Slovensko mladinsko gledališče, 1998


"Trade Fair Aluminium", Essen, dress-structure, commissioned by Impol d.d., 1998


"Pygmalion", Mestno gledališče ljubljansko, 1999


"Stones Would Catch Fire", SNG Drama Ljubljana, 2000






Fashion show, Millenium Dome, London, 2000


"Mnemosyne", Gledališče Glej, 2005


"Love and Solitude", HNK Ivana pl. Zajca, Rijeka, 2005

"I was always told not to settle. Therefore, I will probably die alone."

blouse Mojca Makuc, shoes Emporio Armani, pants R Exclusive
I'm loving the asymmetrical collar of this blouse. Finally something nice I can wear to university too -- I'm still finding my balance ("Do I want to completely destroy a piece by wearing it from 8 AM to PM in the cold, rain, on the bus, in class where there's very little space etc.?"). The shoes were designed by my friend in Milan -- she appropriately calls them "disco shoes".

---

I've decided that I want to go to NYC in spring and therefore have to save a ton of money. But I probably won't go anyway as finding company for flying over the pond for a couple of days just to hang around is one of the hardest things I can think of due to time and money issues and I refuse to go alone because I'm so sick of traveling by myself I cannot even begin to describe it. It's basically all I did this year and finally the point has come when I've had enough although I never imagined it actually happening since I like being alone very much. I don't know the cause of it, but the effect is obvious. Anyone ever had a similar experience?

New moleskine

Stamp: custom made in 2 minutes in a tiny shop in Dorsoduro, Venice (on the way to The Peggy Guggenheim Collection) last year.

On Fashion, part II

Devil Wears Prada

on fashion, part II

V. fashion as a form of communication
I think the core reason I started paying attention to what I wore in my early teens was a subconscious need to connect to others. I'm very shy and I can never talk to all the people I want to talk to, so I started putting together more unusual and thought-out outfits in hopes that someone will find them interesting and approach me. Even though this "method" often works well, people's interpretations of myself and what I wore sometimes differ from what I intended, but that's normal and inspires me to reconsider other aspects of successful communication (the ones you'd normally think of before clothes).

VI. garment as a piece of art
Buying a piece and letting it rest in your closet for a while in order to "warm up" to it versus buying a piece without the actual intention of ever wearing it (thus treating it like a sculpture or a painting).

When I bought my first piece (a black silk blouse) by my favorite Japanese designer a few years ago, I didn't wear it for 8 months out of some crazy respect towards (everything behind) it and because I thought my then-character wasn't yet able to support such a piece; at the same time, however, I knew that one day it definitely would be. Although this was the closest I ever got to purchasing something just to have it near me, I understand the principles behind sticking to everlasting admiration without one's further involvement and somehow I'm almost sure that at some point such a story is bound to happen to me too.


To be continued.

→ On Fashion, part I

Serija "Život iz kofera", epizoda "Milano"

10 Corso Como aka my favorite concept store and all-around Heaven
The last weekend that I spent with my parents and friends in Milan made me realize how awfully uninspiring one-language environments are compared to the opposite. In order to communicate effectively with everyone around me in Milan, I have to keep switching between Slovenian, Croatian/Serbian, English and Italian all the time and I don't know why, but I find such situations much more comfortable than having to limit myself to a single language. For me, being in Milan is like living in a linguistic fairy tale and when I return to my "normal life" in Ljubljana where I only speak Slovenian with an occasional bit of Croatian/Serbian, it all becomes a little boring.

Apart from eating well (and in large quantities) all weekend, we saw two exhibitions at Palazzo Reale (and two at the Triennale, but those didn't really speak to me):


Bridal kimono detail. Via antichikimono.com.
Shunga: Japanese erotic prints from the Edo period that I didn't care about much -- instead I kept returning to a beautiful white bridal kimono embellished with bright, colorful details. The kimonos (from Taisho, Meiji and Showa periods) were borrowed from the Gloria Gobbi collection in Rome, making this city rise significantly on my "to visit in near future" list (to see the entire kimono collection, but also because Rome is an amazing place to be in in general).


Edward Hopper: The Wine Shop
Edward Hopper: This exhibition felt like a series of flashbacks on my life: Stairway at 48 rue de Lille, Paris reminded me of a certain Vienna pension in Graben, Parisian Woman Walking looks more like a woman hailing a cab in Manhattan mid-afternoon, The Wine Shop resembles the Croatian/Italian coast off-season so much I can almost feel the emptiness in the air and Hopper's train stations are the same as those in Northern Serbia. Most American painters are too American for me, but it surprised me how much Hopper's (not in the least un-American) aesthetic is similar to mine (i.e. what I'm used to).


View inside 10 Corso Como

Our trip wouldn't be complete without a venture into 10 Corso Como, my favorite concept store and all-around (fashion/lifestyle) heaven. I really appreciate this place although it's so much "a world of its own" that I can never connect to it 100%; it's almost as if there are too many beautiful items, everything is special and I get lost not knowing where to begin. We saw some strange contemporary photography in the gallery and went to the rooftop while the sun was going down and it became cold. Somehow Milan is always like that.


Installation on Via Montenapoleone
Honorable mentions: The Duomo being the first thing I saw coming out of the subway. Olivera Katarina in the car. Getting Orhan Pamuk's The Museum of Innocence that I wanted to buy in Belgrade but then forgot to return to the bookshop. The Saturday market in Isola. Eco installations on Via Montenapoleone. Having drinks and cannoli at the bar. The strong wind of the upcoming train. Seeing very few mindblowingly well-dressed people. That red velvet McQueen dress in the window. Feeling strange about the Sunday calmness because Sundays in Belgrade are so much different. The city not being as aggressive as I had in mind.


Near where this was taken in 2005.

P.S. Martina at The Little Fashion Treasury has recently done a post on Milan with even more beautiful photos from 10 Corso Como → check it out!

Fall Uniform

I thought starting university would mean the end to my travels, but I spent almost half of October out of the country. I've been to Venice, London, Belgrade and Milan and I'm looking forward to spending the upcoming weekend at home tremendously. In the past every trip took me days to process, but recently I just haven't had time for that resulting in learning to live without it. What I really need to process right now is stuff for university though. I can't believe it's almost November already!



boots Zara, coat R Exclusive, bag Marjeta Grošelj

This is my fall "uniform" for the occasions when I can actually dress nice (i.e. not university). I wasn't planning to get anything studded this season, but the bag sort of happened to me and so did the boots -- I found them at Zara where I don't go very often because big stores freak me out. The coat is originally supposed to close differently, this is just my way of not letting the cold in. → PIN CLOSE-UP (I "stole" it from my mom).

Rain in Belgrade

Tačno je :)
I was in Belgrade last week and it's probably my favorite city,
even moreso than NYC for it feels less sad (I wanted to say "less foreign" but the truth is that out of all my cities NYC is the one that feels the most familiar).
I won't know for sure until I've lived there though.

1.
As soon as I got out of the train station after the 10-hour journey from Ljubljana to Belgrade, I became incapable of speaking Croatian; a few years ago I spoke both Croatian and Serbian depending on where I was and who I was talking to (language-wise I tend to adapt to my surroundings), but I often mixed them up, using Serbian words in Croatian -- a practice that isn't always welcome in Croatia. As Croatian is the language I grew up with, I always knew it better than Serbian so eventually I decided to stick to it and give up the latter. In Belgrade, however, for the first time in years speaking Croatian didn't feel natural; while I was waiting for Iva to pick me up, a girl asked me if I had a lighter and I replied "Nemam", stretching the "e" in a typical Belgrade accent even though I'd only been in town for a couple of minutes.

I found myself in-between languages, speaking imperfect Serbian with Croatian influences in a soft accent (apparently reminiscent of Zagreb, people in Serbia always think I'm from Zagreb, never Slovenia, despite the fact that nobody from Zagreb would feel the need to speak Serbian instead of Croatian) -- all that after my Croatian had finally become nearly immaculate, even "elevated" (thanks to Krleža) ... Now that I've adopted Serbian patterns and formations (again) I have no idea whether I should keep using it or switch back to Croatian; my brain is confused because all I really want is to settle for one language for once -- this perpetual state of mixing them is far from practical.


Knez Mihailova
2.
When I was waiting at the train station I watched the cars and lights and life on Nemanjina Street and it reminded me of NYC (Belgrade is the only city that reminds me of NYC), but above all it was still Belgrade and I felt like I came home. It makes so much sense for me to be in Belgrade and even though sometimes I am (was?) dying because I don't live in NYC any more, it had no effect on me whatsoever when my friend went there on the same day -- there were no nostalgia attacks which did surprise me at first but then I realized I actually had no reason for drama because I was in Belgrade and the logic of it became crystal clear.

I belong to Ljubljana because it's what I'm used to, but I belong to NYC and Belgrade because it's very easy for me to be there -- I have no trouble taking public transportation or wandering around aimlessly because I know if I get lost someone will always show me the way and I have a good grasp of how these cities work in general. Out of the two, NYC feels more familiar because everything I did there I did alone, I had to "learn everything from scratch" in order to be able to function in the new environment whereas in Belgrade it was my friends who taught me its rules and secrets which made "bonding" with it much less complicated. The reason I like Belgrade more than NYC is a certain sadness of NYC that Belgrade lacks completely -- a lot of people come there in pursuit of Something Better and many of them end up dissatisfied because things didn't turn out the way they hoped. I could sense it everywhere and it was the only thing about NYC that ever made me uncomfortable.

3.
Elfriede Jelinek on one of the most principal challenges of my life:

This is the story you tell in "The Piano Teacher", which was based on your own life. You trained as a musician and lived with your hypercritical mother in a house in Vienna.

I still live in that house, but my mother died four years ago. I used to commute back and forth between Vienna, where we lived, and Munich, where my husband lives. I still do it that way. A tale of two cities.

Why doesn't your husband move to Vienna to be with you?

Because I need to have a second home in another city. I have to be able to escape from Vienna as often as I like. That's why the home in Munich is almost more important to me than it is to my husband, who is fond of Munich because he grew up there.

I don't need a husband, but I want my life to function like this.
(a second home in Belgrade, needless to say)


4.
FOOD AND DRINK

- popara, đevrek, žu-žu (ate 100 grams of this on the way home late in the evening after seeing a play at Atelje 212 Theatre)

- the best hot chocolate ever at Ruski car -- when you order it in cafés, hot chocolate often resembles pudding more than a delicious liquid substance, but Ruski car doesn't disappoint. The café is beyond beautiful with its high ceiling, enormous chandeliers and photos of Russian emperors and Putin on walls; it's very posh and very relaxed at the same time, a completely unique atmosphere that I haven't come across anywhere else.

- pancakes at Glumac, ćevapi (sarajevski sa jogurtom) at Cica, donuts a la West at Krofna Bar

5.
A Slovenian passport is a prized commodity on the trains going south. It inspires wistful looks followed by questions such as "So you really don't need a visa for [insert country]?" as the current visa system for the holders of Serbian, Bosnian, Montenegrin etc. passports is an atrocity that should be banned by the Geneva convention (visas can be rejected without explanation, come on!); they are planning to finally abolish it by the end of this year, but with all the Balkan-European political mumbo jumbo it's hard to be sure about anything. Despite this ridiculous restriction of movement, my friends in Belgrade still manage to travel more than most people I know here. The majority of the best conversations about traveling, people, nationalities and cities I've had in my life took place in Belgrade.

6.
Belgrade vs. Ljubljana
Sunday evening in Ljubljana: empty streets, everything is closed → ghost town.
Sunday evening in Belgrade: packed cafés and restaurants, people in the streets, exhibitions open until 9PM etc. (also in case of heavy rain)

This (not to mention the many grocery and fast food stores open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week) reminded me of how much Ljubljana still has to grow as a city. I rest my case.

Belgrade is the only city I've been to where it's possible to see not one or two, but many women sporting rainboots in bad weather, mostly these pairs. I'm usually not a fan of animal prints, but they fit in Belgrade perfectly.

7.
neke stvari se jednostavno poklope
Momo Kapor, "Foliranti"

pogled na Novi Beograd sa Kališa
(gde je trenutno postavljena izložba fotografija Srbije od kojih pola izgleda kao da su snimljene u nekoj egzotičnoj zemlji, zaključak: Srbija je mnogo lepa)

čekanje kod Pravnog fakulteta zbog dolaska Medvedeva (zatvorili su ceo Bulevar kralja Aleksandra i okolinu)
Pandur: "Još desetak minuta, imajte strpljenje."
Doterana žena u 45-oj: "Jebem ti ja mater."

šetanje kraj Save kad padne mrak, predvečernji Dunav,
Ušće i Veliko ratno ostrvo

Terazije

PREVARA DECENIJE: ptica-dinosaur kod Skupštine opštine Vračar na Njegoševi sa kojom smo popričale i poklonile joj čak dve limenke kokakole u nadi da će izbaciti obećani tiket (koji sam želela da ponesem kući kao suvenir), ali na kraju ništa od toga (mora da je nestalo papira, a možda se ptica-dinosaur i nešto zainatila)

Severinin "Gade" sa kioska na Knez Mihailovoj

Đeram i Kalenić pijace

8.
The last night I kept prolonging sleep because I didn't want to stop listening to Belgrade's pulse, knowing that soon the opportunity would be gone. In a way, this was the defining moment of my entire life.

On Fashion, part I

I wrote this on the train from Belgrade to Ljubljana yesterday, I'm going to Milan tomorrow, my life is crazy and I'll sleep when I'm dead.


My favorite dress I've never seen. By Yohji Yamamoto (who else?).

on fashion, part I

I. fashion versus style
Everyone has their own definition of style. Most often it comes down to knowing who you are and expressing it through what you wear; this automatically poses the question of how closely fashion and style are intertwined, more specifically how much attention (if at all) style should pay to fashion. Diana Vreeland made a very famous statement that "Style is saying no" and indeed saying no inevitably means differing from what is expected. Applied to fashion, it favors timelesness over impromptu shopping for the sake of shopping and ditching half of your wardrobe each season in order to "stay in the moment"; sometimes it turns into a longer process whose development is constant, opposing the ever-changing trends. In essence, style is the negation of fashion.

II. staying in the moment
It's difficult for me to evaluate how much attention I pay to fashion. During fashion weeks I'll check out the new collections of my favorite designers on Style.com to stay updated on their work and the most outstanding pieces end up on blogs anyway so I don't feel like I'm missing out on something by not digesting every single show, but I don't read fashion magazines (except the local ones) because I don't find them inspiring. Fluff articles that don't bring anything new are a waste of time and regarding editorials, I (desperately) want an editorial to have a story, a working concept that makes me think. Too often they are too "style over substance", but what's even worse are anemic, lifeless models incapable of supporting a story by showing emotion.

I determine whether a piece of clothing, a pair of shoes, a bag etc. will find its home in my closet by answering the question Do I want to wear it forever? While this may seem radical as garments themselves don't last forever in the physical sense, it helps me create my own "moment" (metaphysical time capsule) independent from the fast-paced "modern life" and what is dictated by others (fashion- and otherwise).

III. fashion fascism in slovenia, i.e. ljubljana
The general opinion about the culture of dressing in Ljubljana is that it is virtually non-existent. Many people complain about this city (and country) being light years from fashion forwardness as if the fact that it's not a world-renowned fashion capital is something surprising. I view Ljubljana's character as primarily Central European (despite its numerous Balkan influences) and major Central European cities except Berlin aren't known as fashion capitals either, so the real reason might lie behind the mentality of the whole region. What's particular to Ljubljana is the lack of high-end stores, however this can be explained by the smallness of Slovenian market; there simply aren't enough people to shop there regularly.

How much is being well-dressed related to one's personal quality and intellect? It's rude, not to mention shallow when people view it as a social norm and refuse to acknowledge the freedom of priorities; in Ljubljana this unfortunately happens quite often (I call it "fashion fascism"). People who work in the field obviously have to be well-dressed because it's a part of their job, but otherwise I think deciding how much attention they're willing to pay to this aspect of their life is completely up to an individual and someone who doesn't care about clothes should never be criticized for their lack of sartorial intelligence.

In Ljubljana/Slovenia, a couple of times a year somebody will raise their voice about how they went out dressed in a more unusual combination and scored negative comments from others, claiming that Slovenians don't know a thing about fashion and style (actually putting their own hubris on display for the world to see) and how "awful" it is that they can't be themselves in this city/country without being laughed at; the great irony is that their style (or lack thereof) usually isn't that revolutionary to begin with. I also know several people who qualify as overdressers by "normal" standards and have never had a problem with anyone. My experience is the same; maybe we're lucky, but maybe the reception you get from others mostly has to do with your head, not clothes.

IV. what fashion capitals?
When I moved to Manhattan one year ago, I thought I would be seeing really well-dressed people all the time. It didn't happen and I continued to travel around Europe after I had returned to Ljubljana with this in mind, still surprised about the only thing about NYC that wasn't like in the movies. After extensive research consisting of rummaging European boulevards watching people without making it look like staring (only tolerated in Vienna where it's a local custom) I grew sure about one thing: the percentage of well-dressed people is the same everywhere. If you hang around hip, culture-related places or attend fashion weeks, of course the number will rise, but from my experience cities where people's fashion consciousness is significantly above average (fashion capitals) are nothing but a myth.


To be continued.

→ On Fashion, part II

London Calling

Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, October 10^th, 2009

London, UK :: October 9^th to 11^th
Mission: See Bizet's Carmen at the Royal Opera House

The first time I visited London was last April and up to this day it remains the only city I'm not sure I like or not. Parts of it bother me on a purely energetical level, i.e. sometimes walking through a particular street, past a particular building feels inexplicably uncomfortable while it's usually the exact opposite with other cities -- Belgrade and Venice for example are like a magnet for me because of their positive energy. It might also be that seeing (and having lived in) NYC before London affected me in the sense that (to me) NYC is London on acid so when I came there, I wasn't truly amazed by anything because I'd already seen it done much better before (I remember thinking how Piccadilly Circus was a cheap fake of Times Square) and my days of yearning to be British are long gone as well although I have remained an ardent fan of Adrian Mole. On the other hand, there's still so much I have to see in London and I feel I'll only be able to produce a good "final judgement" once that has happened.


I unexpectedly went through a very difficult emotional situation last week (starting university feels light compared to it) and whenever something like that happens, I have to go somewhere else to get things sorted out in my head and be alone for a while which is clearly not possible in Ljubljana. Such a coincidence that I actually planned this trip months ago ... When I boarded the plane on Friday morning (7:25AM flight to Gatwick), I found someone I've known since I was little and hadn't seen in a while sitting in the same aisle; we talked about music, children and Moscow and it was good to begin shifting my attention to more pleasant things.

I was looking forward to landing in London tremendously as I needed to get something normal to eat (plane food makes me sick), but the flight lasted for what seemed like eternity. At Gatwick I had to get from the North terminal to South to catch the train to Victoria Station and while I didn't have any trouble finding the way in April, this time it was marked rather badly (apparently they've made changes to it in the meantime) so I was going up and down on escalators looking manically for signs that actually led somewhere. I got on the train 10 minutes before departure and had to walk through 3 wagons to find an available seat because they were already full. When we arrived to Victoria half an hour later, I turned on GPS on my mobile and proceeded to walk to my hotel; since my orientation skills are practically non-existent, I did recognize parts of the way from before, but I definitely wouldn't have made it without GPS (I never know where to turn at Trafalgar Square).


Trafalgar Square
I checked into the hotel in a state of complete and utter misery. Still enduring a bad case of empty, thus dissatisfied stomach, I went out to get food after unpacking, but since I was feeling down and there were so many restaurants I didn't know and I hated London because all I saw on the way to the hotel were construction sites and people who didn't know how to walk, I got really anxious and couldn't pick a restaurant to save my life. I ended up getting paella from the Covent Garden Market and a Dunkin' Donut from Tesco (I had to restrain myself from buying a dozen like in April when these donuts were all I ate the entire weekend) where I also stocked up on Vitamin Water. Speaking of which, aren't those little stories on their packaging the most charming?

Vitamin Water DEFENCE: if you've had to use sick days because you've actually been sick, then you're seriously missing out my friend. the trick is to stay perky and use sick days to just, erm, not go in. don't overdo it on the coughing front the day before you want to take a 'sickie' though. big giveaway. just stick with the ever-elusive "24-hour bug" -- no one can prove a thing. just remember not to answer the mobile while shopping when you're supposed to be a spluttering, bedridden wreck. please note: taking a 'sickie' is very, very naughty.

After the late improvised lunch I had to face a strange but realistic question: What am I going to do in a city I don't like for 3 days? Thankfully I was saved by the clock suggesting I could just stretch my evening bathroom routine for a bit and then head straight to bed as I was exhausted from basically not having slept at all in the past week. Holly wasn't coming from West Midlands until lunchtime next day meaning I could sleep as long as I liked (i.e. very long), but my biorhythm decided to pull a trick on me by making me wake up at 7:40AM with so much energy that I had to get up instantly, went to Tesco, had breakfast, did meaningless things for a couple of hours and finally met Holly in front of the opera house where we picked up our tickets. After that we headed for Bloomsbury completely dependent on our maps as my GPS decided to stop working; we got lost about 100 times in Aldwych so we gave up and went back to Covent Garden for lunch at Wagamama where I had the best yaki soba in my entire life.

We didn't feel like dealing with maps again out of fear of ending up in some deserted, remote place so we went to the National Gallery where we'd already been in April but (1) it's huge and (2) we love it so it was definitely worth it to check it out again. We kept cracking jokes the entire time -- we're both really creeped out by the portrayal of people in Dutch Renaissance paintings but love still lifes in that style because of their vibrant colors. Unfortunately we couldn't stay for long because we needed to get ready for Carmen and study the programme thoroughly before the performance; I didn't even take mine to the opera as after the curtain has gone up, I don't really know what to do with it any more.

Giovanni Battista Moroni: A Knight with his Jousting Helmet

Eva: Look, these pants were very trendy last season.
Holly: He was way ahead of his time.
Carmen was mind-blowing, but I wasn't expecting anything less anyway. Everyone was top-notch and while I didn't like how Bertrand de Billy conducted Werther at Vienna State Opera in May, his work here was flawless (especially Chanson Bohème). Elīna Garanča is my favorite singer so it would be impossible for me not to understand her interpretation of Carmen (and how much fun she's had with it) and Alagna, oh Alagna, let me just say that someone commented that it shows in his voice he's getting divorced -- in the best possible way! Carmen is so stunning musically -- everyone with a slight interest in opera and/or classical music knows its main themes, yet these melodies never get boring and each time I hear them I get the same thrill. The sound of this opera feels very exotic to me, probably because I've always perceived it as a mix of French and Spanish -- I never know how I want to pronounce Don José ...

After the performance was over and I went to pick up my coat I heard someone saying my name without the slightest trace of accent. I turned around and my jaw almost dropped: there were my friends Katja and Goldie from Vienna! It turned out that Goldie had left me a message on Facebook when she found out I was going to attend the same performance through Iska (our mutual friend) but I didn't see it because I didn't have internet since Thursday. I was already on cloud nine because of the opera, but seeing them made the evening a million times better. Just to think how it all worked out in the end, even without technology -- truly amazing.

This production of Carmen has the most beautiful opening I've seen anywhere: there's a woman among the people in the square washing her hair in a sort of well, she tilts her head backwards and for a second there's a splash of water drops in the air. This moment reminded me of the moonlight on Giulietta's bed in the April I Capuleti e i Montecchi -- in my book such intricate details score major plus points for Royal Opera House.

Holly and I had decided in the morning that we'd go to the stage door to congratulate the singers after the performance (my friends from Vienna and the States lovingly refer to this practice as "stalking") and when we got there we were surprised to realize we'd been preceded by literally dozens of other people. I had no idea what to think -- after the April I Capuleti e i Montecchi only about 15 people came to the stage door and the security guard let all of us in whereas on Saturday people had to enter one by one while the guard literally kept shutting the door in the faces of those still waiting outside. Chatting with someone in the crowd who didn't understand what exactly was going on either, I said that "there are so many people here and Netrebko isn't even in town" to which a lot of people laughed and I thought it was the most sure sign of opera geekery I've ever seen.

After having completed our "mission" with great success, we met Katja and Goldie in a nearby pub and had an awesome time discussing Katherine Jenkins, German soap operas, how it can take you years to graduate in Austria because you set your own deadline, Kristin Chenoweth, the Met's La Cenerentola etc. It also turned out that Katja and Goldie were in London for the same Capuleti performance as I, but we didn't know each other yet then (we met a month later in Vienna). The waiter threw us out a little before midnight and I couldn't help thinking what a lousy pub it was (I'm always the first one to go home, but I was ready to ~rock~ that night), however I was informed yesterday that all pubs in England close around that time so I stand corrected.


Postcards from the British Museum: Frog by Matsumoto Hoji + holographic Rosetta Stone
On Sunday Holly and I went to the British Museum and the genius in me had totally forgotten that place is the current home of the Rosetta Stone so imagine my surprise when I found myself standing right in front of it. The British Museum is so enormous that we decided to only see a couple of exhibitions starting with the one on Japan and of course it took us ages to find it but I was really glad we did because it was perfect (I really don't have other words to describe it. Everything on display made sense and there was a beautiful tea house in the first room). It sent me into another one of my "I want to be Japanese / I need to learn Japanese" moods and I resented the fact that I've forgotten how to write most of hiragana and katakana, giving myself 2 weeks to relearn them (I have my pink 10.5 x 8 wide ruled subject notebook I used for practising with Keiko in NYC one year ago at hand's reach as I'm writing this). We also saw the Chinese and Egyptian exhibitions (mummies!), but the Japanese one was far superior.

The last few hours before departure are always awkward because there's not enough time to do something substantial, but you don't have to leave for the airport / train station / ... yet either (not to mention the strangeness of saying goodbye to someone you know you won't see for quite some time) so you're stuck waiting in cafés and hotel lobbies wishing you could skip the rest of it and just materialize wherever you're supposed to be the next day. I left Covent Garden at about 5:30 and thought I would be super early for my 8:45 flight, but things sometimes take longer in big cities and I ended up arriving just in time. On the plane I battled my sleep-deprivation and major headache with a cup of Twinings, but it only cured the latter. Nevertheless, when I got home at half past midnight, my London state of mind didn't care about getting rest before Monday's classes at university and I stayed up until 2AM writing emails.

London, I will miss you!

Venetian Impressionism

Venice on Saturday was

dozens of adorable tiny dogs,
women in summer dresses and men in jackets,
a particularly good cannolo (second in my life) from a random bakery,
vaporetto stopping at the other side of the Giardini where we discovered the house with the number 1 (it has something to do with the military),
calmness of Lido,
Mahler's Third Symphony & Oliver Mandić's "Smejem se, a plakao bih" (one of the most mindblowingly brilliant pop songs I've ever heard),
planning to steal a tea bag of Twinings from a bar at Arsenale next to the Greek lions and then forgetting about it,
walking around without any "obligations" (camera, phone -- the photo above is old),
tagliatelle alla busara and carpaccio for lunch,
realizing that Venice actually smells really bad (something I stopped noticing years ago),
frantically scanning bookstores and regretting the limits of my Italian,
thinking that in less than a week I will be in London, skipping university,
and many other things.

MY LIFE





Today was my first day of university. I felt like writing this down somewhere.