moods of norway

When I was in LA, one of my top priorities was shopping. It’s funny, because when I was a bit younger, working a job that was emotionally unrewarding yet providing me with double the salary I currently make, I was a huge “shopaholic.” Ugh, I hate that term. But I was. I thought nothing of throwing down hundreds of dollars on a pair of designer jeans, and I racked up novelty track jackets like they were going out of style. (Oh. They were.) Currently, in these lean times, I rarely shop for the sake of shopping. My former disposable income and the delight I took in squandering it truly shames me now.

BUT APPARENTLY IT DOESN’T SHAME ME ENOUGH because once the plane hit the tarmac at LAX, I started rabidly fantasizing about Robertson and all the financial havoc I could wreak in one week’s time. Something happens to my brain chemistry when I’m in California. Things I could consider gaudy and wasteful in Washington suddenly become acceptable – no, more than acceptable, they become desired! For example, take my reaction when I discovered the Kitson clearance outlet in Santa Monica; I believe there were audible screams of joy and disbelief. Embarrassing…

Finally, though, I was able to reconcile my Californian thirst for spending ridiculous amounts of money and my Washingtonian rustic, cozy sensibilities with a new boutique I discovered in the heart of Robertson, right across from celeb dining hotspot the Ivy (talk about prime real estate! We saw Ciara!): MOODS OF NORWAY!

It’s a well-established fact that I am mildly obsessed with Scandinavian culture. Moods of Norway even won over my  companions, who previously had been getting a little impatient with my wild-eyed window shopping. It was decorated like a cheesy lodge (made me happy!), had a huge golden tractor you were allowed to “ride” (made Grace happy!) and it was freaking “waffle Saturday” aka FREE WAFFLES FOR ALL (made KJ kind of scarily happy!). Those crafty Norwegians, they made it all too easy to justify spending $120 on a fur-lined jacket (see image). When I told the shopgirl I was going back to Seattle and needed something that would keep me warm all throughout our miserable, disgusting winter months, she claimed my jacket would be “warmer than a Northface, but ew, I am against Northface anyway” …ha, nice way to subtly stereotype and shoot down Seattleites. But the tactic worked, once she pointed out “these are jackets made BY Norwegians FOR Norwegians, and you know their winters are really cold!” Eh, true. It doesn’t take much to convince me, especially when I’m just begging for someone to validate my gratuitous impulses in the first place.

Moods of  Norway is so hip that is only has that one boutique in LA. Otherwise it’s only in Norway itself. Providing me with faux-European elitism at its finest! Unless you are shopping in Norway or Los Angeles, YOU CANNOT HAVE MY JACKET. Apparently most people in Seattle don’t want it anyway; the other day I was walking home, proudly displaying my new coat, and this guy actually shouted at me from his front yard, “You can’t be that cold!” …whoa, way to call me out, random dude! Wearing anything with luxurious fur (albeit fake fur) seems to alienate and anger the natives here in Ballard. Everyone keeps ogling my outfit like I’m an asshole. It probably doesn’t help that I often wear the jacket with a pair of huge designer sunglasses, to drive home the fact that I am soooo fashionable and exclusive and I care enough about my wellbeing to keep myself fashionably warm while still protecting my eyes from damaging UV rays! Suck it, Seattle. My Norwegian roommate, Linn, loves my jacket. When I brought it home, she squealed, “Ooh! Moods of Norway! They’re SO HOT RIGHT NOW in Oslo!”

Made BY Norwegians, FOR Norwegians, and apparently APPROVED OF by Norwegians. As a ghetto-fabulous graphic tee I discovered at the Slauson swap meet proudly proclaimed: Haters keep on hatin, cuz u makin’ me famous.