Not yet mitten weather

Did I say I bought a pair of Latvian mittens in Riga?  I had gone prepared with a couple of addresses up my sleeve, having read Bemused’s blog post on the subject a while back.  We’d booked a walking tour of Riga, though, and were none too sure where it would take us.  Still, I kept my eyes peeled throughout!

I was thrilled that our route took us past one address on my list and might just have snapped a photo as we passed by, in case we were set free sometime along the way   Be prepared, eh?

And guess what?  About ten minutes later, we had half an hour to get a coffee…or?

Run!  Back the way we came.  How lucky I am to have a hero with a sense of direction (and a sense of humour) at times like this!

Making a choice was difficult, but limited time meant I needed to be decisive.

I chose a traditional design in colours that I will wear.  I love them!

The cuffs are beautifully worked in a diagonal stitch and fit like…well of course they do!

There’s a good depth of cuff too, ideal for keeping out the winter chill.

Though the cuff is snug, there’s plenty of room for finger wiggling in the top.

I’m very pleased with my souvenir from Riga, knitted by “Latvians Grandmothers”

I think the price was remarkable for a hand made product using quality ingredients, too.

So thank you, Baiba, for your lovely work.  I shall wear them with pleasure.

A child of the Autumn

Arriving home after a couple of weeks away, we were greeted by the usual pile of post.  Most of it went straight in the recycling but one envelope caught my eye and I hung onto it.

With an October birthday, Autumn is “my” time of the year, but during one of those wardrobe colour sessions with a very talented counsellor, I think I was heard to say that if I turned out to be an Autumn kind of person in terms of colour, I’d give up.  Googling images of Autumn just now produced the usual selection – all traditional leafy pictures in a range of orange, browns and yellows.

You see my primary school uniform was brown and primrose yellow and I hated it from the moment I saw it.  I was a Brownie too, so even when I wasn’t in my school uniform, I still couldn’t get away from those awful colours.  On going to grammar school, I was glad to leave it behind but it was only a slight improvement, for that school uniform was maroon.  Why couldn’t we have navy blue or bottle green like everyone else?

Back to the National Trust Autumn catalogue which was in the pile of post, though.  Rather different from the cliched countryside images I’d expect to see on their publications, isn’t it?  Not a speck of brown and yellow in sight.  Following through to their website, with “designs inspired by untamed heathlands and moody landscapes”, I found several things I quite liked.  Bravo National Trust for catching my eye with something a little different from the norm – or did I just fall for their device to capture a new audience?

 

Anyway, my eye was attuned to this alternative Autumn palette as I caught up with a few favourite blogs, including Lia Griffiths whose palette of plum and saffron also appealed to me.  Well, students of colour theory would immediately identify the complementary colour scheme going on there and wouldn’t be surprised that it works so well.  But yay!  no orange!

The BBC website had a section on Autumn poetry, illustrated with photographs including the one above.  Most were the usual leafy landscapes, but this one appealed to me, in spite of the yellows and oranges because they are offset by the navy blue.

Perhaps I’m finding that I am an Autumn girl after all?

Because although I still wouldn’t wear sunshine yellow or marmalade orange, I do wear citrine and purple and perhaps this year, I could be tempted by that deep teal blue?

How interesting is it to observe these colour trends change?   And having noticed it, I find it fascinating to see how it all falls into place.

The icing on the cake

Just when I thought I had really done enough for one day, I spotted that sign.

I thought about it for five minutes and then declared that, however tired I was, I really wanted to go and see that exhibition.  In no time, our friend had bought tickets and we were finding our way through a secret gateway with a passcode, upstairs.

Up my alley?  100%.  This was an exhibit of Isabelle de Borchgrave’s work, based on paintings of the Medici family.

Each costume was made from paper, scrunched up and crumpled to create a soft, pliable material and then painted, glued and formed into realistic costume.

The detail was remarkable.

As was the likeness to the original inspiration.

I felt some costumes worked more successfully than others, but overall, the effect was stunning.

Even if it was obvious that these were painted embellishments, it didn’t matter – that was the point, after all.

It was the lace trimmings which were particularly interesting, I thought.

Some were finely cut and curled, to give the impression of lace.

Others appeared quite finely cut but on closer inspection…

were simply painted onto grey paper and cut out.

The whole thing was quite theatrical, with that same tromp d’oeil effect of a stage set.

I was so pleased I’d not only spotted the poster in time, but been determined to see the exhibition as well.

Especially when I recognised the poster shot.

I bought a copy of the book to bring home and to share with my m-i-l Bettine, who would have loved to have seen it herself.  I’d not heard of Isabelle de Borchgrave’s work before, but I’ll look out for it again now I have.

What next?

Well, it’s hard to walk right past an Oleana shop without stopping by.

And there might just have been another womenswear store opposite where I was persuaded to make a purchase, too.  That one was interesting for being the first cash-free store I’ve come across.  Sweden is becoming a cash-free society.

I wanted to take a look in Gudrun Sjoden whilst I was here, too.  Nothing here for me today, though.

So we returned to the last part of the Palace, past this “laundry and tailoring” shop.  For once, I could not even begin to guess “Tvatt & Skadderi” and had to google it!

Into the Armoury Museum then – and a most surprising flavour of the contents in the ticket office, don’t you think?  Well, it could partly be explained by the description offered on the website:

“It was in this royal armoury that Gustavus Adolphus in the 1620s wanted his blood-spattered clothes to be saved "as a perpetual memorial". This became the Royal Armoury's hallmark: blood-marked costumes preserved to bear witness to royal valour.”

And there’s me, thinking the armoury would be full of, well, arms.

OK.  Let’s go!

First, a neat bit of graffiti on the wall.  Now, there is a lot of graffiti here and most of it isn’t so decorative or carefully executed.  I doubt that most of that will still be there in almost two hundred years.  Or?

The opening image is of this huge coat of arms, in soft faded colours.  It was so beautifully lit, too.

This was a modern museum housed in the old stable block of the castle and it was extraordinarily well designed.  Each item was labelled, but the whole collection was attractively arranged behind glass walls and carefully lit to highlight the features.  The rooms themselves were rather dark and it took a while for our eyes to become accustomed to the light levels.

There were several of these elaborate saddle arrangements, some incorporating armour but all highly decorative.

But as usual, there was one item which stood out for me.  I stood for a while looking at this cloak and reading the caption beneath it.  It seemed as though it had been worn in a battle in 1718 and as I looked more closely, I began to think about that mud.  Was that 18th century mud then? It would have to be, wouldn’t it?  I mean, no museum would take an 18th century costume and put mud on it subsequently…

Then I looked more closely at a slightly different caption nearby.  It seemed as though Karl XII had been wearing this uniform in a battle in 1718 when he was killed.

Oh.

I noticed the word blodfläckar on the label and nudged my Hero who questioned my logic.  Did it actually say “this was the uniform he was wearing when he was killed”?

Errm.  No, maybe it didn’t.  But I felt confident that I’d drawn the correct conclusion, even though I don’t speak any Swedish and didn’t really understand every word of the label.  thankfully, google is a wonderful thing and not only did I find a whole lot more about Karl XII I think I found enough to convince even my Hero that my assumption had been right.

It was a fine example of the “blood-marked costumes preserved to bear witness to royal valour” wasn’t it?

There were a few examples of “real” armour there, too.

and a cute section on Royal childrenswear, too.  But when we reached the play section and dressing up box, we knew we’d reached the end.

Of this floor.

Because downstairs, there was more.

With creaking knees and aching feet, I braved the staircase (!) and as soon as I saw the first exhibit forgot all about how tired I felt!

Once again, the displays were beautifully arranged and really well lit.

Even though I’m not really interested in such things, it was hard not to be captivated.

What a great museum!

Having taken all the photos, ooohed and aaahed over those great horses (were they flock-covered or what?  we couldn’t tell but looked as closely as we dared!) it was time to go.  We wearily climbed the stairs and exited through the gift shop.

We caught up with one another in the lobby, where a couple of benches were too good to pass by without trying   As we did, we took more notice of the display there.  What was it all about?  Was there another exhibit in here?  Upstairs maybe?

As I read more, I knew that, however tired I felt, however heavy my feet were, I simply had to go and have a look at it.

I’ll tell you all about it in the next post!

In Stockholm

The day stretched out ahead of us and in the company of our friends, we didn’t want to waste a single minute.  So, immediately after breakfast we wasted no time and set out to the Royal Palace.

It was another glorious morning and the city was shining.  I think that what I notice most about the hotel in which we are staying, is that it’s not near the water.  For me, it makes all the difference.

Anyway, we head inside to buy tickets from a fun, if feisty lady in the office and asked for details of events throughout the day.  Sadly, no changing of the guard today, she said, but it would be scheduled for the weekend, so our friends would be able to see it, even if we couldn’t.

Our first location was the Treasury.  Now, you don’t think they are going to allow any photographs in there, do you?

Right.

So, please, dear guests (spoken in the voice of that last Russian guide we had in the Faberge Museum!) make use of the picture on the leaflet to imagine the style and beauty of the crowns and other regalia there is in that very secure room.  Loved it.

Next, we visited the State Rooms.  Now these proved to be rather more interesting than I expected.  We started in the Throne Room.

The real interest began just around the corner, though, where a series of rooms outlined the orders of chivalry.

Now, King Carl XVI Gustaf has been bestowed with many an honour, including this somewhat familiar one: the Order of the Garter.  Yes, and there at the front, looking more like a dog collar, I’m admit, is the Garter itself.

In the next room was a photograph of one of his forebears, Bertil, for whom the choice of decoration must have been quite perplexing.  Just which colour would match the outfit of the day, I wonder – or maybe the outfit is chosen to complement the order he is advised to wear on that particular occasion?  So much easier for a man in black, grey or navy blue, though, don’t you think?

My favourite room was the order of the Polar Star, awarded to foreigners for services to Sweden.

In here was a display of how such things are made – a surprisingly long and labour intensive process, it appears.

My eyes fell, as they do, on what I thought were a couple of Dorset buttons on the miniature set of medals in the case, but on enlarging the photograph and looking closely, they are not Dorset buttons at all, but created from ribbon.  Neat!  I’m sure I have a book with these in it and must look it out!

Which one would I choose?  The Danish Order of the Elephant, of course!

Anyway, these rooms led through to the State Apartments.  Clearly, they knew we were coming and rolled the carpet back!

Having just spent time in St Petersburg, walking through ostentatious gold rooms a plenty, these state apartments appeared rather restrained in comparison.  Still, the guest rooms were lavish in size and the list of those who have stayed in them resembled a Who’s Who of world leaders.

Not all of the rooms were on a domestic scale, though!

I liked the illustrations of each room in use, too.  It makes it easier to put things into proportion.

So, we’d done with the Palace tour for now and thought we’d go in search of a bite to eat in the old town.  But outside, something appeared to be happening.

Could it be the Changing of the Guard, perhaps?

Well, yes, it looked like the same ceremony as we’d remembered.  Who said it wasn’t happening today?

So we joined the crowd and watched and waited.

I felt thankful for my super-zoom. Are we going to take a close look at the dress standards, do you think?  Of course we are!  I think I might have straightened his tie if he was my boy

Because I don’t want to be overly critical or anything, but these seem to be a rum lot of soldiers, don’t you agree?  Is it the gaiters that give a relaxed impression, or perhaps it’s just that the Swedish equivalent of “stand to attention” is a bit different from the interpretation I’m familiar with?

Hair on the collar?  Surely not in uniform?

I noticed that beards are being worn large this year too!

As I’m observing all these little idiosyncrasies, I hear that the regiment on guard this month is a regiment of engineers.  Does that explain things?  I have no idea!!

Meanwhile, the chap holding the heaviest standard was struggling rather.  A stiff breeze had got up and it was blowing about a bit.

He was doing his best but at times could do little more than twist the pole and hope it blew back the other way.

By this time, the guard had changed and the new team were ready to go and stand for the tourists’ photographs.

We were going to go and have some lunch.

Back soon.