Life changes when you’re in a relationship that’s working. For the second time since partnered with Evan, I went on a solo European trip. I have the luxury of time, a love for Northern Europe and the privilege of being able to afford to go. (I’ve been consciously avoiding looking at my credit card expenditures and the conversion of European currency to Canadian dollars.) Besides, Evan has travelled Europe extensively and has said he doesn’t ever need to see another castle. I get it. But I’m not castled out yet.
This trip was my first time in Norway—Oslo and the SPECTACULAR Lofoten Islands. (Google Image them. Seriously.) But the start of my European adventure was my home base—or what I’ve often wanted to call home: Stockholm.
Oh, how I love the city! I’ve said it over and over but the place wholly suits me. I no longer feel like a tourist there. When I visit, I just live my daily life in local parks and cafés, hopping back and forth between favourite districts.
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Swedish actor Alexander
Skarsgård sporting The
Swedish Haircut
I will admit that Swedish men were once part of the draw as well. So well-groomed in a classically conservative manner. I’m partial to blonds and so many men wear their hair parted on one side that, a number of years ago, I went into a Stockholm salon and asked the stylist, “Please give me a Swedish haircut.”
She didn’t know what I was talking about. Still, she gave me her best effort at what I described. My stylist in Vancouver knows all about The Swedish Haircut as we call it. She does it well. (I can’t wait for my next appointment this week.)
On this trip, I didn’t pay much attention to the men. I think that comes with being in a secure relationship. The urge to look just isn’t there. I had to push myself to be more conscious of men’s fashion and, yes, hairstyles. Perhaps because I wasn’t consistently looking, I saw neither a consistent manner of dressing nor wearing men’s hair.
Where’d The Swedish Haircut go? If anything, the men I did notice were not as neatly groomed. Sure, there was light snow on many of the days during my visit; perhaps that made guys dress more for weather than style. (Evan would say it’s not an either/or predicament.) I suppose more men had hats on as well, hairstyles covered up. I only wore my toque one day—not in Sweden, but on the Lofoten Islands when the wind chill factor demanded I cover my ears. Overall, I’m not a hat wearer. There’s vanity—I don’t think they look good on me—and then there’s the discomfort: hats make my hair itchy. Is it just me? Are my follicles more inclined to itchiness? Of course, there’s also “hat hair,” the disastrous reveal when I take my hat off. I really, really need a haircut.
There was something even more calming about this trip since I wasn’t focusing my gaze on gays. With Evan as my partner, even the desire to look was just not there. Instead, I spent my time looking at pretty, old buildings—yes, a couple of castles—taking in overall street scenes and scoping out previously undiscovered cafés that might become a new writing spot. (Really, I think I stuck to all my familiar ones. So comfortable, so cozy, so easy to just dive into the writing.)
I’m back in Vancouver now. I only bought one basic shirt. (Despite not looking, my gut said I needed to be gentler on my credit card.) I have no new tweak to The Swedish Haircut. I just have hundreds of photos and nice memories. A wonderful trip, no gaze required.
