A year ago I watched Electrick Children from 2012 with Daniel and had another one of those I HAVE TO TELL MY READERS ABOUT THIS, because I love you. But then life happened and I forgot, so here we go!
The year is 1996 and Rachel (the breathtaking Julia Garner) is 15 years old. She is born and raised in a mormon community in Utah and everything is happy and peaceful.
One day Rachel and her brother finds a cassette player in their basement. They’ve never experienced recorded music previously and despite that it isn’t allowed Rachel us swept away by the coarse voice of a far off rock’n’roll track.
But things all go wrong in their calm community and Rachel is all of a sudden pregnant. Unaware of how anything like that would happen she thinks it must be the rock’n’roll man on the blue cazette tape and she runs away to find him.
She ends up in Vegas where she bumps into the careless 90s dreamboy Clyde (Rory Culkin). He’s member of a punk band and also a runaway who brings Rachel with him and his gang on all kinds of adventures.
She tells him about the miracle of the man on the blue cazette who got her pregnant and Clyde sets out to help her find him. But it turns out to that the world is filled with a lot more temptations and struggles than a mormon teen could ever predict.
Electrick Children is SUCH a stunning indie film full of love, loneliness and illegalities. You have to watch it! The clash between the drunken 90s teen angst and the oblivion of the mormon upbringing is magical. Plus that it’s 90min, like in the good old times.
Which are your favourite movie gems?! I need more films to die to!
This past Saturday me and Daniel woke up and had to rush off to the liquor store as it closes at 3pm and then doesn’t open until monday again. Sigh.
The sun was everywhere and the gravel smelled of spring dust. Daniel and I walked around the busy streets filled with young parents and their vintage strollers. We tried on glasses in uncountable stores, as I’m almost blind but haven’t owned a pair since 2010. Told Daniel that it’s lucky I’m five years younger than him as my glasses will add on at least 15 years to my look. I will most likely remain both poor and blind because the only ones I managed to find were £200.
Then we went to the dirtiest little hooligan bar to drink beers and watch Arsenal play to the soundtrack of Elton John’s greatest hits. I cried perhaps four times that day, not because of sadness though but because Daniel made me laugh so hard. HE IS THE FUNNIEST ON THIS PLANET.
At seven we were at Lidingö with this little one named Bergman.
My classmate and queen Majsan was dog sitting and had invited us over for dinner at her new flat!
There was no table or much other furniture for that matter, but it so happens that she has a boyfriend who is somewhat a Korean master chef.
Daehyun told us about his gigs and festivals all over the world, as he is not only a great cook but also a wicked musician. Check out his band WAGWAK.
He made us Bibimbap, my new favourite asian dish. A lot because of its brilliant name and the fact that nobody can feel sad if they order bibimbap.
We played music and they told us about all the crazy shit they were up to when they went to Daehuyn’s family in Seoul over Christmas. I want to go there more than I want to go to Japan now, which is a lot! Also this couple is absolutely mental and too lovely that I can’t imagine any destination they go to not be fun.
Outside there was once again gigantic snowflakes covering every bit of the sky, the ground, and any trace of spring. But I kind of forgot to get upset about it.
Our steps are quick as we rush down Mare Street, across the canal and down the dirty, damp alleyway. It’s empty and eerie like the British war films and the sound of our shoes scratching gravel against the cobblestone echoes into nothing. We stop in front of a secluded, metal door and open it.
Inside we hurry up the cement staircase to meet a roaring brunch crowd, high on caffein with cutlery slammering as they shout on top of each others sentences. At a corner table five of our friends are already seated.
The kitchen is busy frying pancetta and behind the bar beans are being ground and steamed into liquid gold. Over gigantic white menus we get to caught up in conversation to remember to find something to eat.
It’s getting ridiculous but during my school weeks I literally only eat mackerel on crackers or canned tomato soup because it’s the only thing I can afford. Either due to having returned from a trip like this or having one approaching. My mates all make fun of me.
But once I’m in London I’m close to royal, or at least I’m able to order a freshly cooked meal with a juice and not one but two coffees. It feels like that sure must count for something regal, or perhaps me just being spoiled or insanely irresponsible. This city still manages to put me on a throne as quickly as pushing me far down the sewers, but I guess that’s why I feel at home here too.
We’re getting to that point in life where some close friends manage to skyrocket in their careers and buy flats with beautiful views and we all discuss how jealous we are. Jealous and absolutely not even close to giving up our nights out and free weekends to do the same. Dilemmas.
Hours later the plates are empty and our bodies heavy. The air is damp and raw out on the street. I get asked about where to have my internship and what role I want. I answer by quickly crossing the street just as a car approaches and my friends get cut off and are left behind on the pavement. Don’t make me think of anything of severity or future, these are trips for oblivion and escapism.
Broadway Market is crowded with wealthy hipsters in sunglasses smoking Marlboro Gold and with coffee table books in their bags. We buy the homemade pesto from the lady that’s there every Saturday and bump into people who used to steal our drinks at after parties in 2011.
A wave of fatigue flushes over me and I feel too weak to continue even breathing. Yes drama queen. We have plans for the night so my time in London is too short to be ill. Daniel pulls me up on one of the buses and I crash in his bed, falling asleep far before the lights are off, hoping that the fever will disappear in my slumber.
It almost does, but either way there is no time to think about that. Only hours after brunch we are back at Bistrotheque. This time to have drinks with our beloved Jess and her Nick. Our waitress from earlier stops on her way to the bar and puzzled she asks ‘Weren’t you guys here this morning?’. I guess that’s proof of one frequenting a venue too often.
But the lights they glimmer all golden and the streets lay dark below. Only a few hundred meters away the double deckers are carrying youngsters in ugly attire down the filthy streets to pubs. There they’ll end up puking outside or cry when they happen to dance with the wrong person. In here though, all is warm and somewhat sophisticated and despite me being all for the gritty, dirty and the flawed, this is nice as a change.
I’m careful with the cocktails as the fever terrifies me. I come to think of that one time a few years ago when we had tickets to go see Gesaffelstein in Brixton and I was delirious with fever. We had paid tons for the tickets and waited months so I couldn’t just cancel it. Instead Daniel sat with me under the duvet, feeding we straight whiskey whilst picking out my outfit. That night we dance for three eternities and I was sure that the following morning I’d wake up with pneumonia or not even wake up at all. Instead I found myself feeling light and weirdly crisp, with no trace of germs apart from the south london mud on my jeans.
I decide to do the same this time too, going all in with the stakes higher than ever. In the liquor section at a Tesco Express with Daniel I stand pointing at the prosecco and firmly state that ‘We need five of these, because if I’m going to a party with a fever and I for once have some cash, I want to shower all my friends in luxury.’
So we get five bottles for £20 and head down to Hackney Wick. In a secluded art gallery up in one of the warehouses Ada and Daria have their birthday party.
A whole bunch of my mates from London College of Communication are there and it’s lovely to see them. They tell me gossip about teachers and stories of who’s dropped out and who’s broken up and who’s still letting one of our dirty perverted tutors to buy them drinks. I miss them and times like this I almost miss uni too.
Deedee is there and she looks like a freaking mermaid in her new blond braids.
Then I see my great love Ornella telling the dj to get the fuck out if he continues playing bad dubstep remixes. I smile and run up to hug her until she almost breaks. She’s my idol.
The venue fills up and the lights fade out. With Ornella as the new dj people go slightly mental and in the light of the projector they all dance dance dance.
The night vanishes and nobody wants to go home. It might be the worst speakers used at a party in the history of partying, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. The Drake tracks are close to unrecognisable but the shitty screaming of lyrics still somehow manages to make up for it and I can’t remember the last time I saw my friends this excited.
It does somehow come to an end eventually. To the sound of Abba the lights are turned on and bottles emptied. My fur coat gets stolen but I find it by ripping the rubbish dj’s bag open and my friends are then on him like hounds. I am more super impressed by myself actually finding it than mad at him for stealing it, plus that I love hearing british people swearing. The rubbish dj is ashamed though and pretends he didn’t put it there, but quickly hide away around the street corner.
We tell the Uber driver all about it on the way home and he is amused and slightly horrified, perhaps more about us than the story. At home I don’t want to sleep yet but try and grasp onto this exuberance for just a bit more. Daniel understands, so we stay up for hours longer, just because we can.
The babe of the month for February is the kickass Risa. Coming across her blog a few months ago I choked and now I couldn’t use enough superlative to describe her. Her outfit game is ridiculously good but most wicked is her attitude towards promoting and supporting other females – goddesses in her wording. So she was an obvious feature for this month.
Hello Clarissa, how are you doing today?
Hi Linn, my days going well, just finished shooting a blog post!
We’d like to know more about who you are! Can you tell us a bit about yourself and your passions?
Well, where can I start, I’m a young female living in East London, my blog has literally become my sanctuary and has played a big part of my life in the fashion industry. Before hand I enjoyed art and photography so it was only right I continued my creative side in some way. My passions are imagery, creative direction and I’m a real tomboy so I’m really into menswear styling.
I started my blog 2 years ago and I started it to get myself out there and also do something fun like a hobby. I didn’t expect the response and following I have today and I am so grateful. It’s growing and becoming a place of inspiration to many young girls who support and keep up with me. It’s not only a blog anymore, but female empowerment and a reminder that whatever you wear you can be awesome and bold!
Who &/or what inspires you to be creative?
Everything around me, the people I love dearly, the internet, books, magazines. Everything is a source of inspiration to keep myself creating.