Deadly Denim Days

Sweden is a long way away both in distance and time. I could be sitting in a chair ruminating about anything and suddenly a thought will hit me that I’m not in Sweden, did Sweden actually happen or was the whole thing a dream?

Strangely enough, I don’t turn to my dwindling supply of knåckerbröd or Tiger of Sweden jeans for affirmation. My totem it seems are Mario Party, Armin’s Friends and Deadly Denim Days, groups and sub-groups consisting of the people I met on the journey. The fact that my relationships with these people is real, that they are real people, thriving and existing (even if for now it’s just on social media space) somehow anchors exchange to me, lest I wake up each new day with the dream floating further and further away.


Photo by Robert

Deadly Denim Days is the brainchild of one Matty C (Swaggy P Jnr.) who decided that no matter where all of us were in the world, on a particular day of the month we would don the dirty denim and post it in our Facebook group. It’s 100% silly but silliness keeps us in touch. There are a lot of people in the group I probably only met a handful of times but there’s a nice familiarity I feel when seeing the profile of a face from exchange pop up on my feed.

Is it even possible to be this nostalgic with social media?


Photo by Robert


Dress: Thrifted

Necklace: Dallas & Carlos


Photo by Robert

I thrifted this dress at the Newtown markets, a trip in part for desserts, in part for shopping, in part to visit my friend Emily who runs an amazing sock stall. It’s three sizes too big for me, something which Flic and Robert advised me cautiously but I couldn’t put it down. It’s just too gosh darn cute. It’s also probably my first and only trump card with the denim crew, though nothing will ever quite beat Matt’s denim bucket hat.

This is probably the first of many future instances where I will make a purchase half-based on the nostalgic feels it will give me regarding exchange. Thankfully Swedes are well-dressed, delicious people, but someone please tug back on my overalls if I’m ever on the brink of buying surströmming.

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