Last week, I dragged my sister and my sister dragged her friend "Emily" to the Swedish festival in Minneapolis. I didn't really do a whole lot of research so we didn't know what to expect, but in my opinion that's half the fun of going to events like these. We did know that there would be ample people-watching opportunities available since Minnesota has a large Swedish-American population.
At the entrance we found a Swedish flag:And inside there was an exhibit of dresses. Not just any dresses, but ones that a QUEEN named Silvia had worn to the NOBEL PEACE PRIZE ceremonies. We had no idea we were going to be treated to such a fantastic exhibit, but it was quite a pleasant surprise.
There were dresses clearly dating from the 70's like this paisley chiffon gown:
This white one was SPARKLY all over! If anything would make you feel royal it would be this dress. The bodice was pearl encrusted and the tulle skirt had little crystals sewn all over in between the layers. (I could probably get rid of the bow, but maybe I just don't like it because bows aren't really my thing). But seriously, I think we were all mesmerized by the sparkles. I've just decided that when I get married I want a wedding dress encrusted with pearls and crystals. I wonder how much that would cost...
When we stepped outside the Swedish museum, we were treated with the sight of honest to goodness Swedish people. His coat was so regal blowing in the wind that we decided to channel our paperazzi selves:
Apparently he was smitten by "Emily" because he came over and tried to chat with her.
I thought he said: "Do you want to hang out with some Swedish people?"
"Emily" thought he said: "Have you ever danced with a Swedish guy before?"
Apparently he really said: "Have you ever gone on a date with a Swedish guy?"
She shook her head no and in a heavily accented voice he asked for her number. Apparently this really freaked her out because she panicked and gave him a fake name (Emily) and her real number. Which made me laugh... a LOT. Who gives someone a fake name but a real number?
After he walked off to go fiddle or something, my sister and "Emily" commenced a long freak out session.
L- You just got hit on by a 30 year old!
Me- I'm pretty sure he was at most 22
E- Oh my gosh! What am I going to do if he calls? He's as old as my dad! Eww! Couldn't he tell I wasn't even 18? Why was he hitting on young girls?
L- Crap! When he calls and gets you voice message, he's going to know your name isn't Emily! You need to rerecord it so it says hi this is petticoat or something!
Me- (Laughing like crazy) Petticoat? Seriously?
E- Yeah! Or something like that! What am I going to do guys? Oh my gosh! He's probably following us right now! We need to go or he's going to stalk me! What if he finds out where I live?!
This continued for a while longer, with me laughing for most of it...