Why is it that I can't allow myself to just sit down and read? How come that feels like just lolling around, waste of time? Even if I read worthwhile books about things that interest me and could even open some new horizons for me. it's a disease of sorts, I guess.
I picked few books from the library the other day. One book is about the royal dresses of Sweden, Hovets dräkter. Seems interesting yes, at the same time more or less a book one can just flip through, check the pictures and glimpse the text. I mean it is a nice book, not just that.. readable to me. But what I see as a potential thing to do is to (finally) visit Livrustkammaren in Stockholm next Saturday. I've been meaning to go there for years and so far not such luck. Maybe this time. Unless NK sucks me into it's dark holes.. Never know.
(I'm not able to find a reasonable pic of the book.)
Another book I took is The Fashion System by Roland Barthes. No pics, just text. A book I might read all the way or just to a certain point and then skip. So far having flipped through the pages it gives me a rather.. amusing feel of the book. I do like the idea of "breaking the code" of fashion, creating formulas of fashion. Of course the book dates back to the late 60s so we'll see what comes with the gap in time.
And last but not least is The Corset by Valerie Steele. She's in many ways my idol. Though I hate that word. I'll get back on Steele and her books later.
Now I'm going to read a while, then off to the beach with some chicks.
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