Primark knickers on Arne Jacobsen
Lena grew up in the most basic of working class homes in a basic neighbourhood in an armpit of an unexceptional city. She came from nowhere and wasn’t sure she will ever arrive somewhere. She always wanted to discover something special about herself but didn’t know where or what to look for. Fast forward to adulthood. She studied accounts, moved to London and actually managed to rent a flat of her own. One step followed by the next. On a walk from the tube she found a brown maybe-leather swivel chair that reminded her of something she saw on TV and she proceeded to drag it home with her. Many googling hours later the chair remained a mystery, however a new obsession was born. Luckily Lena didn’t have a very busy social life so she could invest her evenings deep-diving into eBay. Her weekends traveling to far off flee markets and car-boot sales and her hard earned money on slightly bruised 2nd (or 4th) hand mid century furniture and designer lighting. She wasn’t pretty. She never looked like anything. Looks were a lost cause and therefore she didn’t see the point in even thinking about her appearance, honestly, with such a low ROI. So, she wore her clothes out. Literally. and when she had absolutely no choice she went to Primark and filled a basket with the same clothes as she had before (slightly bigger sizes year on year, not that it mattered) without paying too much attention. She washed her face with hand soap and her clothes with the cheapest detergent on the basic cycle, but she treated her furniture like the gems that they were. Not a single chemical ever touched Lena’s rare vintage finds and her modern art posters remained perpetually spotless. Year on year Lena balanced her life in the same way as she balanced her accounts. She was nothing if she wasn’t calculated and anyway, change and spontaneity was for the creatives and artists who’s creations she appreciated so much, even if she could never explain why. But she was never the type to analyse feelings, only numbers.