tourist couture

So I buy a shirt at most destinations that I travel.

I haven't been to Pofadder [yet], but will aim to buy a wardrobe full of so-entitled Pofadder tat, including a fistful of fridge magnets (everyone in my family is a winner!), the coffee mug, the shirt, and the obligatory snow globe with 'I [heart] Pofadder' on the base.

For now though, I managed to find the above t-shirt ("Absolut Svensk") on the streets of Stockholm. I have a Berlin one too, which I wear to board meetings, Green Peace picketings, and for when I met the president.*

The thing with tourist shirts as that you have to be so careful.

Peas: Look! A Sweden shirt for only [mental calculation ensues]...er...R5000. No wait. Five pounds.

Brit: You should get the 'I love Swedish girls' one.

Peas: They don't have my size.

[pause]

Peas: I'm going to wear it with my power suit to work tomorrow.

Brit: No. You have it all wrong, princess.

Peas: And why is that?

Brit: You can't wear a tourist shirt the moment you return from a destination. It's too keen.

Peas: Can I wear it in Sweden then?

Brit: Definitely no, on all accounts.

Peas: I have to wear this thing, it taunts me. It says 'Wear me now, wear me now.'

Brit: No no. You need to wait at least three days until you wear it to work. It's the fine line between cool and 'she-hasn't-done-her-laundry-in-five-weeks-so-has-to-buy-tourist-tat-at-tourist-traps.'

Peas: Three whole days?!

Brit: If it were me, I'd wait three whole weeks. THEN you wear it. Then you might get a , 'Say, didn't you go there this year?' As opposed to, 'Dude, did you get your clothes stolen in Scandinavia?'

Peas: Oh right.

Brit: I know it's hard. You just have to exercise some discipline. Your street cred is counting on it.

It's been two days. I wore it to work today. With a pencil skirt. I know I have jumped the gun, but frankly, I'm feeling a bit flat.

Already, my Welsh colleague: Nice shirt.

Peas: [blushing with pride and joy] Wow! Thanks so much!

Welshman: Where'd you git it?

[pause]

Peas: er, Sweden.

Welshmen: I know. I can see that. I was being ironic.

My Brit is in San Francisco for another week, I had to say goodbye to Poen last night, and two weeks yesterday, I turn 30.

Fuck.

For Poen's last night in the Big English, we drank champagne and ate dim sum. It was Ladies Night, so we got everything half off.

Score.

*I met Hillary Clinton once. She was almost the president.
I have also met Nelson Mandela, but it doesn't really count because I wasn't wearing my Berlin shirt.