Old wood, aged fabric, years of use. Mom came home from Tallinn accompanied by a beautiful shawl for me. Bought from a little old lady who enthusiastically wanted to show them every single one she had AND learn Swedish in the process, it smells like a little old cottage. If you've ever been in Gamla Linköping (or similar), you know what I mean. It's a homey, aged kind of smell. Some would frown, but I like it. A smell can describe a whole world, a whole lifestyle. A way of thinking. This particular one makes me think of the peace and attention to quality details of the old country days - all the way down to growing your own rhubarb for a pie, sewing group fika, and mangled sheets. A busy life for sure, yet with an entirely different pace to it. A lost world I seem to miss even though I never lived in it.
On another note, it was kind of nice to babysit the pink ("It's not pink, it's hot magenta", as my mom would say... just like our coveralls are cerise, not pink..) car for a while... for 4.5 days I had a car, even though I'd never be stupid enough to drive in this crazy thing called the capital of Sweden. Anywhere else, I probably would have :)