12 Hours in Kuwait

It's the third time this year that I've been in Kuwait.

Mull that over for a bit.

Actually, I should have been born in Kuwait - that's where my parents lived when I was born. I used to be really annoyed - my wee brother was born in Paris, so of course, in keeping with the Parisians, he thinks he's better than me because I was born in boring old Edinburgh. In hindsight, I am glad that I was born in the UK, cos I can pass on my nationality, whereas The Boy cannot.

Still. Kuwait would have sounded cooler.

Laru, circa 1989

So my 'rentals left just before the Gulf War (number one, since you ask) when they could hear the war from the city, and I had just learned to walk. Not before they "accidentally" tried to drown me in a swimming pool - apparently, I capsized my baby lifeboat.

Second time in Kuwait since I lived there - Yacht Show - stayed in the Missoni Hotel. Third time since I lived there - The Regency - a hotel that complies with Sharia law. Fourth time since the eighties - 12 hours to attend the opening of a Chopard store.

I flew in an airplane, landed, hung out in The Avenues - the longest mall I've ever been in (over 1km) for 9 hours - then flew back.

I interviewed Caroline Schefeule - the co-president of Chopard - for the Watches & Jewellery edition of SLT which is next year and then moseyed around until the shop had it's official opening. Here are some of the highlights.

My outfit - unintentionally Zara head to toe

COS - my fave shop. Come to Doha, please?

Prestige Mall. Very ostentatious!

The red carpet

The beautiful 2 storey Chopard store

Until next time, habibis and habitis!

Art in Doha: Attitudes

Damien Hirst is exhibiting in Doha. Oh la la.

Who cares? Aren't we over him by now? I mean, he was hot in the 1990s when he had ideas. Now he is merely derivative and over hyped. I will admit, being on a canal in Venice and silently floating past a giant skill was cool, but otherwise, he is massively over saturated - I would not pay 100 million of any currency for his stuff. It's become boring and ubiquitous. 

I've not been to his exhibit RELICS yet, but will go and write a review soon. I missed the opening cos I was in Dubai attending the Vogue Fashion Experience Dubai - it's like buses in the UK - you wait an hour for one and then six show up. WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN AT ONCE? I'm gutted I missed it, but whatever, life goes on.

YET. Someone I know wrote on facebook how they saw a sculpture at the exhibit and hated it cos it was "gross" and "ew" - it was a gold copy of Bartholomew The Apostle - who, if you knowz anything about the Artz (hello, minoring in Art History at St Andrews University; Finishing School of Etiquette, Decorum and Privilege makes me AN EXPERT pip pip, Barbour privilege) - is like, totally important. I saw this badass sculpture in a cathedral in Milano and Hirst, because he lacks ideas and is dull, just copied it in gold and put it in his exhibit. In a Muslim country. Discuss. 

Bartholomew the Apostle, Milan

So Bart was persecuted for his religion, and the "gross" comes from the fact they flogged him til his skin came off, in fact, he is nonchalantly holding his skin like a raincoat in the sculpture. It is disgusting and gross to attack someone for their religion, and to hurt them for what they believe in is unforgivable. But to ignorantly dismiss this IMPORTANT piece of ART as, "ew, gross" make me want to slap someone. Anyone! ARGHHH! So of course, I thought, hey oh, I will explain this piece of art to these guys - it's a fairly important message - I thought at least. Their answer; yes, foolish white girl, the sculpture was labelled, we get it, it's still gross. Don't patronise us.

I'm not Christian. When it comes to labels, I will only say I am Scottish, feminist, a Libra and a former vegetarian and a member of Amnesty International. Nothing else interests me - why do you care, eh? I am a human. Stop tryin' ta put a label on meeee. Still, I think if someone, purposefully and wilfully ignorant which I can never forgive, soz guyz! said something similar of Arabic or Islamic art, we would be up in arms. Racist! I think I'm fairly unbiased - I honestly don't care who you are as long as you're nice - I think we should all be sensitive of religious art, and by extension, religion. It's fine to not like it - but saying, ew, that's gross - is fairly rude. Also - when I saw this sculpture in Italy, I was really affected by it - it was upsetting.

Everyone has ideas about art. They get upset when they see something they don't like - "that's not art to me" they'll say, as if art was made specifically for them. Art should be beautiful, art should be about something, art should be moral...what bollocks. As soon as you tell me art or literature should be X, I immediately think of an artwork that contradicts your limited views and redefines your narrow boundaries. Screw you and your boxes. I honestly think that people who think these things know nothing of art, and aren't artists themselves, so who are they to judge. I'm not going around telling people what you cook in your own kitchen isn't food - it's just not to my taste. That's a food metaphor for ya. Think on it. 

Everyone has ideas about art, I said. My idea is that we shouldn't impose our own limitations on someone else. You see something that is gross, I see something that challenges me, makes me think of the changing paradigms of religious persecution, what people can bear, what they cannot, man's inhumanity to man, cruelty and intolerance, their fear of something they just don't understand and their hatred of it - themes that, unfortunately, are timeless - and I think - wow, that's arresting, wow, that's powerful, wow, that's beautiful. Wow, that's art.

Unfortunately, when Hirst copies something, I think, urgh. I already know this! You just coloured it gold. Move on, bored multi-millionaire and make me think. 

WTF I'm Old Now

Dear All,

A few days before I turned 25, people kept saying to me how they had, on their 25ths, had major freakouts. Huh, I thought, well I had a freakout on my 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st and 22nd (not 23rd though - perhaps too drunk), so this was familiar territory.

And yet, no freakout. Instead, this strange little feeling I think may be determination has crept over me. Goals, I will conquer you, it says, mountains, you will be climbed.

One of those goals is to improve my fitness. I am a secret fat person - I may look fairly slim, but that's because I have bones similar to that of sparrows and no muscles. I'm bordering on obese. My fairly sporadic trips to the personal trainer in my gym have built up some muscle, but apparently you have to do some cardio for weightloss. Cardio, carbs, all this American slang confuses me. I have to do some carbs, you say?

Anyway, one day I woke up and thought, hey, I should run.

This is like Winnie the Poo suddenly saying, hey, I should carry round broccoli in my pot instead of "hunny" or Severus Snape saying, I should be nice to Harry Potter, or, to give a slightly more literary reference, Odysseus saying, nah, I don't need to go home.

Laru doesn't run. Laru hates running. About ten years ago, when I was in prison (read: high school) they made us run around the grounds every so often, and I remember panting away, the pain in my throat killing me (it's more the breathing than the running I suck at. I suck at breathing. Let that sink in), and thinking; if I need to be thinner, I will just eat less. This is THE WORST.

And then, when I was running for ten minutes straight (applause please) like a boss this evening, I realised - I am wearing the same shorts I was when I ran around the grounds at prison (read: high school).

That's right, I've kept the same damn shorts from when I was eleven (awww), with the prison (read: school) crest, that are both frumpy and fugly to do exercise in. How is that for continuity?

Anyway, hopefully now I'm 25 bloody years old, I will become fit. If not, at least I can still fit into my 14 year old shorts (pretty sure they're one size fits all/stretchy).

Best Wishes,

Laru