Skip to main content

Cinnamon-coated millennials and the Danish party frock

Millennials, snowflakes, the "youth of today". Call them what disparaging term you wish but the underlying truth is young people are being given a disproportionately hard time of it.

Perhaps no more so than any other younger generation coming up before them - there will always be the pervasive idea that how the elders did things, how they behaved, was the right, the only, way. But what is different for the young people who are growing up now compared to those who have gone before, is the very bottom of what has kept past generations rooted to the earth has been pulled out from underneath them.

The ability to earn a steady, reliable and sufficient wage, the opportunity to buy a permanent roof to put over their heads, the chance to purchase the little fripperies and delights which ease the toil of their daily lives.

These aspects of life which past generations have enjoyed guilt free, are now being picked up and used to beat young people around the head with. The little comfort this reporter can give to young people living in the UK is at least they are not having to live out the cinnamon-coated hell of their Danish counterparts.

Step out onto a street in Denmark and you will be confronted with what appears to be a gingerbread man autopsy. A sea of spices, egg yokes and flour litter the pavement. However, the event which has gone before is not the ultimate in Great British Bake Off food fights but an ancient Danish ritual that sees young, unmarried people on their 25th birthday doused with cinnamon.

Their family and friends may even drench them with water first so the cinnamon really sticks or combine the spice with egg white. On their 30th birthday, if they are still single, the cinnamon gets upgraded to pepper.

"Why" would be the most reasonable question at this juncture. And apparently it harks back to hundreds of years ago when spice salesmen would travel around selling their wares and because of the nature of their jobs, would find it impossible to settle down and get married.

As a result, they would be referred to as "Pebersuends", which translates to mean "pepper men", whilst a single woman would be referred to as a "Pebermo" or "pepper maiden".

But never fear, the Danish are not judging young people for being unmarried apparently. The average age of men getting married in Denmark is 34 and for women it's 32. The cinnamon dousing is not seen as punishment but rather an excuse to play a prank with their friends when they reach milestone ages.

This reporter doesn't know why they don't settle for the Hydrogen dress by Cecilie Copenhagen instead. This dress, inspired by the original scarves Danish designer Cecilie Jorgensen first used to create her signature designs, is perfect for any birthday celebration. But take a coating of cinnamon instead if you like.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Political Vanity and the Topshop Rust Dress

"Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the best reporter of them all?"

"This Reporter is all right, but the best reporter by far is..."

Smash!

Hello and welcome to This Reporter's weekly news and style round-up and this week there is a distinct whiff of vanity in the air. From portraits and balloons, to TV shows and Google listings, without further ado - let the egos swell. Just beware the rusty nail.

Readers, This Reporter begins with the sensational news there has been a reason to be proud to be British this week, namely the rendition of Aretha Franklin's "Respect" by the Royal Welsh Guards at Buckingham Palace. The brass band version of the classic hit came as a surprise to passers-by at the changing of the guard and marked the day of the legendary soul singer's funeral in the most eccentric of British ways.

Crashing back down to earth with a bump and Parliament is back this week, with all eyes set on ensuring we make the smoothest and most p…

Carrot Fluff and the Leopard Print Evening Gown

PUBS have this week been told to stop serving "carrot fluff" to their customers and instead go back to good old-fashioned pub grub like bangers and mash. The hefty dollop of criticism came from "The Good Pub Guide" which decreed drinkers were being put off by baffling and pretentious menus.

"We don't want our dishes adorned with carrot fluff, edible sand or fish foam, leave that to the swanky restaurants", the Guide scolded. This Reporter reassures readers they won't find any carrot fluff in this week's news and style round-up. And yes she is using the food stuff as a metaphor. As always there will be plenty of those though, and a leopard print evening gown.

We kick off with the news two Russian military intelligence officers were behind the novichok poisonings in Salisbury -  with more than a suggestion the order of command came from top brass himself Vladimir Putin. Though he denies it, of course.

The "Perfume Poisoners" as This Re…

Impeachment, Scallop Wars and the School Blazer

Hello and welcome to This Reporter's weekly news and style round-up. And isn't it curious how the fortunes of Britain and America appear to be in perfect accord, as the two greatest disasters in living memory - the election of Trump and the Brexit referendum - have reached an apocalyptic pinnacle this week. The question is, when will we have the time, or opportunity, to buy our new school blazer?

Because politicians are getting ready for a new school term at the exclusive, fee-paying establishment which is Westminster, and this is to be the equivalent of an exam - rather than a 'doss' - year. As a result they have been inflicted with an element of holiday homework, namely the reading up on the No Deal “information papers”, which the Government ummed and ahhed over releasing. For fear the nation would collectively wet itself.
This would have been quite the handy solution, but as to flooding the place, This Reporter has just one question – whether the Dealers or No Deale…

Brexit Spoiler Alert and the Autumn Brogues

WE'RE going to be getting the political miles in this week so there's no other thing for it. Time to purchase our autumn brogues. Welcome to This Reporter's news and style round-up.

And we begin with the blast from the past which is Gordon Brown. Like Harold from Neighbours, we thought we were shot of him, until he showed up years later with a spot of amnesia. Though Mr Brown's brain cogs appear to be firing on all mathematical cylinders, as he warned us this week we were in danger of "sleepwalking" into another financial crisis - if world leaders did not work together in acting on the lessons of 2008.

The trouble is the former Labour chancellor (and lest we forget - Prime Minister) was unable to say what would trigger it. This Reporter wouldn't like to presume - Gordon's the 'money whizz' - but how about the small matter we have come to call Brexit, as suggested by the Bank of England's Mark Carney this week.

Talking of which, the Governm…

Brexit Titanic, Bond and the Balenciaga Sweater

THE sartorial equivalent of an exploding tin of Alphabetti spaghetti has hit the fashion world this week with the resurgence of the 90s trend for big shouty designer logos emblazoned all over clothes. And This Reporter can see this as no co-incidence of timing, as we witness a political front scant in truth-telling or plain-speaking but instead besmirched by skulduggery, twiddle-twoddle and bare-faced lies. You'll see. Welcome to your news and style round-up.

First up on the news podium is Jeremy Corbyn and listen..."speech, speech, speech, speech". That's the cacophonous call from multiple sides this week for the Labour leader to formally address claims of anti-semitism, both personally, and within his party.

One journalist, Gary Younge, a columnist for The Guardian, has gone so far as to write a speech for him. The gist of it runs that Corbyn must own his past mistakes, but issue the plea he has been more often than not on the right side of history.

Whether Corbyn&…