Running back and forth with Malin between her voluminous archives and extraordinarily well-edited shop in Brooklyn is like a drug for someone like myself who thrives on connecting with people that live so deeply and vividly in their dreams and figure out how to manifest them. It was like a euphoric whirlwind shooting her as she moved with lightning speed, putting together on herself a feast of the most enviable combination of exceptional vintage clothing imaginable. Lucky for us, she didn’t have enough garments for her Barbie at age 5, which she feels fueled a burning desire for an abundance of choices for the rest of her life. Equally fortunate for us, the socialism of Sweden didn’t appeal to her innate and insatiable need to be an individual, so she moved to the US. A born tastemaker, when she saw Annie Hall in the ’70s (I saw it at least 30 times), she abandoned her bell bottoms and went to school the next day in her dad’s suit (I didn’t). For now, she is into equestrian genres, for a feeling of power and oversized suits and “bulk” in general, as the new “confident sexy”, like her Norma Kamali jumpsuit and drop dead ikat Issey Miyake dress. But what shines through everything for me is the depth of Malin’s comittment to the meaning behind the pieces that she loves best. They have nothing to do with trends and end up representing her the most, like the very mannish Lagerfeld pin-stripe blazer that comes out every fall (with fedora) and the black scoop neck top that her grandmother wore as a “lady in waiting” in the Swedish parliament where her grandfather was a member (then it was part of a uniform over a blouse). It says everything about Malin’s sincerity and dedication and love for everything and everyone around her.
To learn more about Malin, go to the detailed captions page.