A Day Spent in Surplus

 I met up with Anna in town today and after a quick fika at Kafe Station, we were off to the army surplus store known creatively as Armyshopen, wherein we rummaged about the wide selection of war memorabilia and old army uniforms. I found a nice pair of wool trousers from 1943, perfect for tromping around the forests of the north and which I bought promptly for the very reasonable price of fifty crowns. Alas, they had no coat in my size, but the owners were very accommodating and told me to stop in next week, when they would outfit me with the very best. 

You see the little, pint-sized jacket in the very front? It's from the American army. 

One of the employees took us around, pulling out coats and jackets and coveralls and hats and telling us bits of history, to our mutual amusement. He was a true storyteller who genuinely enjoyed his matter. He thought one particular hat made him look poetic and posed for us. It only costs, he added, twenty crowns.

A gas mask for infants. You know the world has come to sad ends when it necessitates we take such precautions.

I will be going back next week and buying the other fifty percent of my uniform, and perhaps I'll take a picture of myself out mushroom picking, perfectly dressed for the occasion in my gray wool attire. I showed off my new purchase to my parents--Mamma couldn't quite see the point, exclaiming "Oh, how horrid. I would never buy that!" But Pappa seemed more inclined to know if they came in his size. Which they did. There may yet be two of us dressed in uniform.