so mr and i go to the museum of civilization in ottawa to learn about the history of canada. i guess i can blame my shallow-as-hell reponse to the exhibit on the fact that there is very little discord (relatively) in the story of our neighbors to the north, but suffice to say, i was picking up what they were (unintentionally) putting down, style-wise. old skool cananda is like an anthropologie but with less deranged skirts. i was all “i’m loving the aesthetic of this animatronic pauper making whale blubber. can i have his cute knit hat?” “um, can i take some of these viking navigational devices home for use as tchotchkes ??” and “these fur trappers know what’s up when it comes to cobbling, yo.”
but the cherry on top of the design sunday of canada’s history was the british officer’s quarters. the picture does not do it justice. i die.
