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OPINION & ANALYSIS

My first impression of Stockholmers: Who are all these well-dressed dads?

Learn Swedish. Get a personnummer. Go cashless. Moving to a new country means going through a series of 'firsts'. The Local's reader Alexander de Nerée writes about some of the challenges, quirks and adventures he has faced since moving to Sweden.

My first impression of Stockholmers: Who are all these well-dressed dads?
Stylish dads pushing their strollers in Rålambshovsparken, Stockholm. Photo: Jessica Gow/TT

With working from home and travel restrictions firmly in place, the highlight of my day is the stroll through Stockholm. One of the benefits of moving to a new city is that you get to have that “long weekend city trip” feeling for a while. So, while walking the streets of Stockholm I try to savour the newness of it by observing it as a first-time visitor. 

Everyone will notice how pretty the city is. This mix between Amsterdam and Vienna while being surrounded by large bodies of water is incredibly appealing. What adds to its charm is the fact that different parts of the city all have a slightly different feel. This is nice especially when your radius is limited to where you can go by foot. Feel like hipster fika? Bröd & Salt in Söder! Feel like fancy fika? Bröd & Salt in Östermalm! The options are endless. 

And then of course there are the people of Stockholm. No better way to get an idea of the city than by observing its inhabitants as they roam their natural habitat. A few things stand out. 

In other cities I’ve lived in, you would find the occasional, slightly out-of-place looking father behind a stroller with a confused looking baby in it (on a Sunday, when there is no football on, during the summer holiday.) Not here: any day of the week, rain or shine, the streets are filled with men pushing black Bugaboos with abandon. Ok, they are also all on their phones, probably looking at football, but still, their babies get to see their father’s faces more than most. 

Speaking of faces: with the black parkas and the woollen hats coming off, the summer allowed me a first glance at what the people of Stockholm actually look like. In this regard, too, the city does not disappoint. Wherever you go, its broad pavements and parks are typically filled with well-dressed men and women in expensive sunglasses. 

The women are always elegant, often with longer flowing blond hair and a little dog. A look I’ve come to think of as “affluent Abba”: what the women of Abba would look like, had they dressed in accordance with their wealth today.

If women are known to dress up when going out in other places, the men in Stockholm stand out in that regard. You typically find them in tasteful business attire for any occasion, shiny Swiss watches on display, or with a look that suggests they are just about to board a wooden boat for a few days sailing around the archipelago. This is enhanced by the slightly hard-edged handsomeness mainly the young men display (think how Alexander Skarsgård gets cast and you get the idea).

Apart from the beauty of the city and its people, what makes walking around Stockholm such a pleasure, is that Stockholmers go out not just to go somewhere but often just for the sake of it. To enjoy the city they live in, just like a first-time visitor.

Alexander de Nerée moved to Stockholm with his husband in October 2020. He is Dutch, but moved from Zürich, Switzerland, after having lived in Hong Kong for 10 years. Signing up to move to a country they had never been to, in the middle of a global pandemic, was definitely a first for the couple. One of many more to come. Alexander writes for The Local about his “firsts” in Sweden.

Member comments

  1. Well dressed . What is your definition of well dressed , as Swedes are not well dressed compared to Parisians , Londoners and Berliners , so which rock have you been hiding under ?

    1. Agreed. Clean sweatpants and white tennis shoes does not make a man well-dressed. This author needs to see men in business suits at board meetings to understand what well-dressed really means.

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OPINION & ANALYSIS

Like having sex in church: Sweden’s uptight attitude to alcohol

Swedes have a deeply suspicious attitude towards alcohol, embodied in the state monopoly on its sale. Although ridden with guilt and hypocrisy, it is a healthy relationship, says David Crouch

Like having sex in church: Sweden’s uptight attitude to alcohol

Those boxes by the checkout sum up my problem with Systembolaget, Sweden’s chain of state-owned liquor stores. The boxes are called ångravagnar, from ångra, to regret. “Psst,” says the sign over each one. “Have you changed your mind? Here you can put back any drinks you don’t want to buy.”

The boxes are there to make you think again – do you really need all that booze? Won’t you hate yourself if you don’t put back a bottle or two? 

The regret boxes seem to serve little practical purpose, because they are almost always empty. Instead, they are there to send a message, whispering “Psst!” in your ear: “Don’t do it! Alcohol is wicked!”

Smiling assistants lurk around the stores, in theory so you can ask them what wine goes best with your food. Nonsense – they are the morality police, another “psst” in your ear. Talking to them feels like going to confession: forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin. Then there are all the TV ads for Systembolaget depicting toddlers being abused by drunken parents, or pious staff saying their aim is to sell less alcohol, not more

As a result, entering Systembolaget feels like having sex in church: a shameful pleasure. Here you cease to be an adult capable of taking decisions for yourself and instead become a wayward teenager who needs to be shepherded towards acceptable behaviour.  

Systembolaget – abbreviated to Systemet, or “the System” – is the embodiment of Swedes’ deeply suspicious attitude towards alcohol. It is institutionalised guilt on national scale. 

This guilt has historical roots. Sweden once had a serious alcohol problem. A century ago, average vodka consumption reached almost a litre a week for every man, woman and child. For decades, the country battled to find a way to bring down consumption, first with rationing and then the state monopoly from 1955.

The guilty view of alcohol lives on in all sorts of ways. Sweden, a nation renowned for embracing modernity and liberal freedoms, still has a significant temperance movement. The snappily named Independent Order of Good Templars has 24,000 members – more than most of Sweden’s political parties – and believes that Systembolaget should close at 5pm and be shut altogether on Fridays and Saturdays. 

In Britain, for example, politicians like to pose with a drink to show they are “of the people”. This could never happen here. I once went campaigning with a political leader in the run-up to elections, and we needed somewhere warm afterwards for an interview. But she declined to enter a convenient bar in case she might be photographed in a place selling alcohol. 

Quite apart from the System’s restrictive opening hours, there are very few stores – just 450, or one per 23,000 people. Until very recently, there were more golf courses in Sweden than places where you could buy a bottle of wine over the counter. (There are 449 golf courses, down from 454 in 2019.)

A recent opinion survey has compared attitudes to alcohol in the Nordics. Sweden emerges clearly as the Nordic nation that is the most uptight about alcohol. Fewer than half (45%) of Swedes say it’s okay occasionally to get drunk; one in five say it is even wrong to get drunk at a party. Finns and Danes come out as far more relaxed about booze. 

There is a whiff of hypocrisy here. In my experience, the best way to liven up a social gathering in Sweden is to uncork the gin and let it flow copiously. Not so long ago, a former government minister responsible for raising the tax on alcohol became so inebriated (berusad) at a party in the Stockholm archipelago that he exposed himself to the female guests. 

And yet, Sweden’s relationship with alcohol is a healthy one. Systembolaget is popular among Swedes, its reputation exceeding that of well-loved brands such as IKEA, Volvo or Spotify. More than three-quarters want the state monopoly on alcohol to remain in force, while only 18 percent say they want wine and spirits to be on sold in other stores

Despite its faults, Systembolaget represents society taking collective responsibility for a drug that has the potential to cause great harm. After decades of free-market liberalism across the globe, it is easy to forget that societies once behaved like societies, instead of leaving everything to individuals and the interplay of supply and demand. 

How refreshing that young people are not bombarded with advertising telling them they need booze to gave a good time. Living here, you would never have any idea that the country supplies the world with that supreme party drink, Absolut Vodka. Consumption is ticking downwards, and fewer than 3 percent of Swedes drink every day

When I see those regret boxes, part of me wants to scream: “Regrets?! No way! It’s been a hard week, let me get wasted in peace.” But the boxes are the price I have to pay for the comforting knowledge that, in this aspect at least, Swedish society takes responsibility for its citizens’ welfare. I don’t like it, but I accept that it is necessary. It is not ideal, but it works. 

David Crouch is the author of Almost Perfekt: How Sweden Works and What Can We Learn From It. He is a freelance journalist and a lecturer in journalism at Gothenburg University.

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