The Girls of Scandinavia

The Swedish flicka, the finnish tyttö, the Danish pige and the Norwegian pike have won reputations as being among the most desirable women on earth—for their incandescent sensuality, their feline grace and their all-embracing sexual independence. But can they be more than image? Hans Christian Andersen put it succinctly in one wry reference to his tales: "It is all," he wrote, "perfectly true." Despite cultural, economic and—to a lesser degree—ethnic differences among the four countries, the girls of Scandinavia remain the female embodiment of spiritual freedom and a compelling zest for life. The climate of their subcontinent can be harsh and forbidding; and, in this century at least, the region has been occasionally visited by the harsher realities of war. But through it all, the Scandinavian girl has never lost her warmth—or her femininity. The wellsprings of her unique spirit and the subtle variations it adopts in each of the four Scandinavian countries are well worth examining. For an in-depth guide to the Nordic girls' urban environs—replete with tips on customs, foods, hotels and hangouts—the reader contemplating a Scandinavian trip need look on farther than last month's Playboy's Guide to a Continental Holiday, by our well-traveled Travel Editor, Len Deighton, who covered both Stockholm and Copenhagen, as well as the highlights of the Swedish and Danish hinterlands, (text continued on page 134) in the first of his monthly travel features for Playboy.

The bachelor who has some weeks to devote to his Scandinavian holiday might choose Finland as an appropriate commencement address. To most Americans, no Scandinavian girl is less known than the Finnish tyttö (pronounced teuta). Above a somewhat fatalistic spirit— which may derive from Finland's austere topography, its isolation and its involvement in numerous wars with Russia—she exhibits a temperament that ranges from ice-blue introspection in the winter months to exuberant gaiety in the bright Finnish summer. Day after day during that sybaritic season, the Finnish miss parties till dawn, yet shows up fresh and rested for her job—whether as a shop-girl in a Helsinki boutique, a designer for Arabia, Finland's famed china-and-porcelain concern, or a bit-part actress for her country's TV network. She has a strong affinity for the foreign male, in part, she says, because native swains are apt to tipple to a point where they're more somnolent than amorous, but mostly because females outnumber males in Finland 13 to 10. Still, she must be approached with finesse. Her morality is based on a simple creed: respect for herself. Accordingly, she chooses her partners with some care. She wants each amatory experience to be both precious and memorable, even if—as can often happen in a brief encounter with a visiting stranger—the affair generates more heat than warmth.

The Finnish woman was the first in Europe to attain full political status, having won the franchise in 1906. Since this achievement of equality, she has entered the man's world of business, finance and politics and, more often than not, continues her own career after marriage. In keeping with the spirit of independent accomplishment such life styles generate, she makes up her own mind about sex. Often she will regard a man with a look of frank appraisal that is refreshing in its straightforwardness.

The typical tyttö thrives on Spartan virtues. She tends to eschew some of the more cloying comforts of the Western world for the more rigorous life of the great outdoors. Her physical and emotional involvement with nature springs from the very roots of her being and may account for her Finnish streak of sisu—a sinewy toughness of spirit that rejects defeat. The Finnish girl proudly proclaims, "I want to be alive—to try everything." With such a female, the resourceful male visitor will have little difficulty making contact. The duration of the liaison will then depend on his own skills. Wealth, fame and male authority mean little to her. Charm, passion and virility mean a great deal.

Among the more prestigious meeting places in Finland's capital city of Helsinki—reached via Copenhagen on an open-end round-trip ticket from New York in the regular season for $665—is the Espilä. The dance floor is ample, the floorshow artfully libidinous, and the management has thoughtfully installed telephones at each table for instant communication with promising prospects elsewhere in the room. Having selected a date, our man might escort her to the oddly named, Oriental-flavored Rivoli Restaurant, where the pièce de résistance is a very un-Oriental plateful of Russian caviar, washed down with a chilled glass of Koskenkorva, the vodkalike national drink. An agreeable after-hours rendezvous is the elegant M-Club, a cavernous night spot eminently suitable for close dancing and a toast of Jaloviina, a flavorsome local brandy. The bar on the top floor of the cosmopolitan Vaakuna Hotel—a good place to stay, incidentally—affords a panoramic view of the city and its illustrious modern architecture.

Around midnight, the ideal Finnish night on the town will move to a private home with a party in progress. If the place boasts a sauna, it's likely that at some point in the early morning, this will become the focal point for a coed romp. In any case, the morning after any Finnish revel should certainly include the ubiquitous bath's recuperative ritual—a body-refreshing rite of near-religious proportions, Not surprisingly, a chance meeting—in a sauna or elsewhere—will occasionally flare into a romance of more than passing interest. In such circumstances, the starkly beautiful, lake-dappled Finish countryside offers a plenitude of opportunities for sharing joy in quiet solitude.

Refugees from the cosmopolitan din may find peace on one of the many rocky islands that make up the Saaristo (archipelago), only a short ride by white-bowed excursion boat from Helsinki. Or they may choose to motor into the green heart of Finland, past steel-blue lakes and forests of slender birch trees, for a lavish crayfish feast. During the summer, no visit to Finland is complete without a private-plane excursion to the magnificent expanses of northern Lapland, where the midnight sun shows ceaselessly for 45 days. Here, as nowhere else, the foreign visitor might glimpse the Finnish girl's total involvement with her primitive land, an assertion of her earthiness and her fascination with the ebb and flow of nature itself.

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The Swedish girl, living in Scandinavia's most highly industrialized nation, is more in tune with the complexities of urban life. This doesn't mean she's unaware of her radiant sensuality. Social welfare in Scandinavia may well constitute what its people call "the middle way" between capitalism and communism; but the flicka is still an extremist—a creature capable of chilly dignity and fiery hedonism, of maddening reticence and blunt outspokenness. She, too, is greatly attracted to the foreign male, again in part because Swedish women outnumber men, but also because the hard-working Swedish male, in reality as well as in the films of Ingmar Bergman, has a penchant for analyzing life down to its stark, dry bones, in the process sometimes overlooking life's fleshly joys. "Swedish men do not deserve their women," an Italian professor, visiting the country, observed not long ago. He was understandably outraged after observing a line of beautiful Swedish girls sitting in a Stockholm night club, waiting in vain for some Swedish male to invite them to dance. Small wonder that the Swedish girl frequently seeks other sources of divertissement. As the professor's nightclub experience confirms, the opportunities for establishing rapport are countless. A simple compliment can work near miracles in a country where even the best-looking girls are accustomed to being ignored; but a foreigner should avoid the glib panegyric that may be misinterpreted as a clumsy ploy. Sincerity is all-important to the Swedish girl. Having recognized this and having acted accordingly, our man will have his choice of a dazzlingly variegated roster of cultural, culinary and recreational establishments—described by Deighton last month—in which to embellish a friendship.

The Swedish girl is drawn toward Stockholm all the way from the green flat-lands of southern Skåne to the mountain-spiked expanse of Lapland in the north. She may choose a glamorous career as a stewardess for the Scandinavian Airlines System—which draws its trim and perky personnel from Sweden, Denmark and Norway—or she may seek her fortune and fulfillment in the proliferating Swedish film and television industries or in the fertile field of Scandinavian furniture and fashion design.

In the summertime, an all-too-fleeting episode in the north, the Swedish girl's mood of wintry reflection gives way to overflowing effervescence. From mid-teens on, unmarried Swedish girls and boys are accustomed to getting away from it all, together, without fear of stigma or parental opprobrium. A summer excursion may be as simple as an overnight trip to the idyllic province of Dalarna, a three-hour drive from Stockholm; or it may involve a three-day boat trip through the Göta Canal, the meandering, lock-studded waterway that flows through meadows and yellow cornfields to the craggy inlets and jagged islets near Göteborg, on the western coast. Or a Swedish miss and her escort may venture into the brooding evergreen forests of the north.

(continued on page 182) Girls of Scandinavia(continued from page 134)

The Swedish girl hates to be chained, either to her environment or to another human being. Often, even if she is married, she will take a vacation by herself in order to sample—however briefly—a different life style. Jealousy and proprietary interest are not nearly so meaningful to her as they are to women in most other Western countries. In her mind, a love relationship with another human being is closely linked to a sense of responsibility, healthy understanding and mutual acceptance. She is, above all, a proud, free spirit. She will get along best with those who respect her freedom.

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A Stockholm-to-Copenhagen jet hop—or, better, the car-and-ferry trip south through Göteborg and Malmö recommended by Deighton last month—involves a definite, if subtle, change of ambiance. Compared with her Swedish sister, the Danish girl is somewhat less purposeful. She takes life in stride but doesn't try to shape it to her own ends. Gay, irrepressible, zealous—she is also the hapless victim of a peculiarly Danish concept called hygge, a way of life that connotes warmth and coziness within four walls. Her amatory escapades are sometimes less the fruition of romantic desire than the wish to be snugly comfortable, removed from strife and unpleasantness. This preoccupation with hygge complements a vaguely felt sense of melancholy that the Danes do share—no matter what the guidebooks might tell you—with their legendary Prince Hamlet. Yet there is little about the tall, leggy girl, pedaling her bicycle down a winding Copenhagen street with the sun shining on her blonde hair, that suggests Weltschmerz. Like all her Scandinavian sisters, she wears little or no make-up, for she needs none. Her clothes are cut simply and stylishly in bold, solid hues that seem to emphasize her artless self-assurance. The visiting American may find her as fresh and unaffected as an ingenuous child; he must get to know her a bit before he can see that her outgoing and guileless good humor sometimes carries a sardonic edge.

Copenhagen itself, aptly called the Paris of the North, is a seductive city of over 1,000,000 people. There are more restaurants per square foot than anywhere except Paris, and nearly as great a concentration of night clubs as in Hamburg. Finding agreeable female company is roughly as taxing as scribbling "Kunne De taenke Dem en drink?" ("How about a drink?") on a napkin. Again, Copenhagen's better scribbling spots—along with the other attractions of this fascinating city—were outlined in these pages last month by Deighton.

The sexual climate of Copenhagen is almost as enlightened as American myth would have it. Surprisingly, despite the copious amateur competition, there is some prostitution, not only in Copenhagen but in all the Scandinavian capitals. Copenhagen has no law against the world's oldest profession, though ordinances do require that a young lady have more conventional work as well. The inquiring traveler might find himself in the company of a lovely kindergarten teacher or a sweet-faced secretary who is using this ancient means to augment her income. But it should not take long to discover if a relationship is to be strictly business. That discovery made, the partnership should sensibly be dissolved: In the lush hunting grounds of Copenhagen, we doubt that many energetic travelers will wish to forgo the pleasures of the chase.

The Danish girl's open attitude toward sex must be viewed in the context of the permissive society she inhabits. Nudie magazines abound in newsstands and kiosks—not only in Copenhagen but in other Danish towns—without interference from the police. Vending machines offering condoms stand in open view on the streets, and any schoolgirl of 14 or over is entitled to free instruction by the school physician in the use of contraceptive devices. Censorship of movies—including such sex epics as Vilgot sjöman's recent Swedish flick I Am Curious—Yellow, the coital sections of which were shown on Denmark's national TV—has all but disappeared. Daily newspapers in Copenhagen freely dispense medical advice about specific sexual functions, and photos of unadorned femininity often find their way into the daily press. So it's not surprising that the Danish girl approaches sex with unself-conscious ingenuousness. To her, the protracted and widely publicized debate about the role of sex in a modern society is entirely academic—and a battle between old prejudices and new ideas. While she certainly casts her lot with the forces of change, the entire issue seems almost irrelevant to her own fulfilled existence.

Unlike the young American woman, for whom a job is often just a lull between school and marriage, the Danish girl is adamant in her quest for complete financial independence—often even after marriage. The most prestigious jobs for girls are in the Danish television industry, which employs a bevy of dulcet-voiced distaff announcers. Slightly down the status ladder are the girls who work as magazine fashion coordinators and photographer's models. But even if she goes the standard shopgirl or secretary route, a pige (pronounced pee-ga) may well have more space in her office than in her apartment. In Copenhagen, as in Scandinavia's other capitals, there is a very real housing shortage. Many young women manage to crowd into small pads in the bohemian section of Christianshavn, an ancient part of the city crisscrossed by canals. Perhaps the lack of elbowroom is the source of her abiding love for the gently rolling countryside. A companion will find her eager, from spring through autumn, to forsake the city and venture into the world of nature, preferably by bicycle. Castle hopping in the country, which is a favorite weekend pastime, is apt to begin at the copper-roofed Kronborg Castle in Hamlet-hallowed Elsinore.Day-trippers also make it a point to take in the majestic, moat-girdled Fredensborg Castle, which for centuries has been the summer residence of Danish royalty. True to the Viking spirit of her forebears, the Danish girl—whether princess or commoner—relishes the water. She seems her happiest gracing the deck of a sleek sailboat or letting the waves along the Jutland coast roll against her tanned body.

The separate-but-equal vacationing doctrine is somewhat less prevalent in Denmark than in Sweden, but the young Danish wife does not categorically shun an occasional outing on her own—and democratically expects her husband to enjoy the same privilege. Matrimony in Denmark quite often is welded by mutual consent rather than by magistrate's oath. If both partners work, the Danish tax system makes cohabitation a decided advantage, and progeny have the same legal rights as if the pledge of allegiance had been taken. The tentacles of the welfare state reach deep into Danish society, but the Danish female and her partner—no matter what their relationship—enjoy a sense of privacy and self-respect that few countries can offer.

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The desire for privacy is even more pronounced in the Norwegian girl, perhaps dictated by the pervasive sense of sheer remoteness in her craggy, fjord-nicked country, which is bisected just north of its mid-point by the Arctic Circle. The pike (pronounced pee-ka) is less prone to brooding than her Swedish sister and somewhat less an overt pleasure seeker than her Danish cousin. Most remarkably, she is usually devoid of complexes, accepting the vicissitudes of life with grace and self-reliance.

Her interest in foreigners is slightly less consuming than that of her Scandinavian sisters, and a tourist who lacks the sporting instinct ought to head elsewhere. But if he's prepared to partake of the outdoor life—fishing, skiing, hiking, biking—or at least makes an honest show of interest, he will find her a willing, even eager, companion. Rigors that would leave less hearty individuals exhausted seem to revitalize the Norwegian girl. After a long day of skiing or hiking, she'll proceed to squeeze every ounce of enjoyment out of evening and night.

During the winter months, the Oslo-based belle spends much of her free time at home. But in the summertime she blooms, swept up in the crosscurrents of city life. She starts the evening early, for Oslo's night life is short and hectic, organized within the confines of the liquor monopoly's decree that no alcohol be served in public after 11:45. Unless he has already established liaison with a pike, the traveler might warm up at the Tellefanten, a cozy rendezvous whose female clientele on any evening may be properly regarded as willing to entertain a well-intentioned male gesture. To show his sincerity, our man might tempt his companion with dinner at Blom's, where a course of fenalår (cured leg of mutton) or rakörret (cured trout) goes admirably well with a glass of Norwegian beer and a chilled potion of Löiten, a remarkably smooth but diabolically deceptive aquavit. The Rainbow Room is a well-regarded night spot.

In a city whose night life is restricted, gate crashing at private parties is commonplace. With the party spirit running high by the time the pubs close, your chances of rejection at the door are minimal, especially if you're accompanied by a striking young woman. Much of la dolce vita is to be found in the area around famed Frogner Park; should the night turn into morning, leave the party for a stroll there: The place is unique. Here the contemporary Norwegian sculptor Gustav Vigeland—a Nordic Rodin—created some 155 statuary groupings of intertwined male and female bodies. The works, centered on a 57-foot-high monolith of immense suggestiveness, seem sometimes to honor a visionary marriage of obesity and sexuality. In toto, the statues are a remarkably warm expression of one man's powerful humanism.

During the summer, so the local saying goes, the Norwegians fish and make love; in the wintertime, the streams freeze up. It's common for young couples, even if they're just friends, to sleep together, and not simply because it's warmer that way. The notion of post-teen virginity is considered preposterous, although one wise man in Oslo claims to have heard about a real virgin living in the remote and isolated northland.

Nowhere does her amorous proclivity come bubbling to the surface more than when the Norwegian girl is on a hiking or skiing excursion. The countryside is dotted with charming, secluded log cabins, hostelries and cottages. A trip by high-speed electric train and car from Oslo takes you in a few hours to the Gausdal or Rondane mountain hotels in Gudbrandsdalen, some 300 kilometers north of Oslo; both are strikingly handsome resort hotels offering incomparable opportunities for privacy and quiet contemplation, if that's your wont. A toast before a roaring fire in the rough openhearth fireplace should, with any kind of charm, lead to even closer communion.

In such a setting, the Norwegian girl shakes off the physical and spiritual inhibitions of city life, and her true Scandinavian nature emerges. She feels no need to live up to an image or a reputation; like any Scandinavian girl, she's uniquely herself, acting and reacting as her will dictates, going where her desires take her. For the Scandinavian girl, sex and sin are unrelated. When she gives, she gives freely and willingly, bent on satisfying only herself and her newfound companion. Her society is fundamentally egalitarian and strives above all to attack inequity and injustice without sacrificing personal freedom. And, to a very large measure, it succeeds. It's also a compassionate society, whose principal aim is to achieve the greatest happiness for the greatest number—a progressive, permissive subcontinent encouraging artistic expression, insisting on individual liberty and tolerating a breath-taking range of sexual expression. It is an old social order, but its ideas are young, its people as secure as any on earth—and its girls as beautiful and as free as its landscape.