Katie Driscoll Writer
I write about film, art, culture, mental health and style for BBC Culture, BFI, Independent, the FT, The Skinny, NME, A Rabbit's Foot, Refinery29, Elephant and more...
Say hi: Katie.driscoll93@gmail.com
Fårö is an island that defies easy categorisation. After a train, a bus, a ferry and a car ride, I’m finally here, in Gotland, on this rugged and isolated outpost straddling the Baltic sea. It feels worlds away from Stockholm. Or any civilisation, for that matter. “You’ve arrived at the end of the earth” a French stranger says to me with a smile while waiting to board the ferry. Its atmosphere is permeated by the fact that one of the biggest Swedish cultural exports of all time lived and died on the island. It’s a place without a hospital, or a school, or a taxi, and only one small ICA supermarket, but has an abundance, for its size, of Michelin-style restaurants. There’s a small outdoor art gallery and an Americana junkyard cafe-restaurant that serves crepes and plays tunes from a jukebox, next door to a cliffside hotel.