In the initial couple of minutes of Holiday, the irritatingly moderate consume of an element make a big appearance by Dutch movie producer Isabella Eklöf, its impossible courageous woman, Sascha, played by rising performer Victoria Carmen Sonne, gazes at her appearance in a changing area reflect. Clad in a white, one-piece maillot, her went away dyed lengths, dull thick foreheads, and chipped pink nails in plain view, she grins, at that point snickers, as though somebody has recently paid her a compliment. At first glance, she is playing an adult, and thinking whether to purchase the bathing suit and the combine of plastic confection shading outlines that so superbly coordinate her gel tips. Underneath it, however, remains the premonition feeling that she is thinking about swearing off the way of life out and out, uncertain of the decisions that drove her on this Turkish excursion with her medication master sweetheart and his hoodlum companions. Rather, she goes to make the buy—however lamentably, her charge card is declined.
“Sascha isn’t a lovely lady,” says Sonne, 23, talking via telephone a week ago. “She’s as yet endeavoring to make sense of it, through orange lipstick and pink nail clean . . . she’s playing all the more a ladylike lady than she really is.” For the part, Sonne embraced her character’s inclinations for “glitz y glitz,” by rubbing shoulders with the solarium-going customer base (“phony tans, counterfeit lashes, counterfeit nails,” she says). “In Danish magazines, you will run over a specific sort of Scandinavian excellence standard,” she says, refering to the all-normal, no cosmetics look that numerous Danes are known for. “Be that as it may, as a general rule, that [look] speaks to few ladies in Denmark, and it’s my activity [as an actress] to see a wide range of individuals.”
It’s not all done for the sake of research, however. Of late, Sonne has been investing a considerable measure of energy in the area of Copenhagen called Freetown Christiania, a green group inside the city that was first settled by radicals in the ’70s and is known for its craft exhibitions, music scenes, and free lodging, the last of which brings about an a dodgy road or two, she says, yet where the best veggie lover eatery is found. “It’s called Morgenstedet, which converts into ‘The Morning Place,’ despite the fact that they’re open throughout the day,” she chuckles. “They make the best custom made chai tea.” And now and again, despite the fact that Sascha isn’t the sort to get facials or excellence medications—”we would foul up my nail clean after each nail trim, my eyeshadow after a considerable measure of time in the cosmetics seat, to make sure she didn’t look consummate,” she says—Sonne has been known to treat herself to a hammam scour at the practical bathhouse Sofiebadet. “I believe it’s been there, fundamentally, everlastingly,” she says of the Copenhagen establishment which initially opened its entryways in 1909.
Concerning a stunner schedule that is particularly Sonne’s? “I have one facial cream by Beaute Pacifique, and that is it,” she says. “I’m a do-it-without anyone else’s help sort of young lady. I paint my own particular nails, trim my own hair, and select the least expensive dye color at the store. What’s more, I absolutely never fill in my underlying foundations, chiefly on the grounds that I need to color [my hair] constantly, so there is no reason for doing touch-ups between films.” A snappy hunt through her Instagram, and it’s unmistakable the performer, who is frequently seen in Danish outlines by Freya Dalsjo, Shila Gaonkar, and Saks Potts, has wore numerous shades for the sake of dramatization: ebony, dark red, blanch blonde. “My companions ridicule me in light of the fact that, now and again, my pig tail will be blonde and the highest point of my hair will be brunette,” she says of her common shading. “Be that as it may, for me, I’ll do anything for the part. What’s more, generally, executives will request that I keep my foundations [when I am blonde], in light of the fact that it includes more character.” Anything else that may, maybe, drop out of standard Danish excellence rehearses? “I despise biking. I might be the main Copenhagen individual who doesn’t bicycle.”