Moomin Fairy Tale

This year, Stockmann’s fairytale window draws its inspiration from the 80th anniversary of the Moomins. The collaboration between Stockmann and Tove Jansson goes all the way back to the 1950s, when the beloved Moomin characters appeared in the department store for the very first time. Join us on a journey into the world of the Moomins!

It was winter in Moominvalley. Buried under meters of snow, the Moominhouse was sleeping and dreaming of spring. As everyone knows, moomins hibernate, sleeping through the winter with their bellies full of fir needles. The only sounds in the big house were some quiet sniffing and snoring, and the tranquil ticking of the wall clock in the drawing room as snowflakes quietly covered the valley.

But then another sound found its way into the Moomin family’s dreams. A chilling voice, from somewhere far away. It was the Groke, lamenting as she slithered through the forest. She was as icy cold as the snow sparkling on the branches of the dark trees, a huge grey shadow of loneliness. Where the Groke advanced, the ground grew colder, if that was even possible; a blue icy surface covered by a white mist of chill. The Groke’s wailing rose high above the trees, and a whisper of horror passed through the branches. She was very lonely.

In the Moominhouse, the Moomins woke up one by one and lit the kerosene lamps. The windows of the house cast warm squares of light across the snow.  After much groggy rummaging around, the Moomins concluded that it was impossible to go back to sleep, so they decided to make the best of the situation and throw a party.

The invitations were sent all over Moominvalley. Fillyjonks, whompers, gafsies and hemulens were equally surprised by the invitation – they were not used to the inhabitants of the Moominhouse being awake this time of year.

Moomintroll decided to deliver one of the invitations himself, as he sensed that one particular guest was not accustomed to receiving party invitations. He found her on the edge of the dark forest.

A cloud of frost surrounded her dark skirts, and her yellow eyes blinked in surprise as Moomintroll handed her a card that read, ‘Welcome to a winter party outside the Moominhouse. Everyone is welcome as they are. Contribute what you want.’

The Groke didn’t know what she could contribute, but she looked longingly at the card with a picture of the Moominhouse, shining its warm light. She was drawn to the light, and curious about what a party was, as she had never been to one before. But would she dare go to the Moominhouse? Others were often afraid of her.

Outside the Moominhouse, preparations for the party were well underway. Garlands were hung on the snow-covered tree branches, small snow lanterns were lit here and there, and Moominpappa was making a warm winter drink. He put in almonds and raisins, lotus juice, ginger, sugar and nutmeg flowers, one or two lemons and some rowan berry liqueur and was very pleased with the result.

Moominmamma was helped by Moomintroll and Sniff at the stove, from where wonderful scents wafted out over the snowdrifts. Guests from all corners of the valley began to arrive.

Soon the party was in full swing. Everyone ate, drank, and had a good time. Little My went sledging on an old silver tray she had found in the living room. Snorkmaiden practiced the choreography for a dance she was planning to perform, but it was very difficult to hop around in the deep snow. A hemulen wearing thick red mittens and a striped scarf approached the Moominhouse on skis.

When the moon rose above the blue mountains, Moominpappa took out his gramophone. Just as everyone had started dancing, a plaintive sound broke through the cheerful music. It was the Groke who had arrived. The smallest little creatures hurried to hide behind Moominmamma’s apron, but Moomintroll went to meet the Groke with a lantern in his hand. He knew from before that she liked to dance – in her own slightly wailing way – following the light in his hand and moving back and forth in a slow rocking motion… Moomintroll and the Groke made a zigzag pattern across the snow, and where the Groke’s dark skirts had glided, the ground sparkled with blue ice. ‘It’ll be a skating field’ Little My shouted excitedly.

And so it was – a little while later, the Groke’s dance had swept forth a shiny ice field where all the inhabitants of the valley skated around with great delight. They collided, fell over, and got up again – the most skilled did little pirouettes or jumps, all to the beat of the music from Moominpappa’s gramophone. On the edge of the crowd, the Groke swept back and forth, a little on the side, but taking part in the party.

Sometimes, when there is something unusual in the air, moomins can be awake in the middle of the winter and grokes can dance in the moonlight.