The Feminine in Amsterdam

I had the once in a life time opportunity of reuniting with one of my closest and oldest friends in the city of Amsterdam. She was radiant wearing all black as she met me outside her apartment buildings cafe, Mamas. Her room was in full bloom with large bundles of tulips scattered into a variety of make-shift vases. She shared a spot on her bike and took me to a restaurant as we poured out the details of our lives over red wine and chocolate cake. It was Valentines Day and we cheers’d to self love and friendship.

Amsterdam is a city who’s age does not show, feeling youthful and energetic and a little enigmatic. It’s history is integrated throughout but like patchwork on quilt you cannot quite tell where it begins or ends.I was fascinated by city in many ways and I was proud of how seamlessly Claire fit into its folds, as though it was where she had always belonged. The city was feminine. The blonde middle aged woman at the food stand who presumably shared ownership of the business with her friend who was instructing a team of young men (presumably their children), two mothers and their sons selling garlic sausages and grainy mustard to piles of tourists and locals alike. She had a thick Dutch accent and she was gentle and kind when she told us she couldn’t take credit and told us to skip the line and find her when we returned with cash. Forgiving. The MOCO museum is branded with a lovely shade of pink. The several concept shops which boast a variety of products for every type of woman. The way the canals live alongside the crowded streets. I never felt a moment of unsafeness, while in many cities the company of only females can lead to a general sense of unease as two young women are often the subject of catcalling. A city where it seems that nothing is illegal but which no one abuses. I purchased a ring, the woman behind the desk asking if it was a gift to which I replied no, it was for myself and to which she searched for the words in English “well those are the best gifts aren’t they” and winked as though this was a supplement for a question mark.

To share a few days in this city with a friend who embodies all the ideas associated with strong, resilient women, I was left in awe. We encountered several markets filled with trinkets and flowers and produce which enable people to support local with ease. Introducing ourselves to young women adorned with tote bags boasting the same university and sharing interests and tiny bits of ourselves. Speaking to shop owners who spoke honestly and softly and passionately. Amsterdam is art and youth and femininity. Learning who my best friend would invite to her home for a dinner party (anyone dead or alive) and planning the details of what she would serve the guests. We discussed this in a room that was bathed with pink walls, pillows and lounge seats.

When thinking of Amsterdam, one cannot forget the open blinds in every window, allowing you to look in and see shelves brimming with books and coffee tables with mugs scattered across them. Or perhaps one might see a cat napping on a window seat blending in with plush cushions. The city is an open book, fostering positivity and for me feminine energy. I was reminded by the sweet little stores, of 5th Street at home, and the small businesses boasting beautiful products and my desire to one day own my own little brick and mortar. Maybe it will find its address somewhere in Amsterdam.