dressing dutch

BY BEATRICE RICH

Do the Dutch do it better? THREAD’s Beatrice Rich explores the lessons she learnt about personal style following her year in the Netherlands.

When I first embarked upon my year abroad in Amsterdam last August, I had high expectations for achieving cultural immersion. I hoped that I would learn Dutch, and quickly ordered myself a rental bike subscription, setting myself the goal of making at least one new Dutch friend by the end of the first semester. 

Twelve months on, I realise that these objectives were somewhat misplaced; my Dutch language skills remain upsettingly subpar, I managed to exclusively befriend fellow international students, and I picked up an unfortunate injury which prevented me from cycling for the better half of the year. While this may appear a slightly disheartening reflection on my time in the Netherlands, there is one particular aspect of the Dutch lifestyle which I shall continue to embrace whole-heartedly: the people of Amsterdam know how to dress. 

Within a week of being in the city, I started to notice that those around me had the ability to look incredibly cool with what seemed like very minimal effort. It felt as if dressing well was an unspoken prerequisite for living there, that everyone had somehow unlocked a knack for personal style that I had yet to learn. Consequently, I became determined to identify the key elements of this Dutch approach to fashion, in the hopes that I might also develop the Amsterdam look before my return to the UK. 

Having dedicated a significant amount of time towards this agenda, I have discovered that the key to dressing Dutch is less about what you wear, and more about how you wear it. It transpires that Dutch Courage refers to more than just drinking culture; the citizens of Amsterdam dispense of their inhibitions in everyday life as well, disregarding the possible judgment of others and wearing outfits with complete self-assurance. Students strut into their seminars wearing heeled boots and mini skirts, or leather jackets and aviator sunglasses, with dressing down a seemingly foreign concept. Lecture halls could often be mistaken for the front row at Copenhagen fashion week, which is something I have yet to experience in Durham with its abundance of linen and palatinate-collared quarter-zips. 

Another crucial step in achieving this effortless personal style is the sustainability factor. Amsterdam is home to the IJ-Hallen, a monthly flea market which is the biggest in all of Europe, as well as the largest collection of vintage shops that I have ever seen. With so 

much access to second-hand, it is remarkably easy to avoid the big fast-fashion labels which have come to dominate today’s consumer culture. This is not to say that popular trends are avoided entirely - the “clean girl” aesthetic is one that has been absolutely mastered by young Dutch women, who are partial to a slickback bun and ballet flats - but it is often the sprawling vintage markets under metro bridges or on industrial estates where the more timeless and unique pieces can be found. 

All of my favourite items purchased during my year abroad are pre-loved, found either at one of these markets or at Episode, a chain of vintage shops with locations across the Netherlands. As a result, I have a new appreciation for how easy it can be to integrate

sustainability into your wardrobe, and I like to think that my personal style has improved as a result. I no longer obsessively refresh the Zara website with the turn of every season to find a trending jacket or pair of jeans, but would rather peruse local charity shops to find pieces which promise longevity as well as providing the desired look. 

Underlying its citizens’ impeccable fashion taste is Amsterdam’s reputation as one of the most progressive cities in Europe. With the right to personal freedom and self-expression at the heart of the city’s politics, it is hardly a surprise that residents feel unrestricted in their manner of dress. Fashion is driven by identity, and Amsterdam provides the ideal climate for personal style to thrive in its celebration of diversity. 

While I feel a deep sense of despair that my European adventure has come to an end, it is a great comfort that I have been able to take a piece (or several pieces, in fact) of my time in Amsterdam with me. I have learnt that the key to the effortless style of the Dutch lies beyond the clothes themselves, instead representing the confidence and individuality of those who are wearing them. It is this sense of fashion-invoked empowerment that I hope to carry with me when I return to Durham this Autumn, and the next time someone compliments my outfit, I will look forward to the apology of “I’m sorry, I got it in a vintage shop in Amsterdam.”