The Tripod

Located directly left of Amsterdam's Central Station is the multi-tiered bicycle garage. That's right, a garage, with many levels, and specially designed ramps, made to fit some 7,000 bikes. That doesn't include the several hundred parked haphazardly outside of the garage, the very ones I trip on each time I go into and out of the ticket office. How does one find their bike in such a mayhem, when really, all bikes look the same? It only takes a few days here in the Venice of the North to realize that bikes are a part of the Dutch identity, and people outfit their bikes in a similar way that hipsters choose their own style of dark rimmed glasses. Far away, exactly the same, close up, how dare you not see the difference?

For one of my classes here in Amsterdam, I decided to undertake a research project on Dutch fashion. While this seemed like a good idea at the time, the Dutch fashion world is rather unheard of and people don't seem to have a style that is all that 'Dutch' (I mean let's be honest, this is the country that invented the clog; it would be hard to make the argument that they are a group of fashionistas). What would make for a much more telling study is to look at their bike decorations, seemingly the only area in which people are not only stylistically individual, but in which they are at all fashionable, period.

First of all, this amount of décor can vary greatly. There is the mere fake flower on the handlebars to the entire "pimp my ride" look of neon baskets, sparkly seat covers, and little plastic balls that slide up and down the spokes with every rotation, making for not only a colorful but also a very noisy bike ride. Then there is the entire wagon that can cart a whole family at one time (and yes, I have seen this - five children). I'm assured that if this were to happen in the United States, not only would the bike be pulled over, witnesses would immediately call Child Services and have the mother arrested. How dare there not be seatbelts in the wagon? Another important aspect to take note of bike culture in Amsterdam: no helmets. I suppose it would be cramping one's style if matching pink and white polka-dotted saddlebags, seat covers, front basket, and fenders had to be ridden by someone wearing a helmet. I guess helmets are embarrassing? But really, falling off of your bike and dying has the potential of being much more embarrassing … something they might wish to think about. Nothing's less fashionable than an enormous wound on the epidermis (something I can attest to after a huge crash followed by a brief stay in the Dutch gasthuis [hospital]).

My favorite part of the Dutch bike fashion is the art of looking effortless (and even glamorous) while using the bike as something that has the ability of carrying as much as a Hummer stretch limo. Today, I passed a woman carrying an eight-foot ladder on her shoulder. Then, cycling down the canals, I saw a bright red bike outfitted with silver metallic details, several baskets and matching striped bags, boxes, and baskets. The owner was a woman wearing heels, tights, a large flouncy skirt and big jacket to match. What caught me was not just that she was able to bike so fluidly in un-ripped tights, a skirt that was not catching in the wheel, and stilettos that didn't cause a big fuss at every stop light because they were caught in a cobblestone (a situation I have encountered far too frequently), but that she was talking on the phone while taking bites of an apple and still managing to carry an umbrella, three shopping bags, a basket full of Dutch tulips, a toddler, and two dogs; and was riding in perfect fashion down the entire canal.

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