I am in full recovery after a couple of cappucinos
and a meal from a street kiosk that sells raw herring,
"Dutch sushi." Man, that's good eating.
Out shopping, a task I used to loathe until I
deepened my accquaintance with industrial design
into a full-scale, raging, senseless passion.
Now I know that every commercial product,
even the shabbiest, has some kind of story.
Tragic ones, quite often.
Spent the morning in Dutch design shops, finding
that they had infallibly run out of the stuff I
considered to be the coolest items. A real
credit to an educated taste!
Marcel Wanders lives here, you know.
A guy who once made a rock-solid chair out of draped rope.
Marcel Wanders, the Man, the Legend, The Wacky Dutch Guy
This morning I saw a lamp encased entirely in
a solid block of lucite and a pen that bends
in your hand. Why is there no catchphrase for
"Dutch Ingenuity"? These people are LIVING
IN A SWAMP, for heaven's sake. The streets
are made out of sand, and yet they spend all
time deftly chipping other people's diamonds
and repackaging other people's chocolate
and coffee. And you confront the Dutch with these
stark facts of their astonishing existence
and all they do is sort of mutter and grin. God
bless 'em, sometimes I think they have the
only real civilization on earth.
