An American Hairstylist in Amsterdam

Throughout the day I hear the soft, quick sounds of KLM jets landing at Schiphol Airport. Our apartment is located in Amstelveen, and incoming flights frequently pass overhead, delivering people who are either visiting or returning home.

By Dutch standards, the apartment could be considered rather large. It's the ideal size for a couple who need extra space for a home office, a yoga corner, and room for guests who may visit.

At the moment, it looks like the world's most comfortable bachelor pad. A vintage rug and two Helinox outdoor chairs sit in front of a television left behind by the former tenants. No couch. No dining table. No furniture, really. It's easier to buy furniture than ship it, so until our orders arrive in the next week or so, this is what we have.

The kitchen is slowly growing and filling with new pans, pots, dried herbs, and all the priority cooking supplies. Downstairs sits the shell of a bedroom. A stocked closet stands beside a barren room containing only a mattress, still resting on the torn plastic that held it together during delivery, with power cords stretching from the wall toward the bed.

Visually, it appears empty, but the love and desire for the experiences of life fill this house, transforming it into a home. The present is nothing but a story to share in the future, and what a great story this is turning out to be.

Standing in this mostly unfurnished apartment, listening to planes descend into Schiphol, I keep finding myself thinking about the question I've been asked a thousand times:

"Why did you decide to move to the Netherlands?"

Reflecting back, the seed was planted in 2019, when I first left my home country of the United States and went to India. I spent a month in Karla and Karnataka for yogic purposes, staying in Ashrams and hotels, drinking up all the beauty the country has to offer. It was exhilarating and terrifying. It began being jet lagged and trying to haggle a ride from the International airport to a smaller local airport, all while forgetting that I didn't do any currency exchange at the airport... The trip ended in a resort receiving a massage on a wooden table wearing nothing but a paper loincloth and gallons of warm Aryuvedic oils.

India opened a door. Once I stepped through it, I couldn't stop exploring. Costa Rica, Mexico, Norway, England, Portugal, Japan, Singapore, and eventually the Netherlands all became chapters in a much larger story. Travel has taught me so much, it has been the inspiration for my life. Beauty, meaning, and love is found all around us, it is in us, how we reflect on ourselves, what we've experienced, and how we respond to the world around us, it says so much about us. Do we run away from the things we do not understand, or let curiosity explore the depths of the unknown? I've been pulled towards the unknown since India, the fear of what lies ahead is what keeps me alive. To bear witness and to absorb all that is, how does one not find meaning in such a complexly diverse atmosphere that is our tiny globe? 

To live, that is why I moved. To be alive, to move, to surround myself with so much unfamiliarity, to not only write another small chapter but to begin a new book. We have one life to live, there were a hundred reasons not to move, but in this one life we could, so we did. 

Of course, moving isn't just about philosophy and adventure. Eventually real life begins again. Bills need to be paid, routines need to be established, and for me that meant returning behind the chair. It has been roughly two weeks since we arrived, obviously still in the honeymoon phase, yet somehow it already feels like home. Maybe it's the rhythm of daily life, the people I've met, or simply the excitement of building something new. Perhaps it could also be by how busy I've been in the salon. It felt like the city was welcoming me before I had even learned how to navigate it.

A little willow hair space, is a small, three chair salon across the street from Artis (the local zoo) and on the same block as the Holocaust Memorial Museum. It is a highly populated area full of tourists and locals who have lived there their entire lives. The first day in the salon I had one haircut scheduled, but two walk-ins. The next day I had a full day, half where regular clients and the other half new clients. This trend continued, a few booked days and a few half booked. I was not expecting this... I was expecting to start from zero, that's how it was in the United States, I had to hustle, hand out cards to anyone, Instagram posts, free services, whatever I needed to do to get people in the chair. It has become very apparent that the hairstylist advertising culture is very different, or even selling services or goods to anyone here is very different.

People here don't like to be solicited. I was told, "Don't hand out business cards randomly, only do it if someone inquires about it. If you're a good hairstylist you'll become busy quickly." The only people I've seen soliciting their services is religious groups who have their "Find Jesus" pop-ups outside of select train stations or the missionaries knocking on our door. Even when shopping, customer service workers are friendly and helpful, but there doesn't seem to be a pressure of sales that I experience in the States. People are friendly, helpful, but won't be pushy for a sale (excluding high tourist areas, even there it's not as pushy as most sales reps in the States).

But I digress...

The clients I've seen have been young kids wanting trendy artistic haircuts with undercuts and long mullets, to people in their late 80's wanting a touch up on their cut or bold colors to contrast their stark white hair. It has been exciting to have a large range of clients, from young to old, local and tourists, various styles, cuts, and colors. The diversity of the hair is a reflection of the diversity of the city. The conversations are warm, welcoming, connecting with people like myself who relocated from another country, or talking to people born and raised here and learning new Dutch words or restaurants to explore. To share as much or as little as I want, to establish healthy professional boundaries with my work place and the clients I serve.

Going from a business owner back to a hairstylist has been refreshing. Don't mistake me, I loved the salon in Salt Lake City that I had for three years, Omni salon + wellness. It's also nice to have clients only schedule online or calling the salon. To no longer be tethered to a phone for clients who like to text, message on social media, or email. I go to the salon for my working hours, do hair, and go home. Another benefit of a little willow salon is that they don't have a large social media presence. We all do amazing hair in the salon, our work speaks for itself and word of mouth, creating a sense of community with our neighbors, and happy clients keep us busy. I'm relieved to work in an environment where I don't need to feel like I'm wasting my time and energy on social media platforms that rarely generate long standing patronage. I'm thrilled to be working with hairstylists from all around the world with so much experience where we all learn from each other.

As we enter our third week in Amsterdam I wonder what exciting things will I learn this week? What Dutch words will I learn or mispronounce in conversation? How many clients will I see? 

The apartment is still mostly empty. There are empty boxes we need to break down and recycle, furniture to assemble, and countless Dutch words to learn. Yet somehow it already feels like home. We've only just begun this book, and I have no idea how the next chapters will unfold, but I know they'll be filled with love, adventure, and stories worth telling.

Until next time,

Daniel Jacob Hill