Amsterdam, March 27, 2020
I'm on the platform of a subway station and I feel lost. Something makes me lose my balance and I fall on the tracks. The fall doesn't stop immediately but continues beyond and through the cold tracks covered in soot. It continues in the dark for an indefinite period of time. It could be a moment, or it could be a year.
All the big shopping streets have the same smell. I don't want to say stench because I don't want to pass judgment. I’m simply trying to analyze the ingredients of this smell that is unique yet very common to the places and shops I’ve visited. If I try to make a list of the typical elements of these places maybe I can figure it out. The first that springs to mind is the smell of plastic emanating from the mountains of Made in China polyester and polyamide clothing and accessories. In a random order there is the smell of dust that’s accumulated in the darkest corners and on the highest shelves; the smell of air conditioners, which sometimes become clogged; the odor of damp cardboard boxes piled up in the backyard; the acrid smell of the feet of all those people who are trying on new shoes; the smell of well-worn shoes; the smell of skincare products; the smell of plywood and of low-cost building materials; the smell of sugar, preservatives and sweeteners; the smell of French fries, fried food in general, sweat, physical and mental stress caused by traffic jams; the smell of pollution, cigarette smoke, soft drinks, of farts; the smell of wet asphalt, sanitizers, various disinfectants and other chemicals. Less distinct but nonetheless important there is the stuffy, humid, moldy smell of house pets, laundry soap, aftershave, hair conditioner, cooking oil, garbage and public toilets. There’s the smell of the airport, a ship, a waiting area and traces of the intercontinental breakfast buffet still clinging to a tourist’s clothing.
In Amsterdam there's also the smell of weed. From coffee shops it spreads to restaurants, stores, museums, public transport, squares and sidewalks, which are crawling with tourists. Walking along a certain street that is known for globalization and consumerism, I realize that almost everyone wears the same shoes. In Amsterdam I have the impression that everything is made of brick, even the sidewalks. There are the Timberland, Nike and Adidas shoes on the bricks. The footwear may be the same in every capital across the world but bricks like these are uniquely Dutch.
The houses downtown are all a little crooked and a little below sea level. My favorites are the black ones, the buildings with white enameled wooden window frames and golden detailing.
A boat passes under a bridge and it is crammed with tourists. I, too, am a tourist. Here there is so much space and yet people cram into the same streets, where everyone wears the same shoes to shop in stores that are found in every city center and shopping mall the world over – or at least in the places where the tourists come from. Still, international retail chains exhibit different products in different countries based on varying demand. It's certainly worth going to see if we have just missed another item made in Pakistan, India, Vietnam, Indonesia, etc. by women, men and children who collapse in the factories and get sick prematurely due to the unhealthy air and inhumane working conditions.
Maybe if I smoked some weed, I would stop making such connections, such considerations. The fear and the certainty of being powerless in front of superior entities such as macroeconomics, geopolitics and multinational corporations make me sick. I want to slow down. I tell myself: No need to rush... Oh, wait a minute! I quickly walk into Zara. I had almost forgotten that today is Black Friday.
Actually, I imagined all this, when I need something, I just look for it directly on Amazon. Online shopping doesn't have any smell.
