Oh god, am I a snob?

 Since I traveled alone two years ago and slept in dorms in hostels, two months on dormitories in hostels and camped for two weeks in the mud in Mongolia, I always feel that I can defend myself well that I am not a snob or a spoiled princess. Of course, you make me very happy with a luxury hotel bed or a cold glass of champagne but I can honestly say that the coziness of a hostel or a beer in the pub makes me just as happy. Until last weekend when I discovered all kinds of achievements that suddenly brought me to a halt and made me wonder, “oh Jesus, am I a snob after all?”

On Saturday, I went out to dinner in Haarlem with some old friends. After dinner, I took the bus and train back to Amsterdam with one of them, and after just 5 minutes of waiting for the bus, I had enough and wanted to call a taxi. There we were, standing around at 00:30 in the cold, which I really don’t like. I rarely use public transport because I’m that annoying type who only leaves Amsterdam via Schiphol, but if I have to leave the city, it always goes wrong. And not just in Amsterdam, also in New York and London.

I rarely use public transport because I’m that annoying type who only leaves Amsterdam via Schiphol.

 Especially in London by the way, and especially when I’m with Jet. During our Fashion Week trips, we had diligently mapped out the route with the subway and buses, but we always missed the bus, took the subway the wrong way, and ultimately sought refuge in a horrifically expensive taxi. Last week we were in Antwerp where we once again walked in the wrong direction when we had to go to the station for our train back, and after just 20 meters, I asked, “taxi?” and Jet said, “yes for God’s sake!” We couldn’t find one, so in the end, we had to walk after all, but still, the intention was there.

Today, I’m starting a renovation, and that means I had to pack up my entire house this past weekend including my clothes and shoes. On Saturday morning, I went to Gamma for moving boxes, but once home, it turned out to be way too few (or I have too much stuff, but that doesn’t matter right now). Eventually, I decided that the fairly large collection of shoeboxes could also serve as moving boxes for small items. So now I have boxes from Giuseppe Zanotti, Céline, Isabel Marant, Rupert Sanderson, and L.K. Bennett filled with all kinds of junk, and hey, that works just fine. But, on the Snob Scale, I found it actually a bit high., The highlight came this morning. Since my house will be uninhabitable for at least two weeks, Poes Disco has to stay somewhere else. For logistical reasons that are too complicated to explain right now, she’s going to stay with Jet, and I somewhere else, so her travel crate has been ready for days, and this morning the transfer was going to happen. That travel crate is equipped with her favorite blanket, the dustbag I once got with my.

Chloé Paraty (the Snob Scale is now shaking violently). Ever transported a cat, litter box, bags full of food and toys on a bike? Exactly, that doesn’t work. And so I ordered an Uber , loaded it up with all my cat stuff, and went with Disco to Jet’s house (the Snob Scale is now turning purple)., So, transporting your cat who loves to lounge on Chloé dustbags with an Uber after you’ve packed your house with shoeboxes. I believe it can no longer be denied, hi I’m Liesbeth and I’m a bit of a snob after all.

Since I traveled alone two years ago, slept in dorms in hostels for two months, and camped for two weeks in the mud in Mongolia, I think….