Take me to the bottle of Moët and the Aldipress envelope with Het Nieuws.
The message was accompanied only by a bouquet of flowers. Mrs. Kantelberg was quite content with that, indeed.
I think it's an appropriate moment for some chest-thumping. You have managed Esquire for years as editor-in-chief and ‘saved it from demise’ by publishing it yourself.
Why is that nomination incredibly justified?
Esquire is the only paper platform in the Netherlands that knows how to combine style and content at a consistently high level. And you can laugh with us.
You must have already cautiously fantasized about a suitable stage outfit...
The only variable in my party outfit is the color of the socks. The suit is a tuxedo from La Vera Sartoria, made by very small but therefore no less skilled tailors in Naples. It feels like I'm slipping into pajamas, so smooth.
Moving on to the weekend. At what point does that start for you? And is it accompanied by a filled glass of one thing or another?
If a glass is the criterion, my weekend starts on Monday, I fear. Nothing extravagant by the way: gin and tonic has been my poison of choice for about fifteen years. Strangely enough, I'm also into Campari. Also with tonic. Or with orange juice, if I'm in a feminine mood.
What does a Kantelberg weekend look like?
Such a weekend is molded around the activities of the Kantelberg juniors. With only sometimes a stolen moment of attention for Mrs. Kantelberg.
My Saturday quickly begins with reading your column in Volkskrant Magazine. For whom did you dip the pen in the mildly sour ink this week?
This Saturday is an ode to one of the few heroes I have: Ben Bradlee, editor-in-chief of The Washington Post during Watergate and the publication of the Pentagon Papers – the visitors of this site will remember it all as if it were yesterday. Next week, the Televizier Gala visitors will be disappointed, the ink for that was more sour than mild.
Is the weekend wear of people a horror to you as a fashion messiah?
No, it's more the weekday disinterest that sometimes makes me feel down.
What do you actually wear on these days?
A lot easier, because I mostly find myself in a sports hall. And a cardigan. Always a cardigan.
Does Saturday look very different from Sunday?
Used to, yes, not anymore. Different times, huh. The neat outfit of yesteryear is now just as Sunday-like on, say, Tuesday or Wednesday.
What is being read, seen, and listened to in the Kantelberg household?
A lot is being read, unfortunately only by me and the two Kantelberg ladies (42 and 8 years old). Those two sons of mine are on their phone or tablet all day long, much to the dismay of their paper-addicted father. I read newspapers on paper – daily the International New York Times, on weekends also Het Parool and the Volkskrant and a varying English one. Magazines come flying in from all corners, although New York Magazine has been my favorite for years. And at the risk of coming across as a dinosaur: I listen to vinyl records on my Thorens 166 turntable. It scratches happily. That ranges from Lou Rawls to The Waterboys.
What do you prefer on your plate and what swims in your glass?
In terms of glass: see above. In terms of plate: for seventeen years I have been cycling home whistling because I know that Mrs. Kantelberg has cooked. Do you want a specific dish? As long as there is white rice, chicken, green beans, and fried banana.
Many Powerful Men do a digital detox on the weekend. Is that an option?
You should ask a Powerful Man that. I get excited about a package with bol.com on the sticker and inside a fresh book with an unbroken spine – I fear I can't make it any more exciting.
Finally, how does Sunday evening end and what time does that damned alarm go off on Monday again?
The alarm goes off on weekdays at half past seven because I have to drop off kids at school at half past nine – now only the youngest. Those are, by the way, the happiest moments of my day. That and that evening with rice and green beans.
(image credit via Arno Kantelberg Twitter account)
