Ode to Mina de Meijere | Ode to Mina de Meijere

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Dear Mina,

An ode, are you waiting for that? I don't believe it. Had I walked into your fashion store Maison M.J.C. De Meijere 150 years ago asking if I could write one for you, the answer would probably have been grumbling. You would have grumbled a little about vanity or nonsense, and gone on working.

Still, I do. Because not every woman managed to build a great fashion house in Amsterdam, which existed for nearly a century. Where the queen and the canalside gentry of yesteryear shopped, and many Amsterdammers marveled at the beautiful window displays. Not every woman made it from the Jordaan to Keizersgracht through her own hard work. You must have been a rare self-made woman in the 19th century.

When your father died unexpectedly at a young age, your mother found herself alone. She had to support your family, and her yarn-and-linen shop at home could not do the job. In what is now Nine Streets she founded a fabric store, where you supported her. A mother-daughter business, in which you later raised your own daughters. Under your inspiring leadership, De Meijere grew into a chic fashion store on Leidsestraat.

You had a work ethic you could say, Mina. Wherever you were, all your life you remained devoted to your fashion store. Even when you found a husband who earned enough to support you. You continued to work during your six pregnancies, with young children at the hip, and even when you had already made so much profit that you could easily retire. That the law required you to be incapacitated as a married woman was beyond your control.

From your youth you knew how important it was that you could manage on your own. If fathers or husbands died, and you had nothing to fall back on, then as a woman you were left to beg. All your life you made sure that the women after you would never be in that position. You trained your daughters Mina, Pierette and Margot in retailing. You taught them to buy, sell, negotiate, keep accounts, recognize fabrics and qualities, and develop a nose for trends.

Still, your main concern was that your daughters could fend for themselves - not that they would actually do so. As soon as a marriage proposal came in, you waved them off lovingly. There was no question of them continuing to work after they married, just like you. You may have been a race entrepreneur, but for the women you loved most, you wished for exactly what the spirit of the times dictated. A comfortable life as a stay-at-home mom, with a husband who brought in the money.

We can hardly imagine a successful businesswoman directing her daughters toward the household. But we forget that hard work in your time for women was seen as a necessary evil, not something you were celebrated for. Nor was it often fun. As a servant, as a seamstress, in the fields or in the factory, women worked long hours for meager wages. Society could be divided into two groups of women: those who were not allowed to work and those who had to. Those who wanted to belong to the decent people had to keep away from physical labor.

Bij de nette mensen was waar jij je familie uiteindelijk wilde hebben, Mina. Dat ging niet goed met het drijven van een winkel samen. Voor jouw modieuze klantenkring gold de winkelstand als een ‘lager milieu’. In hun ogen was jij ‘maar’ een winkelierster. Ze zullen je soms als minderwaardig hebben behandeld, je hebben gecommandeerd en gekleineerd. Je wist je daar op de juiste manier naar te plooien: dienstbaar, welwillend en inschikkelijk. Zo kleedde je je niet ultramodieus – dat zou maar uitstralen dat je je plaats niet kende.  

In plaats daarvan stak je je dochters en kleindochters in de laatste Parijse creaties. Vaak nam je je kinderen mee op je inkoopreizen naar de Franse hoofdstad. Om jouw leveranciers, maar ook het goede leven te leren kennen. Je toonde ze de chique quartiers, de mooiste winkels, nam ze mee naar het theater, of als het keizerlijk paar Napoleon III en Eugénie zich ergens vertoonde. Zo gaf je hen mee: in de wereld boven ons horen wij ook thuis. Mij zullen ze altijd ‘juffrouw’ noemen, hoe getrouwd ik ook ben. Maar voor jullie is er een leven als ‘mevrouw’ mogelijk.  

Achter de toonbank mocht je plooibaar lijken, wanneer de laatste klant de deur achter zich dichtgetrokken had was je dat bepaald niet. Niemand heeft dat beter geweten, dan mannen die zich met jouw zaken bemoeiden. Corrupte investeerders, leveranciers die jou een loer probeerden te draaien, je broer Johannes die meer te zeggen wilde hebben dan jij goed vond. Je joeg ze allemaal de winkel uit, en verdroeg alleen de mannen die bereid waren zich naar jouw wil te schikken. Jouw nee was ononderhandelbaar. 

In this respect, your husband Frits was a good man. Legally he had the power to prohibit you from doing business, but he didn't stand in your way. Not even when De Meijere ran into trouble. Even when he was personally summoned to court by your suppliers, as legally responsible for your debts, he remained behind you. He granted you your wings and knew that everyone would be happier if you had something to do. Your only son Frits junior, your favorite, molded you according to his example.

You pursued your ambitions well into old age. At 58, you decided to expand De Meijere. You had three premises on Leidsestraat connected into a large store, with a modern window display where Amsterdam could see the latest fashions in full effect. And at 73, your dreams were still not finished. That year you asked Queen Emma to grant you the status of purveyor to the royal household. The Royal House was in utter amazement when it turned out that they were dealing with a female merchant of your age. But that purveyorship came to pass.

This is how you achieved everything you wanted. Thanks to your hard work and business instincts, you acquired financial security, so your family was never short of money. With the help of that money, your children were able to climb the social ladder. While your daughters still helped in the store, your granddaughters were raised to become distinguished ladies at an expensive boarding school. One of your great-granddaughters even married a squire. Something that probably never would have happened, had you had enough of being a carpenter's housewife.

You remember how the first wave of feminists fought for more women's rights. I don't think you were their biggest supporter - at least I don't come across your name among their manifestos. You had your own path, which was sometimes ahead of the world they envisioned, and sometimes against it. You claimed what they were fighting for, whether it was yours or not. You didn't break glass ceilings, but climbed up the drainpipe until you were standing on the roof after all. You didn't clench your fists against prevailing morals, but you did clench your fists against the men who tried to force them on you.

This is an ode to you, Mina, but your life was also an ode to us. You were a woman of your time, who was also ahead of her time. You may not have pushed aside all the notions that we later took pleasure in cutting down, but you did know that men were allowed to dominate women. You were living proof that ambition, entrepreneurship and hard work were also feminine traits. Anyone who did not believe that women were capable of more than mothering should have seen you. Your existence was a raised middle finger to the notion that women were mostly at their best behind the kitchen counter.

I wish for one day you could have lived through our time, Mina. You would see a world where women like you are an example to others. Where female entrepreneurship is fully celebrated. Still there is plenty to grumble about. But the laws have changed: a ring on your finger no longer incapacitates you. And a working life is no longer a blemish on your family blazon. We are allowed to develop our talents to make our dreams come true. Just as you suggested years ago.

Marit