Long before I visited Santorini and purchased a locally made journal from Atlantis, I had pledged my loyalty to Moleskine—specifically the MiB (Moleskine Extended A5 Plain in Black).
I was so devoted to the notebook—just it—that I kept at it for more than five years, always ensuring I had a blank version (or two) at home in case I finished my current one. But even though I was (and perhaps still am) a Moleskine loyalist, I had never set foot in one of their stores—Melbourne doesn’t have a Moleskine store. So, spotting one in downtown Amsterdam felt akin to being called into a stationery temple.
Inside the store with the iconic nine white-squared logo, I was greeted by a vibrant display of Moleskine products—different sizes, textures, and functions.
Seeing them in person was far more exciting than viewing them on my dimly lit screen during my late-night browsing sprees, which often fed my borderline-unhealthy stationery obsession.
I didn’t linger long, though. I left Fafa to his new-found Moleskine curiosity and made a beeline for the corner featuring a fuzzy jacket-adorned Moleskine journal and colourful patches.
As someone who has stickered my Moleskine journals to death, the Rainbow Sheep patch + the specific Moleskine journal to stick it on seemed like a no-brainer purchase. But at the time, I was about to embark on our Eastern European trip, and lugging an empty notebook in my carry-on felt unnecessary. (Disclosure: I returned home with six blank notebooks—but that’s a story for another time.)
In that moment of practicality, I settled for the golden embossing of “AMS” because I was, after all, in the Amsterdam Moleskine store. Bright-eyed and optimistic, I also planted the idea of getting “BER”, or even “BEaR”, for Berlin embossed on my the same Moleskin journal after a quick Google search confirmed that Berlin, too, had a Moleskine store.
However, that dream was abruptly halted when the embossing machine at the Hackescher Markt Moleskine store refused to work—even after I visited three days in a row (Dead Chicken Alley was just around the corner).
But, back in that Amsterdam Moleskine store, I didn’t know any of this yet. At the time, I was just happy, though I would have been even happier if I had abandoned my MiB rule earlier and gotten the fuzzy jacket journal—or at least the patch, which I could have easily shoved into Fafa’s luggage without him noticing.
Oh well, there’s always next time.
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