“Do you mind if I call my father over!? Maybe his opinion will be the deciding factor in your choice” she looks at me, smiles and then answers “In fact, please! He always has nice ideas too.” I walk to the back to the kitchen and then call for him to come upstairs. Moments later, he is also standing in the middle of the store looking at the 2 different fabrics.
“This color is absolutely beautiful!” With a determined expression on his face, he points to the bronze colored fabric. The sound in his voice is so convincing that the client and I immediately agree: the bronze-coloured fabric is really beautiful. “If your father says bronze, we’ll go for it.” I see her gaze drifting to my father who was now looking focused on the motifs in the fabric . “You really have a nice nice dad.” she says. I look at him. His beige-colored shirt tucks neatly inside his brown-colored pants, as always. A color that I always think goes well with his friendly green eyes. His gray curls are just a little too long. Which, in combination with his gray mustache, almost makes him look like Einstein. I grin and then say: “Mwhaaa he’s okay, he can get on with it.” she doesn’t miss my sarcastic undertone and she laughs. “Hey what are you saying? Don’t listen to her too much. Sometimes Nabila is just blah blah blah.” The twinkle in his eye and his smile negate his words. This is our thing. I love making mustaches (as that’s what we call him in our family) laugh and he thoroughly enjoys teasing me back. No, he’s more than okay. He is great!
He was about 14 years old when he decided to leave his village Hnata (near Ouazane) and seek his life path. He once told me that Grandma didn’t like the idea and that’s why she poured him tea that day with sleeping aid in it. Hoping he would fall asleep and change his plans. “Did it work!?” I then asked. “yes, I had slept and when I woke up well rested I still left.” Poor grandmother, mother of several children of which only 4 had survived, had not wanted to say goodbye to her youngest son AbdelAziz. Not knowing that many years later her son would become a successful entrepreneur in the Netherlands with hands of gold.
“I then started learning the trade with a teacher in Casablanca. And then about different areas in Morocco. From Tetouan to even the Sahra. There I had a shop that I just left overnight. But that’s another story for another day.” He took a sip of his only addiction: black coffee. “Huh, do they wear kaftans in the desert too!?” I exclaimed in surprise. from. “The kaftan is worn throughout Morocco. But with its own style. People have different preferences there than in Tetouan, for example. Anyway, after a lot of traveling and learning I finally settled in Casablanca where I opened a shop. After that I met your mother and you already know the rest for the most part”
And that’s right, 3 months after I was born, Dad left Morocco and ended up in the Netherlands. Because there was no demand for kaftans in the Netherlands at the time, he decided to follow his other passion. What many of you don’t know is that Dad has very green fingers. It is not only dust that revives at his touch, also a flower or a plant grows fast when his golden hands push a seed into the earth.
It took almost 15 years before he decided by chance, by chance, to pick up his old profession again, which created Kaftan Fes. I will be happy to tell you in a next blog what those coincidental circumstances were and how he further developed Kaftan Fes. I want to thank everyone who messaged me over the past week! Your sweet comments have made us want to share more with you and that is very motivating. Unfortunately, my Dutch grammar failed me somewhere in grade 5, so please forgive my language mistakes. Soon I will pick it up again between the classrooms in group 5 and this will also change. We would love to hear any comments/advice/wishes/constructive feedback or questions! This is possible on Facebook (preferably) Snapchat and Instagram. And now my question to you: do you want to hear the sequel story of AbdelAziz and the origin of Kaftan Fes in a next blog or should I wait a little longer?
Nabila