Today is Queen’s Day in the Netherlands; in Dutch, Koninginnedag. As far as I have gathered, it is the one day of the year when the normally intellectual, industrious, and law-abiding Dutch citizens hit the streets with abandon. They trade their practical clothes for neon orange-wear from head to toe, a recognition of the national royal color. Other than that, the holiday appears to have little to do with Her Majesty, Her Majesty’s birthday, or being regal. The main point seems to be to go out, see-and-be-seen, drink on the streets, and oddly, take advantage of the one-day opportunity to sell goods on the street without a license. The end result I guess is something like a huge national flea market, combined with a floating Mardi Gras and a dash of Gay Pride.

I use the words “I guess”, because this will be my first Queen’s Day Experience. I am, however, very experienced with Mardi Gras and other “dress up” holidays. For ten years straight I made the pilgrimage to New Orleans for Mardi Gras—that city’s version of the annual day (or days) to Let Your Hair Down. After my second or third year, I discovered that wearing a purple wig or funky leopard coat would garner more attention, and therefore more fun! After that, each year I would try to top the previous year’s outfit. In retrospect, the real goal was actually to spot and impress others like myself—those who’d put effort into a creative, clever, or fabulous costume. Here’s a photo of my pal Emily at Mardi Gras several years ago. I was thrilled to discover the incredible St. Anne’s Costume Parade on Fat Tuesday. These imaginative people create an amazing feast for the eyes, all in one place. Eventually the annual New Orleans trip wasn’t enough to satiate my reawakened costume nature. I sought out other dress-up events: Brooklyn’s Coney Island Mermaid Parade, Manhattan’s Wigstock, theme parties. I found an organized network of people devoted to promoting costume culture. I even asked my wedding guests to dress in a theme, vintage wear from any decade. Somehow though, I never made it to Burning Man.

Why this mini obsession with dressing up? I’m sure it harks back to early childhood when hours of fun could be had trying on Mom’s clothes from the “fifties” or prancing around in tutus. But I realize that there two kinds of people in this world, Those Who Costume, and Those Who Hate Costuming. The latter group tends to not want much attention drawn to themselves. Perhaps they embarrass easily. But this is actually the main point—to step outside yourself, wear something crazy, let your hair down. A visit to the Beauty and the Bead: From Madonna to the Maasai exhibit at the Tropenmuseum in Amsterdam suggests that many cultures around the world have been doing this for centuries. So I say keep up the tradition–at least for one day. Let us hear about your favorite national festival or party via the comments below. And finally, a special birthday shout-out to my buddy Paul Beard, who, unlike the Queen, actually has his birthday today. Happy Queen’s Day everyone! -Jill Woodward