400 years ago, the world experienced its first major financial crisis — and Dutch “Tulip Mania” was to blame.
It’s tulip time abroad in the Netherlands, but closer to home, flowers are blooming in my nearby city of Holland, Michigan, a namesake town located a stone’s throw from Lake Michigan’s duney shoreline.
Tulip Time is a springtime event hosted annually in Holland, Michigan, drawing hundreds of thousands of visitors who exude affection for these symbols of spring while celebrating the city’s Dutch heritage. Whether festival-goers tiptoed through tulip fields or clomped around wearing wooden clogs, there was plenty booming and blooming around this tiny town. I found myself there on a weekend getaway, not only seeking floral bliss, but sifting through antique malls in search of animal-decorated delft tiles and tulip appliqué quilts among unexpected treasures. In the breaks between antique spelunking, I basked in the beauty of thousands of blossoms. While digging my Birkenstock clogged heels (no, not wooden) into the colorful fields, I found myself learning about a — dare I say seedy — history behind the flower’s past. It was coined by the Dutch as Tulpenwindhandel, more colloquially known as Tulip Mania.
Tulip Mania reigns as one of the most infamous commodity bubbles of all time. Originally, tulips were wildflowers growing freely in Central Asia, and the Turkish people were likely the first to cultivate them. Beginning in the 16th century, tulips were imported to the Netherlands. Scientists, scholars, and Dutch aristocrats were entranced by the flower’s anatomy and pattern variety.
The flower was new and exotic to northern Europeans, driving fervent cultivation, documentation, and illustration. Among the most acclaimed tulip and flower painters of the Dutch Golden Era was Rachel Ruysch, whose masterpieces have now been exhibited globally after centuries of being overshadowed by male contemporaries. (Read more about the artist here.)
As more bulbs entered the Netherlands, the public grew obsessed with variations of tulip stripes and multicolored patterns, credited to “broken” bulbs. In truth, such patterns were due to the evolution of a virus strain which gave certain tulips immense value — turning mutated wildflowers into a luxury status symbol cultivated with conspicuous consumption in mind. In fact, it was deemed proof of bad taste if a man of fortune was without a collection of tulips. To put things into perspective, at the time the rare and coveted Semper Augustus cost roughly the value of a townhouse located on Amsterdam’s Grand Canal. The fascination with these exotic blooms led to economic boom, and the demand for tulips resulted in one of history’s most infamous market bubbles. Dutch investors were madly purchasing tulip bulbs and creating a floral frenzy that eventually led to the bulb bubble burst in 1627.
While grand tulip fields still draw hordes of flower fans, Tulip Mania has long passed. But, here in Holland, Michigan at Tulip Time, it feels like there’s a connecting thread stitched between our modern affinity for the flower and the tulip as a hallmark of the Dutch Golden Age. Similar to roses, tulips are a forever favorite flower. It left me wondering, “Were tulips the Beanie Babies of yesteryear? No wonder I’m so smitten.”
As summer creeps in, I recall weeks of springtime marked by individual, long-stemmed tulip bouquets purchased at local grocers. “What color will it be this week?” I’d ask myself, sometimes caving and purchasing two bunches to settle the score. I maintained a watchful eye at the flea market, searching for proportionate vessels worthy of displaying the ephemeral flowers. I recall the bliss associated with styling tulips throughout my house and spotting the spring-blooming bulbs, stubby and tall, easter egged in my neighbor’s grasses. Alas, nothing lasts forever so consider this my formal farewell to the perennial. Until we meet again, next year.
