Eight women, one weekend, and a group chat that has been arguing about it since March.
Somebody wants the beach. Somebody wants a winery. Somebody has a baby and can only do Saturday. Somebody has not said anything at all, which is somehow worse. And you are the one who has to book it, because you are always the one who has to book it.
Here is a weekend in Holland that works, and one part of it that almost nobody plans.
Saturday morning — the water
Holland State Park and Big Red are the shot everyone wants, and both are busy by ten in July. Get there at eight, and you will have the pier nearly to yourselves, plus light that makes every photograph look better than it has any right to.
If you would rather sit than walk, Tunnel Park has the dune stairs and enough beach that a group of eight is not fighting for space.
Midday — downtown
Eighth Street covers the shopping and the coffee, and it is compact enough that eight people moving at eight different speeds still end up in the same place eventually.
Windmill Island is worth an hour if the tulips are out, and is worth exactly zero hours if they are not.
The afternoon — wine
The lakeshore wineries are twenty to forty minutes out depending on which direction you pick. Book ahead for a group of eight. Every one of them will tell you they can accommodate a walk-in party, and every one of them is happier if you did not.
Dinner — the actual hard part
A table for eight on a Saturday night in Holland in summer requires a reservation, and it requires it earlier than you think. Two weeks is not early. Call the moment you have a date.
And then the evening nobody plans
Here is the gap in almost every bachelorette weekend: Friday night.
Everyone arrives. Nobody has organized anything. You end up in somebody’s rental with a bottle of wine and a Bluetooth speaker, which is lovely for about ninety minutes and then becomes eight people on their phones.
The salon is closed to the public on Monday and Tuesday evenings. We open it for parties instead.
Four pedicure thrones and four nail tables, which means eight people are being worked on at the same time rather than one after another. Champagne. A food flight. The doors locked, the room yours, and nobody waiting their turn while everyone else scrolls.
Minimum of four guests. Monday and Tuesday evenings only. It is the one part of the weekend where the whole group is in the same room, doing the same thing, with nothing else to be. And unlike dinner, nobody has to decide anything.
Because the salon is closed to the public on those evenings, a party is not something you can book online. You email or call Karen, our hospitality director, and she builds the evening with you — how many of you there are, what time you want the doors to open, what you want to eat and drink. Ten minutes on the phone and it is done.
That is not a hoop. It is why the evening works.
If the wedding is here too
If she is getting married at Baker Lofts, everything above happens in the same building she gets married in. The party the night before, the morning of, the ceremony — one address, no cars.
Email or call Karen with your date and how many of you there are.
[ Email Karen ] [ Call the salon ]
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The Team
Michelle runs every party we host. She is in the building the whole time, which means the champagne is poured, the food arrives when it should, and nobody is looking around wondering who to ask.
Our nail team works the room alongside her, which is how eight people get finished at the same time instead of one after another.
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The Steal
Every guest goes home with a shampoo and style, to use whenever suits her.
There is nothing to redeem in a hurry and no expiry to keep track of. Most of the women at a party like this have never sat in one of our chairs, and this is simply the nicest way we know of saying that we would love to see her again — without asking anything of her on the night.
The evening is hers either way. That part is not conditional on anything.
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The Story
We got a noise complaint once.
Monday night, eight women, a playlist somebody had clearly been building for weeks. There are apartments in this building, and one of them called down to say it was quite loud, which it was, because a room with eight people in it who are all talking at once is loud.
We turned it down. The party carried on.
Three weeks later the woman who complained booked her mother in for a birthday appointment. She mentioned it at the front desk — she had been curious about what was happening down there, and it had sounded like people enjoying themselves.
We think about that a lot. The complaint and the booking were the same signal.