Doing Football Differently

A four-part docuseries exploring the game’s growing undercurrent

Football is the world’s game, from its religiously dedicated, colour-coded, crest-respecting fanbases and its passionately revered players, to its edge-of-your-seat, heart-stopping celebrations. And as with any world, it contains multitudes. With all eyes turned to the forthcoming FIFA World Cup, what better time to turn the spotlight to the rising strength of a movement blossoming at the edges of the sport — where inclusivity, kindness, and the alternative command the pitch. 

Through the briskness of moves, the constant passing of the holy ball, and the tactility of garments clinging to sweaty skin, football also rhymes with safe-haven driven community, and with the tasteful freedom of self-expression. For Glamcult #144, we partnered with Zalando to delve into the local creatives doing football differently. A docuseries dripping in sartorial intention, where an UNDERCURRENT is deliciously nourished, and flourishes across FLINTA and queer teams, tournaments fueled on all-around inclusivity, and communities bound by something larger than the game.

Loulou Keppy is a Journalism Masters student. With a precise and earnest passion, she talks about her upbringing soaked in the arts, from going to small independent cinemas with her parents, to starting to work at the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam at 17. Today, her creative practice is rooted in her love for film and documentary, focusing on queer and female rights. “What inspires me is giving a voice to marginalised groups, and doing as much as possible with the power that I have,” Loulou says with a smile. Discovering football at art school, with an initial reaction of feeling “super scared because there were only men,” Loulou left with too many new friends, and a freshly discovered love.

Now, if you ask Loulou what her favourite day of the week is, she’ll gladly say Mondays — or when she has FLINTA football, in which “everyone just looks out for each other, makes sure that it’s a friendly positive sphere.” She’ll wear her ISAMAYA glitter eye makeup on the field, clips in her hair, a perfectly comfortable oversized t-shirt, and flowy long shorts. “In the beginning, even without talking you can already make a connection because you’re doing something together. And you always feel nice afterwards.”

In the midst of working in a tech start up, modeling, and being co-founder of her company Tabili — meaning “the table” in Yoruba, and built around a shared love of food and the rituals that unfold around it  — Joy Iheoma van Geerestein has been on the field dribbling, running, scoring, for as long as she can remember. Following studies in food technology, this passion for gathering people around food and hosting rhymes with community and connection. Values which naturally solidify on the pitch.

Speaking of shared rituals, Joy recalls the exquisitely artificial sweetness of the traditionally Dutch, stingy serving of Limonadesiroop passed around between half-times. Yet amid the sugary, acidic memories of the drink, Joy also speaks of the racism she experienced through sports, and the toughness of growing up with that. Joy reflects, “football has the power to unite, but it also really brings out the ugly colours of systemic racism. But we’re a team, so you have to accept that, and that we are equals.” She acknowledges the strength of unison, but knows there is still much to be done. “We’re not fully there,” she adds. That understanding of what it means to truly be part of a team arrived early. It came at seven, when she joined her local boys’ club: all “chatty and talking about winning things.” In that moment, Joy knew she wanted whatever that was. Growing up amidst the shared competitiveness of a team turned community, that winner mentality never left.

Inspired by the longed-for bygone eras discovered in fairy tales, books and film, Benjamin Aerts is the stylist and costume designer who revels in beguiling fictional characters. This fascination with (hi)stories spans medieval African architecture to the Renaissance, and extends into a passion for the intricacies of Symbolism. A love for the past that harmoniously coexists with the immediacy of the present, felt most acutely amidst the rushing thrill of a football game. After more than a decade across ballet, tennis, judo, karate, and basketball, Benjamin found football later in life — when he was sharing a studio, games would be held in the open space between the artist ateliers.

Sometimes joining the unofficial pitch, a first seed was planted, and ultimately blossomed when a friend asked him to join her team. And Benjamin states it with sweet candor: “I do want to look cute on the field.” Added to the mix are a “love for competition” and the ability to “really be in the moment.” Benjamin also raises the flip side of football — a world still tethered to roughness and hegemonic masculinity, where men football fans’ emotivity sometimes swells to abyssal proportions. And yet in his two teams, Benjamin finds the opposite: spaces of kindness and inclusivity.

It’s with the purest, sincerest curiosity that journalist and writer Frida Boeke encounters strangers on a weekly basis, an instinct that also fuels her column in the Dutch newspaper Het Financieele Dagblad. Passionate about bridging the everyday with larger geopolitical themes — from climate change to activism — her work binds genuine wholeheartedness with the serendipity of the everyday. And these meaningful encounters materialise on the football pitch too. Reflecting on the past, Frida goes way back with ball sports, with a serious field hockey career through her teens and early twenties, until one day, she and her teammates made the switch. She reflects on how she wishes football had played a bigger part in her upbringing. “The benefit of football is that all social classes play it,” she says, a sharp contrast to field hockey’s flirtation with poshness. She makes special mention of the canteen, where all social bubbles gather post-match, after a sweat-dripping, pour-it-all-out game on the pitch. A place for “checking out of everything,” from the bustling rhythm of life. “You’re just pushing each other a bit, joking around.” And deeper than that: “It connects me on a deeper level to my friends to do something physical together.”