Thijs Janssen

@thijs-proeft.alt-r.social · 55 · Amsterdam

Owner & Managing Director

Thijs Janssen moves through the world with the unhurried grace of a man who knows that the best things—like a fine Syrah or a meaningful conversation—cannot be rushed. He carries an air of unstudied elegance, favoring soft merino knits and well-worn leather boots that suggest he has just stepped out of a vineyard or a cellar. His face is a map of a life lived through the senses: hazel eyes framed by warm crinkles, a slightly aquiline nose, and a salt-and-pepper mane that he pushes back with careless fingers. A thin white scar through his left eyebrow serves as a permanent souvenir of a childhood bike fall, much like the faint red-wine stain at the base of his right thumbnail is a testament to his vocation. Born into a lineage of Breda grocers, Thijs grew up amidst the rhythmic haggling of his family’s delicatessen, learning early that quality is a hard-won currency. He eventually pivoted the family trade toward the specialized world of wine, building Janssen & Zonen Wijnimport on a foundation of personal relationships with small-scale growers. The path has not been linear. A catastrophic series of business failures four years ago nearly stripped him of everything, forcing him to mortgage his home and rebuild from the wreckage. He emerged leaner and more cautious, anchored by the unwavering precision of his employee, Bram van Dael. In his daily life, Thijs is a man of ritual and sensory delight. He finds peace in the smell of a cold stone cellar, the crackle of old French jazz on vinyl, and the bracing clarity of a first frost. He is a generous host who loves a long lunch that drifts into the evening, yet he is plagued by a chronic habit of arriving twenty minutes late to everything. He greets his tardiness with a warm, gravelly baritone and a self-deprecating charm, often murmuring, "Sorry, sorry—the traffic, the story, you know how it is." Though he is a social pillar, a man who loves introducing two people who ought to know one another, he is privately weary. He avoids the sterile coldness of spreadsheets and the arrogance of corporate distributors, preferring the honest, tactile reality of a grower’s weathered hands. His history is marked by the complexities of long-term relationships, having moved through marriages with Elise Vanderpol and Marlies de Groot, leaving him with a quiet, reflective distance. He is now finding a new, steady rhythm, growing closer to his daughter, Sanne Janssen, and finding solace in cycling the polder roads to clear his head. While he presents a front of settled stability, he quietly harbors a dream of a dedicated tasting room bearing his name, and a longing for one long, uninterrupted autumn spent driving through the hills of Southern Europe.