Over the past two decades, interest in street food has grown.
Articles, books, podcasts, YouTube channels, and television shows have all celebrated the wide variety of dishes that fall under this type of cuisine.
When the term street food is mentioned, it typically conjures images of vendors cooking and serving local specialties in makeshift tents, kiosks, food carts, or other precarious structures in urban settings. In some cities, street food is seen as an integral part of urban and street culture.
Take almost any Saturday in New York City: one or more streets are blocked off, and numerous vendors line the streets, selling everything from Chinese dumplings, to Italian pizza, to Thai noodles to Mexican tacos. Depending on the weather and other competing factors, customers line up at these businesses to sample the diverse culinary options.
In many respects, street food has been, or continues to be part of the unique cultural and social fabric of many neighborhoods and cities around the world.
The Dilution of Street Food?
Historically, street food consisted of flavorful, traditional dishes prepared using local ingredients and cooking techniques. It was accessible both in terms of physical proximity and affordability, often quickly made and served to working people.
Street food was also connected to a meal’s origins, context, and who prepares it.
But today due to a confluence of factors, even some traditional high-end bricks and mortar restaurants, and fast-food chains operating in suburban shopping malls and airport terminals use the term street food in their description of the food they serve and the branding of their businesses.
In short, what was once a humble, localized type of food is now prepared, marketed, sold to, and eaten by consumers far removed from the streets.
One step further. The term street food now seems to be tossed around so carelessly that almost any food served in these settings is labeled street food, rendering the term and what it stands for increasingly meaningless.
Does this widened application of the expression undermine the authenticity of what street food truly is?
What Defines Street Food?
The current use of the term raises other important questions. For example, if so-called street food is cooked in one’s home, does it cease to be street food? Conversely, if a Michelin-starred restaurant temporarily serves one or more dishes at a street festival, does that make it street food?
Now consider these relatively recent developments:
Similarly food trucks, which have grown exponentially in many cities, further complicates the meaning of street food. Does their mobility and presence in urban settings automatically make them purveyors of street food, or are they merely rebranding the same fare served in brick-and-mortar restaurants?
These examples and the questions posed highlight the fluidity of the street food concept and seem to suggest that this type of cuisine is now less about the specific types of food that fall under the street food label, the context in which it is served, and the experience that the consumer has by eating it.
The Evolving Nature of Street Food
It’s important to recognize that the spread of so-called street food into new settings—such as malls, upscale restaurants, or even food trucks—is also indicative of its adaptability, creativity of the people who prepare it, and its influence.
The global popularity of street food has allowed vendors, chefs and cooks to experiment with traditional recipes, giving rise to fusion cuisines and new dining experiences that may attract new and diverse audiences.
Although this evolution may appear to dilute the original concept and meal, it also speaks to the dynamic nature of food culture in urban environments.
However, this expansion raises a tension: is street food evolving into something new, or is its identity being co-opted by commercial interests, reducing it to just another marketing gimmick?
A Lack of Consensus
The reluctance to definitively define street food isn’t just a cultural or linguistic debate; it extends to scholarly discussions in fields like urban studies, public health, nutrition, and food sciences.
Likely due to the complexities of global culinary traditions (think Bangkok or Mexico City), changing food consumption patterns, and the commercialization of what was once grassroots cuisine, many academics writing about street food and publishing in scholarly journals have been hesitant to lock down a clear definition.
The difficulty of applying a uniform definition to street food may be indicative of the vast differences in cultural, economic, and geographical contexts in which street food is prepared, sold and consumed.
Instead of focusing on rigid definitions and authenticity, perhaps we should also consider street food as a reflection of broader social and economic forces; ones that include the intertwined processes of migration, urbanization, and globalization.
Food for thought
Although street food was once tied to local, informal, and sometimes precarious street culture practices, in many parts of the world its evolved into a type of cuisine that is prepared, sold, and consumed by people far removed from the streets in which it might have been born.
This transformation has had an effect not just on what now constitutes street food, but changing food culture and consumer preferences.
Street food now embodies adaptability, ingenuity, and opportunity.
These changes should be understood every time you take a bite, slurp, swallow, enjoy, and perhaps digest your food.
Photo Credit
Photographer: Tore Bustad
Title: Street Food
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/49583773921_e42f6fe876_o.jpg16672500Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2024-10-20 12:55:142024-10-20 12:55:14The evolving nature of street food?
Last week, while mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, I stumbled upon a clip of singer, songwriter, and jazz bassist Adeline Michèle (aka Adi Oasis), performing a gig wearing a white hotel bathrobe and a towel turban around her head.
Undoubtedly, Adi’s decision to wear the bathrobe and head wrap on stage is one of the most unconventional fashion choices seen in modern musical performances.
Drilling deeper, one might wonder: why didn’t Adi, or one of her bandmates or friends, rush out and buy something more suitable for the occasion?
Also, why not stop at the bathrobe?
But Adi took her wardrobe a step further by sporting a head towel wrap, suggesting she had just stepped out of the shower, a choice that is reminiscent of classic advertising campaigns by Estée Lauder and L’Oréal, which have often featured models in white bathrobes with towel turbans, and iconic images of Marilyn Monroe, Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, or even Audrey Hepburn in the classic movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
What initially seemed like a pragmatic, but quirky and improvisational response to an airline screwup, could equally be a deliberate artistic statement, blending circumstance with performance and subtle commentary.
Performance Art, Gimmick, Distraction or Social Commentary?
To begin with, the image of Adi performing in a bathrobe and towel wrap creates an unusual, out-of-context, and—for some—arresting visual. It defies expectations, provoking viewers and listeners to ask questions.
This striking image grabs the audience’s attention, challenging conventional assumptions. It forces spectators to ask: Who is this woman playing the bass? What is the story behind this? Why the unconventional attire?
Is Adi pushing boundaries intentionally, or is it to shock viewers for the sake of spectacle? Could she be drawing on a tradition where everyday inconveniences are transformed into art?
If this is just an opportunistic gimmick, does it detract from the music, or does it enhance the overall experience by adding layers of meaning?
Could the white bathrobe and towel turban evolve into her signature style?
The key challenge is ensuring that this visual—the bathrobe, the towel, and its associated symbolism—does not overshadow the music itself.
If this look becomes a regular fixture at every performance, it risks becoming stale, losing the spontaneity and intrigue that made it memorable in the first place.
Will other musicians or creators begin to adopt this style in their own public performances?
As a form of social commentary, Adi’s attire could subtly critique the absurdities of modern travel, where lost luggage, delayed flights, and bizarre security protocols have become common enough to negatively impact musicians’ ability to engage in their craft and get to their gigs with a minimum of hassle.
Looking deeper, many iconic musicians—from Jimi Hendrix and Lady Gaga to Gene Simmons of KISS, Prince, David Bowie, and Mike Geier as Puddles Pity Party—have made bold visual choices in both their clothing and their performances, cementing their distinctive images.
Conclusion: Navigating the Balance
The challenge for many artists—musician or otherwise—is ensuring that extraneous things (like the choice of clothing they wear at their performances) doesn’t overshadow the merit of their work.
This not an easy task when they have to balance numerous competing obligations.
Adi’s bathrobe/turban wrap might have started as a one-time improvisation, but if it’s repeated or adopted by others, its originality will fade, becoming just another gimmick.
With so many competing pressures, it’s difficult for creators to remain dynamic and authentic.
Kudo’s to Adi for pulling it off.
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/Screenshot-2024-10-13-at-12.31.38 AM.png1316752Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2024-10-13 14:32:092024-12-15 15:58:35Wrapping One’s Head Around Iconic Musical Performances
Across the United States, many small rural and mountain towns have adopted a carefully curated charm that feels both nostalgic and quaint.
Although these picturesque settings are appealing to some, this process often results in a loss of distinctive character.
Instead of reflecting a town’s authentic history or culture, visitors are presented with an idealized, commercialized, and homogenized version of a bygone village—one crafted to meet the expectations of tourists.
In the process, the very authenticity that once defined these places becomes diluted, replaced by a sanitized experience that prioritizes down home country aesthetics over genuine local culture.
This situation raises numerous questions.
WHAT CHARACTERIZES SUCH PLACES?
Typically small in size and population, these locations often revolve around a main street, with retail offerings designed to attract weekend and holiday tourists, generally from middle-class backgrounds and larger urban centers.
Alternatively, or in a complementary fashion, these establishments seem to address Millennial and Gen Z food tastes, blending trendy, urban-inspired food ingredients (e.g., avocado, kimchi, kombucha, sriacha, truffle oil, etc.) with a local flair (e.g., heritage chicken raised from a local farm). The “general stores” offer sandwiches, soups, and salads with quirky, regionally inspired names, and artisanal local products.
Sometimes these towns even boast a high-end restaurant run by a “celebrity chef” who has ostensibly “escaped” the big city. Reservations for these venues (sometimes specializing in a farm-to-table approach to food preparation) are often booked weeks in advance, adding an air of exclusivity to the experience.
When describing dishes, staff might enthusiastically explain that the mac and cheese comes with a local twist, as if the addition of artisanal cheese reinvents the menu item.
Further down the street, visitors might find antique or vintage shops selling shabby chic furniture, and perhaps even a boutique clothing store, art gallery, or bookstore. A real estate office may be tucked away among these shops, advertising second homes to urbanites looking to escape their “stressful” city lives.
The town may even have an “up and coming” art scene, lending credence to the location’s cosmopolitan appeal.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of town, more traditional small-town commercial establishments may still persist—perhaps a Dollar Store, a supermarket, a gas station, a Veterans of Foreign Wars post, or an auto body shop. These businesses stand in stark contrast to the curated vibe that dominates the town’s main street.
WHY & HOW DOES THIS OCCUR?
Big and small towns confront economic downturns—businesses close, unemployment rises, and younger residents leave seeking opportunities elsewhere.
Each of them deal with this challenge diffierently. Faced with few options, small towns may turn to tourism as a lifeline. The strategy is simple: attract visitors (and their disposable income) by emphasizing the town’s aesthetic appeal.
Local governments, business owners, and external investors work together to reposition these towns as desirable tourist destinations.
These towns become marketable products, their cultural identities commodified for economic survival.
At the heart of this shift is a complex deliberate interplay of aestheticization, gentrification, and commercialization, and branding.
Facades of selected retail operations are spruced up or replaced. The boarded up buildings may be torn down, and the gritty, lived-in character of a place changes to something that seems almost too polished.
In many ways, the town becomes a kind of set design, crafted to attract tourists rather than reflect the lives of those who remain.
Meanwhile sometimes these tourists, attracted by the town’s newfound charm, begin to move in, (perhaps buying vacation properties nearby), and real estate prices (and rents) rise, making it increasingly difficult for long-time residents to remain.
WHY MIGHT THIS CHANGE BE GOOD THING?
Economic development in small towns can create new jobs that allow locals to remain in their communities and improve the overall quality of life.
Service jobs in hospitality, construction, and landscaping may proliferate, providing diverse opportunities for residents.
For skilled professionals like mechanics, doctors, and lawyers, growth in local businesses could mean new clients and business expansion.
With an increased tax base, towns could invest in much-needed infrastructure updates, from roads to schools, which would benefit the entire community.
Economic development might also provide seniors with a financial cushion as they transition into retirement, offering them a chance to sell farmland or other assets for a comfortable nest egg.
But all that glitters is not gold.
WHY MIGHT THIS BE BAD?
This shift brings with it pressures to cater to the new crowd, who may have vastly different expectations and tastes than the original residents.
Beneath the surface, the towns often feel hollow. They’re no longer communities in the traditional sense; instead, they are curated experiences, designed to attract outsiders.
Meanwhile, many long-time residents of these towns, some with conservative political attitudes aligned with the MAGA movement, contrast sharply with urban visitors. This tension can predictably create some underlying friction.
The small-town charm and friendliness may sometimes feel forced or manufactured.
The sameness of these kinds of towns contributes to a considerable amount of homogenization where over time and with sufficient exposure, these towns all begin to look and feel alike.
Upon closer inspection, what initially seems charming can come across as overly contrived and staged.
The result is an experience that sometimes borders on the saccharine.
Many towns, while visually appealing, can feel hollowed out, catering more to the tastes of outsiders than to those who have lived there for generations.
Beneath the interpersonal encounters, there may also be a quiet tension from locals who rely on the influx of tourist dollars while simultaneously resenting the changes it brings.
This tension reflects a deeper question: what is being sacrificed in the pursuit of charm and economic development? As towns reshape themselves to fit an idealized image their distinctiveness can erode, making them feel more like themed attractions than genuine communities.
WHAT CAN BE DONE ABOUT IT?
Although these towns offer economic benefits by drawing in tourists, it is essential to consider the long-term implications of their curated environments.
This situation raises several key questions:
Was there a distinct and authentic community life before the economic downturn?
What defined this earlier period?
In the past, were these towns vibrant places to live, work or play?
How can these towns balance tourism and economic growth while fostering a unique identity and authentic community life?
How can economic development of the location prioritize sustainable high quality jobs?
How can economic development avoid unitended consequences like rising living costs or overdevelopment?
What are the available options for building a sustainable economic future?
If there was a sense of community. The question then becomes: Is the economic boost worth the sacrifice of identity? And how sustainable is a model that relies on surface-level appeal while potentially alienating the very people who gave these towns their original soul?
Although answers to these questions are not immediately clear, it is essential to remain wary of environments, rural or urban that prioritize charm over community and appearance over substance.
Photo credit
Photographer: Steve Shook
Greetings from Catskill Mountains, New York – Large Letter Postcard
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/53361441671_3bf562522b_o.jpg6391000Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2024-10-06 13:43:472024-10-09 19:48:30What’s Up with All the Cutesy-Wootsy Small American Towns?
The evolving nature of street food?
/by Jeffrey Ian RossOver the past two decades, interest in street food has grown.
Articles, books, podcasts, YouTube channels, and television shows have all celebrated the wide variety of dishes that fall under this type of cuisine.
When the term street food is mentioned, it typically conjures images of vendors cooking and serving local specialties in makeshift tents, kiosks, food carts, or other precarious structures in urban settings. In some cities, street food is seen as an integral part of urban and street culture.
Take almost any Saturday in New York City: one or more streets are blocked off, and numerous vendors line the streets, selling everything from Chinese dumplings, to Italian pizza, to Thai noodles to Mexican tacos. Depending on the weather and other competing factors, customers line up at these businesses to sample the diverse culinary options.
In many respects, street food has been, or continues to be part of the unique cultural and social fabric of many neighborhoods and cities around the world.
The Dilution of Street Food?
Historically, street food consisted of flavorful, traditional dishes prepared using local ingredients and cooking techniques. It was accessible both in terms of physical proximity and affordability, often quickly made and served to working people.
Street food was also connected to a meal’s origins, context, and who prepares it.
But today due to a confluence of factors, even some traditional high-end bricks and mortar restaurants, and fast-food chains operating in suburban shopping malls and airport terminals use the term street food in their description of the food they serve and the branding of their businesses.
In short, what was once a humble, localized type of food is now prepared, marketed, sold to, and eaten by consumers far removed from the streets.
One step further. The term street food now seems to be tossed around so carelessly that almost any food served in these settings is labeled street food, rendering the term and what it stands for increasingly meaningless.
Does this widened application of the expression undermine the authenticity of what street food truly is?
What Defines Street Food?
The current use of the term raises other important questions. For example, if so-called street food is cooked in one’s home, does it cease to be street food? Conversely, if a Michelin-starred restaurant temporarily serves one or more dishes at a street festival, does that make it street food?
Now consider these relatively recent developments:
The COVID-19 pandemic prompted restaurant owners to build makeshift outdoor dining shelters. Should food prepared in an indoor kitchen and served outside in these spaces now qualify as street food simply because it’s consumed in an open-air setting?
Similarly food trucks, which have grown exponentially in many cities, further complicates the meaning of street food. Does their mobility and presence in urban settings automatically make them purveyors of street food, or are they merely rebranding the same fare served in brick-and-mortar restaurants?
These examples and the questions posed highlight the fluidity of the street food concept and seem to suggest that this type of cuisine is now less about the specific types of food that fall under the street food label, the context in which it is served, and the experience that the consumer has by eating it.
The Evolving Nature of Street Food
It’s important to recognize that the spread of so-called street food into new settings—such as malls, upscale restaurants, or even food trucks—is also indicative of its adaptability, creativity of the people who prepare it, and its influence.
The global popularity of street food has allowed vendors, chefs and cooks to experiment with traditional recipes, giving rise to fusion cuisines and new dining experiences that may attract new and diverse audiences.
Although this evolution may appear to dilute the original concept and meal, it also speaks to the dynamic nature of food culture in urban environments.
However, this expansion raises a tension: is street food evolving into something new, or is its identity being co-opted by commercial interests, reducing it to just another marketing gimmick?
A Lack of Consensus
The reluctance to definitively define street food isn’t just a cultural or linguistic debate; it extends to scholarly discussions in fields like urban studies, public health, nutrition, and food sciences.
Likely due to the complexities of global culinary traditions (think Bangkok or Mexico City), changing food consumption patterns, and the commercialization of what was once grassroots cuisine, many academics writing about street food and publishing in scholarly journals have been hesitant to lock down a clear definition.
The difficulty of applying a uniform definition to street food may be indicative of the vast differences in cultural, economic, and geographical contexts in which street food is prepared, sold and consumed.
Instead of focusing on rigid definitions and authenticity, perhaps we should also consider street food as a reflection of broader social and economic forces; ones that include the intertwined processes of migration, urbanization, and globalization.
Food for thought
Although street food was once tied to local, informal, and sometimes precarious street culture practices, in many parts of the world its evolved into a type of cuisine that is prepared, sold, and consumed by people far removed from the streets in which it might have been born.
This transformation has had an effect not just on what now constitutes street food, but changing food culture and consumer preferences.
Street food now embodies adaptability, ingenuity, and opportunity.
These changes should be understood every time you take a bite, slurp, swallow, enjoy, and perhaps digest your food.
Photo Credit
Photographer: Tore Bustad
Title: Street Food
Wrapping One’s Head Around Iconic Musical Performances
/by Jeffrey Ian RossLast week, while mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, I stumbled upon a clip of singer, songwriter, and jazz bassist Adeline Michèle (aka Adi Oasis), performing a gig wearing a white hotel bathrobe and a towel turban around her head.
Just before taking the stage, she quickly told the person filming the video, and then the audience, that she was dressed this way because the airlines had lost her luggage.
Undoubtedly, Adi’s decision to wear the bathrobe and head wrap on stage is one of the most unconventional fashion choices seen in modern musical performances.
Drilling deeper, one might wonder: why didn’t Adi, or one of her bandmates or friends, rush out and buy something more suitable for the occasion?
Also, why not stop at the bathrobe?
But Adi took her wardrobe a step further by sporting a head towel wrap, suggesting she had just stepped out of the shower, a choice that is reminiscent of classic advertising campaigns by Estée Lauder and L’Oréal, which have often featured models in white bathrobes with towel turbans, and iconic images of Marilyn Monroe, Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, or even Audrey Hepburn in the classic movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
What initially seemed like a pragmatic, but quirky and improvisational response to an airline screwup, could equally be a deliberate artistic statement, blending circumstance with performance and subtle commentary.
Performance Art, Gimmick, Distraction or Social Commentary?
To begin with, the image of Adi performing in a bathrobe and towel wrap creates an unusual, out-of-context, and—for some—arresting visual. It defies expectations, provoking viewers and listeners to ask questions.
This striking image grabs the audience’s attention, challenging conventional assumptions. It forces spectators to ask: Who is this woman playing the bass? What is the story behind this? Why the unconventional attire?
Is Adi pushing boundaries intentionally, or is it to shock viewers for the sake of spectacle? Could she be drawing on a tradition where everyday inconveniences are transformed into art?
If this is just an opportunistic gimmick, does it detract from the music, or does it enhance the overall experience by adding layers of meaning?
Could the white bathrobe and towel turban evolve into her signature style?
The key challenge is ensuring that this visual—the bathrobe, the towel, and its associated symbolism—does not overshadow the music itself.
If this look becomes a regular fixture at every performance, it risks becoming stale, losing the spontaneity and intrigue that made it memorable in the first place.
Will other musicians or creators begin to adopt this style in their own public performances?
As a form of social commentary, Adi’s attire could subtly critique the absurdities of modern travel, where lost luggage, delayed flights, and bizarre security protocols have become common enough to negatively impact musicians’ ability to engage in their craft and get to their gigs with a minimum of hassle.
In a separate post, Adi mentioned how the airline she took to get to the performance prevented her from bringing her bass guitar on the plane (and then ended up losing her luggage). This isn’t a new problem; many musicians have voiced frustration about airlines restricting or damaging their instruments.
Looking deeper, many iconic musicians—from Jimi Hendrix and Lady Gaga to Gene Simmons of KISS, Prince, David Bowie, and Mike Geier as Puddles Pity Party—have made bold visual choices in both their clothing and their performances, cementing their distinctive images.
Conclusion: Navigating the Balance
The challenge for many artists—musician or otherwise—is ensuring that extraneous things (like the choice of clothing they wear at their performances) doesn’t overshadow the merit of their work.
This not an easy task when they have to balance numerous competing obligations.
Adi’s bathrobe/turban wrap might have started as a one-time improvisation, but if it’s repeated or adopted by others, its originality will fade, becoming just another gimmick.
With so many competing pressures, it’s difficult for creators to remain dynamic and authentic.
Kudo’s to Adi for pulling it off.
What’s Up with All the Cutesy-Wootsy Small American Towns?
/by Jeffrey Ian RossAcross the United States, many small rural and mountain towns have adopted a carefully curated charm that feels both nostalgic and quaint.
Although these picturesque settings are appealing to some, this process often results in a loss of distinctive character.
Instead of reflecting a town’s authentic history or culture, visitors are presented with an idealized, commercialized, and homogenized version of a bygone village—one crafted to meet the expectations of tourists.
In the process, the very authenticity that once defined these places becomes diluted, replaced by a sanitized experience that prioritizes down home country aesthetics over genuine local culture.
This situation raises numerous questions.
WHAT CHARACTERIZES SUCH PLACES?
Typically small in size and population, these locations often revolve around a main street, with retail offerings designed to attract weekend and holiday tourists, generally from middle-class backgrounds and larger urban centers.
Here one or two restaurants (one of which may be a diner) serving traditional American fare with an occasional health-conscious twist do business.
Alternatively, or in a complementary fashion, these establishments seem to address Millennial and Gen Z food tastes, blending trendy, urban-inspired food ingredients (e.g., avocado, kimchi, kombucha, sriacha, truffle oil, etc.) with a local flair (e.g., heritage chicken raised from a local farm). The “general stores” offer sandwiches, soups, and salads with quirky, regionally inspired names, and artisanal local products.
Sometimes these towns even boast a high-end restaurant run by a “celebrity chef” who has ostensibly “escaped” the big city. Reservations for these venues (sometimes specializing in a farm-to-table approach to food preparation) are often booked weeks in advance, adding an air of exclusivity to the experience.
When describing dishes, staff might enthusiastically explain that the mac and cheese comes with a local twist, as if the addition of artisanal cheese reinvents the menu item.
Further down the street, visitors might find antique or vintage shops selling shabby chic furniture, and perhaps even a boutique clothing store, art gallery, or bookstore. A real estate office may be tucked away among these shops, advertising second homes to urbanites looking to escape their “stressful” city lives.
The town may even have an “up and coming” art scene, lending credence to the location’s cosmopolitan appeal.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of town, more traditional small-town commercial establishments may still persist—perhaps a Dollar Store, a supermarket, a gas station, a Veterans of Foreign Wars post, or an auto body shop. These businesses stand in stark contrast to the curated vibe that dominates the town’s main street.
WHY & HOW DOES THIS OCCUR?
Big and small towns confront economic downturns—businesses close, unemployment rises, and younger residents leave seeking opportunities elsewhere.
Each of them deal with this challenge diffierently. Faced with few options, small towns may turn to tourism as a lifeline. The strategy is simple: attract visitors (and their disposable income) by emphasizing the town’s aesthetic appeal.
Local governments, business owners, and external investors work together to reposition these towns as desirable tourist destinations.
These towns become marketable products, their cultural identities commodified for economic survival.
At the heart of this shift is a complex deliberate interplay of aestheticization, gentrification, and commercialization, and branding.
Facades of selected retail operations are spruced up or replaced. The boarded up buildings may be torn down, and the gritty, lived-in character of a place changes to something that seems almost too polished.
In many ways, the town becomes a kind of set design, crafted to attract tourists rather than reflect the lives of those who remain.
Meanwhile sometimes these tourists, attracted by the town’s newfound charm, begin to move in, (perhaps buying vacation properties nearby), and real estate prices (and rents) rise, making it increasingly difficult for long-time residents to remain.
WHY MIGHT THIS CHANGE BE GOOD THING?
Economic development in small towns can create new jobs that allow locals to remain in their communities and improve the overall quality of life.
Service jobs in hospitality, construction, and landscaping may proliferate, providing diverse opportunities for residents.
For skilled professionals like mechanics, doctors, and lawyers, growth in local businesses could mean new clients and business expansion.
With an increased tax base, towns could invest in much-needed infrastructure updates, from roads to schools, which would benefit the entire community.
Economic development might also provide seniors with a financial cushion as they transition into retirement, offering them a chance to sell farmland or other assets for a comfortable nest egg.
But all that glitters is not gold.
WHY MIGHT THIS BE BAD?
This shift brings with it pressures to cater to the new crowd, who may have vastly different expectations and tastes than the original residents.
Beneath the surface, the towns often feel hollow. They’re no longer communities in the traditional sense; instead, they are curated experiences, designed to attract outsiders.
Meanwhile, many long-time residents of these towns, some with conservative political attitudes aligned with the MAGA movement, contrast sharply with urban visitors. This tension can predictably create some underlying friction.
The small-town charm and friendliness may sometimes feel forced or manufactured.
The sameness of these kinds of towns contributes to a considerable amount of homogenization where over time and with sufficient exposure, these towns all begin to look and feel alike.
Upon closer inspection, what initially seems charming can come across as overly contrived and staged.
The result is an experience that sometimes borders on the saccharine.
Many towns, while visually appealing, can feel hollowed out, catering more to the tastes of outsiders than to those who have lived there for generations.
Beneath the interpersonal encounters, there may also be a quiet tension from locals who rely on the influx of tourist dollars while simultaneously resenting the changes it brings.
This tension reflects a deeper question: what is being sacrificed in the pursuit of charm and economic development? As towns reshape themselves to fit an idealized image their distinctiveness can erode, making them feel more like themed attractions than genuine communities.
WHAT CAN BE DONE ABOUT IT?
Although these towns offer economic benefits by drawing in tourists, it is essential to consider the long-term implications of their curated environments.
This situation raises several key questions:
If there was a sense of community. The question then becomes: Is the economic boost worth the sacrifice of identity? And how sustainable is a model that relies on surface-level appeal while potentially alienating the very people who gave these towns their original soul?
Although answers to these questions are not immediately clear, it is essential to remain wary of environments, rural or urban that prioritize charm over community and appearance over substance.
Photo credit
Photographer: Steve Shook
Greetings from Catskill Mountains, New York – Large Letter Postcard