FARMERS' MARKETS ARE HAVING A MOMENT IN HIPSTER CULTURE. BUT IS THIS TREND HELPING OR HURTING FARMERS AND VENDORS?
By Ginny Bixby
“NO HIPSTERS!”
That’s what the sign in the front of the Fredericksburg Farmers’ Market read. “Don’t be coming in here with your hairy faces, your vegan diets, your tiny feet, and your sawdust bedding!!! No, wait… hamsters… No HAMSTERS!!!”
My best friend Erin and I turned to each other and laughed. “I have to get pictures of this,” she said, pulling her iPhone out of her pocket.
The sign was surprising to us because who fits more with in with farmers’ markets than a millennial hipster? They almost camouflage in with the $7 bags of roasted chickpeas and the #nofilter sunlight cascading over crates of red, yellow, and green bell peppers.
Historians have traced the first organized American farmers’ market back to Boston, Massachusetts in 1634. However, even thousands of years ago in ancient Egypt, farmers would line up along the Nile River to sell their produce. Farmers’ markets were a cooperative effort- the farmers could sell their crop for profit, and locals could buy food to feed their families. This was the primary source of food vending prior to the advent of grocery stores. According to the Smithsonian, Thomas Jefferson was seen shopping at farmers’ markets in their heyday, circa 1806. But following the Industrial Era, grocery stores became more common, and refrigeration became more accessible.
Farmers’ markets regained their popularity during World War II, in a time when housewives were encouraged to grow victory gardens and save food stamps. After the war, however, the hype died down, until a resurgence in popularity during the late 1970s and the 1980s, when farmers’ markets were promoted as an environmentally friendly alternative to big box stores.
But even within the past decade, farmers’ markets have reached a peak in popularity- according to the USDA. These years have seen a doubling in the number of American farmers’ markets to over 8,500. My belief: it’s the hipsters that did this. The group has also had a cultural resurgence during the same period. The farmers’ market fits right in with their other interests, which include vanity glasses and craft beers. Suddenly the farmers market isn’t just frugal or environmental. It’s chic. How did this happen?
My friend and I approached a farm stand where a middle-aged Hispanic woman was weighing tomatoes on a scale. The stand was covered by tents and backed by an old tractor trailer truck with a worn logo on its exterior. Her striped t-shirt was stained with dirt, and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. I asked her, “Ma’am, would you mind talking to me for a moment?” She looked startled. But then she called out to her son- “Jesus! Ven aca! (come here)”
An 11-year-old boy in a striped polo shirt came running from behind the truck. He seemed to know exactly what his mother wanted from him without her saying another word.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said to me. “What do you need? My mom does not speak English.”
I explained to him that I am a student at the university and that I am writing an article. “I’d like to write about your family’s stand.”
He seemed a little hesitant at first, leaning back against the truck and crossing his arms behind him. “I’m not going to ask anything hard,” I said.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, seeming to relax a bit. As I asked him questions about the stand, he organized the zucchini and squash in front of him. His body language made him appear as if he owned the stand himself.
“Every Thursday and Friday we start picking stuff to bring to the market. Sometimes we start on Wednesday,” he said. “The one part I don’t like is getting up at 3:30 a.m. to get here. We are from Westmoreland, so it’s over an hour away.” He continued to sort the vegetables.
All of the vendors at the farmer’s market have to get to the market early to claim the best spot, Jesus explained. “That’s why we have to get up so early. We try to be here at 5 a.m.”
“My favorite thing is to pick up tomatoes and potatoes. I like picking things,” he said.
He looked younger than 11, but wanted to be sure I wrote down that he was almost twelve and that he was sixth grader.
I felt slightly uncomfortable talking to him. He was perfectly kind, but I felt guilty. I was taking up his time on a busy day at the farmers’ market. This was his family’s livelihood. I also felt a bit like I was exploiting him by talking to him and recording his voice, even though he had given me verbal permission. I didn’t want him to feel like an animal in the zoo; like I was trying to put his life on display.
He told me he’d been working on the farm forever; that his parents owned it so he was essentially born into it. While his parents were clearly the leaders, Jesus and his sister took care of almost all the transactions. They were the only representatives of the farm who spoke English, and they were clear experts at working the credit card reader. They exhibited no hesitation in speaking to adults, asking each customer if they needed help and doing mental math quickly when taking payments. They were miniature adults.
Under a tent, a middle-aged woman in a bohemian skirt organized jewelry on old, deliberately shabby chic wooden crates. Her name was Jenny Boyko, and she was the jewelry designer behind The Copper Tree.
“The evening before the market, I pack up my car with all my props and all my jewelry,” she said. Boyko’s stand is definitely reliant on props- beautiful animal skull busts, ladders, wire trees, metal baskets. “I store all the jewelry in egg crates to prevent tangling,” she said.
She too had to set up at 5 a.m. It’s first come first spot. You want to be here early so you can pick out the best spot,” she said.
Then she sets up and lays out all the jewelry, and then teardown is 2 p.m. “The same routine as setting up, just backwards,” she said, laughing.
“I use hand collected sea glass. I hand drill the holes under water, which is a delicate process. It takes a long time. And I hand collected all the beach wisps, dandelion pieces, and flower pieces in the jewelry from various beaches.”
Boyko’s work is clearly a labor of love, and work that takes a great deal of time.
“This isn’t my primary job,” she said. “I’m a science teacher at Freedom High School in Woodbridge. I just love doing this. I love taking inspiration I find and turning it into art.”
Erin and I wandered around the market, quickly realizing how many stands featured crafted items rather than just food. This was different than other farmers’ markets I’d been to- there would be one or two jewelry or craft stands, but not as many as the Fredericksburg market had. We joked about how you could easily get trapped into spending money on cute accessories when you’d come here with plans to buy ingredients for dinner.
Dolly Whitley’s business card describes her as “a lover of cuteness & artist extraordinaire.” The artwork on the other side has an illustration of a cat mermaid.
All of Whitley’s art is certainly charming- animals with big eyes, colorful Mexican sugar skulls, flowers. It’s incredibly reminiscent of Margaret Keane’s “big eyes” paintings.
“I usually paint what I love. I love whimsical things and animals, especially woodland creatures. Sometimes I’m even inspired by shows I like or fairy tales that I like. I do what I love, often based on my mood.”
Whitley says she is a mom first, artist second. To get ready for the market, “I work really, really hard and ignore my kids,” she laughed. “I paint a lot at night.”
A painting of an owl on tree bark, for example, is upwards of $80, but a print of Wonder Woman is $28. Whitley also sells her work on an Etsy shop. Whitley’s artist Facebook page, Elliot and Evelyn, says, “I just wanna make all the pretty little things and share them with you.”
As I left the market, I noticed Jesus’ sister brushing dirt off miniature pumpkins and helping customers check out, her hair coming undone from its braid. “Pumpkins are only a dollar!” Jesus shouted. He’d gotten more dirt on his shirt.
Across from them, a mother fussed at her young son, around age 5. He was doing a free scarecrow craft that a local museum had set up. “Come on, Jonah, do you want to do the craft or not?” He wailed as she shoved her monogrammed diaper bag over her shoulder.
Erin and I were stopped twice by two different evangelists from a local Baptist church, offering us free bottled water and flyers about their various Sunday services.
People were certainly patronizing the farm stands, as evident by the massive lines to check out. I had to wait a few minutes for people to pick their apples from the crates and move away so I could pick mine, and then I felt pressured to choose mine quickly so the next person could have their turn. These businesses weren’t hurting, but they also were selling relatively inexpensive produce.
However, some people seemed more wrapped up in an aesthetic. Several mothers with young children headed to a particular stand in droves- it had a miniature pumpkin patch with hay bales and pumpkins; it was totally Facebook worthy.
Whitley and Boyko weren’t trying to make their livings off of their crafts. But still, I noticed a lot of people browsing their merchandise but not buying. Some of these people had clearly already spent their wad on produce, but some also seemed to be into taking artsy pictures and moving on.
As it’s become more stylish to go to farmers’ markets, what’s also been lost is the purpose it’s held before of supporting local agriculture, and even local artists. The farmers did seem to be doing a booming business in most cases, but still, selling vegetables isn’t going to make someone rich, and clearly some people at the market weren’t there to support the vendors.
Some sects of hipster culture, especially in regards to farmers’ markets, have become more about the appearance of “homegrownness” than actual “homegrownness” itself. There’s almost something condescending about people visiting farmers’ markets like they are amusement parks. A Washington Post report in 2016 found that even in the popularity of farmers’ markets, farmers’ stands are being hurt. People are coming for an Instagram photo, not produce. It is all about keeping up appearances, wanting to show their online followers how great they are for shopping local. And even if they are shopping local, it’s not about the principle of it, it’s about showing off their supposed social consciousness.
The vendors at farmers' markets are real people with real families, real lives, real mortgages to pay. For some people, it's a part time hobby, but they still can't afford to spend all day at market only to reap no reward. For others, it's their entire existence and it's how they are getting their next meal.
The last thing I want to do is be a part of the problem, particularly after my interaction with Jesus that left me feeling uncomfortable and somewhat guilty.
So I go up to Jesus’ stand. “What did you say about $1 pumpkins?”