Milling About at the Neighbourgoods Market

With the very small gap in the torrential downpours that seem to be the staple of Cape Town weather at the moment, my husband and I managed to squeeze in a session at the Old Biscuit Mill for some long-overdue family time. Located in the heart of Woodstock at 375 Albert Road, the market takes place every Saturday morning between 9am and 14pm. Red brick buildings, frilly flower pots and silver space trailers that may have caused the confusion out at Roswell, all set the stage for this cleverly created vintage experience.

Home of the trendy Shabby Chic, the market primarily caters to what the French would refer to as the Bourgeois Baba Cools or rather as the old quip goes, hippies with gold cards. For all its good intentions, the market is one of those unmistakably see-and-be-seen Cape Town venues, and seems to have become the hunting ground of the film set crew and attached nubiles.

Serving up lavish helpings of organic, wholesome fare, regular visitors can be spotted with large loaves of wood-fired bread and lush veg tucked safely under their arms as they proceed to get rather unelegantly wasted at the bloody mary/mojito tent. This often leads to women with low-slung hipsters inspired by the plumbing industry, sprawling over the plastic-covered hay bales. This seems to be an ideal venue for discussing preferred waxing methods, cigarettes dangling a la Andy Capp. This led my husband to off-handedly remark that should those bales catch fire, nether-region waxing would become a concern of the past.

That said, the charm of the market lies in what it purports to be selling: good, old-fashioned values in the form of Real Food and Slow Living. And we’re all wanting a slice of that home-made pie. My issue is not the market itself, nor the current fad of all things vintage, but rather the fact that we’re all buying into an idea that we could quite easily achieve in our own backyards . Without the premium.

Even the clever name, NeighbourGOODS Market, instead of Neighbourhood Market, hints at our strong focus on product rather than people. Whilst we think we’re reconnecting with the wholesomeness within, we’re really only reconnecting with our bank cards. The reality of a market such as this is that it’s selling ideals. The kind where we all spend time with our grannies, aunts and uncles. Where the dodgy neighbour with the comb-over comes round for scones without suspicions of paedophilia, and is appreciated for his good humour and eccentric scientific dabblings. You see, you really don’t need to waste your hard-earned cash on a so-called antique colander that Aunt Doris would quite happily hand over post-hummus and blinis on some idle Sunday afternoon lunch.

It reminds me of a certain “green” retail outlet that tried to sell driftwood last festive season at R185 a pop. Driftwood – the stuff you get for free at the beach. The irony is that we’re all so busy at the office earning money to buy things we don’ really need and could probably get for free, a dose of sunshine thrown in to boot. I was so appalled by the driftwood incident that it prompted me to unceremoniously cancel Christmas, turning it into an old-school family luncheon instead. No baubels. No trinkets. No tinsel. It was our best Christmas yet.

What we’re actually yearning for is a reconnection, and we’re even willing to buy it. Trouble is, what we’re looking for cannot be bought. We need to start focusing on truly living, and realise that we don’t need to work harder to pay for it. It’s all out there, ready for the taking, gratis.