Enjoying & Championing the High Street
The Fabric of our Towns - A Cultural Cinematic Screenshot
Welcome to my latest wellbeing post. Make yourself comfy and grab a hot drink! Here, I present to you this short essay, based on the idea that we can reduce screen and online shopping time, and instead, fully immerse ourselves into the fabric of our towns to find wellbeing in connection, participation and ‘the moment’.
Awakening
My early hours can be precious. The silent awakening, where only gentle birdsong stirs the grasses of the field that I can see from my bedroom window. The spring sun gently warms and gathers its strength, intensifying in the east, momentarily golden - like egg yolk, until fully risen.
It’s the same out in the local high street. That gentle stirring, quiet around the silence, the shop fronts bathed in a brand-new semi-dawn. Musings of how the day might unfold. Clean and hushed avenues that flaunt historic, timber framed buildings, wrapped in a morning glow. When the town awakens, the shutters lifted, the shop fronts are opportunistic, showing their personalities through their wares. Nine am - ‘Open’ signs are displayed, ‘A’ boards perched outside on pavements. That still silence of the hour eventually evaporates into fully animated scenes; the energising traffic of society – the commuters, the dog walkers, and eventually, the shoppers.
Slowing Down
I love the high street. I find it alarming that our high streets in the UK, as we once knew them (if you are of a certain age of course), are disappearing at an ever-increasing rate. Granted, not all high streets are created equal, but there are many out there that hold a real decadence. York, with its flair for historic charm routed through its cobbled streets of stone. The pretty chocolate box presentation that is Stow-on-the-Wold, with its charming antique shops and England’s oldest inn.
There are many, many more of course. Yet that sensory and emotional craving for familiarity, aside tourist appeal, does not ring true in everyone’s hearts. While the perceived convenience of shopping through the window of a device reigns supreme, we’ve possibly lost our ability to appreciate and embrace the true romanticism of the high street. Of actually making a plan to ‘go out,’ whether that be for a couple of hours, or more. Window shopping, I loved - being inspired in real time with items you could touch, feel and try on.
Shocking facts reveal, however, that around 13,479 high street stores shut for good last year, according to fresh research, published recently, from the Centre for Retail Research. That is an astonishing figure and it’s one that is surely set to be on the rise.
Most days I find myself in a tailspin just trying to keep up with the latest advances in technology, passwords, apps, online shopping and protecting myself against the latest online scam. Coupled with a pace of life that just seems super elevated, and massively overrated, I find myself reminiscing more and more about how things used to be, and not that long ago either, relatively speaking. Maybe these thoughts are age related – I grew up through the late seventies / eighties, by late 1990 I’d turned 18. Perhaps then, every generation gets to experience similar thinking at some point later in life.
For me, it’s more than that, though. I find myself wanting to challenge various norms, as I seek to support moves towards a ‘slower’ life with a view to enhancing my wellbeing.
In comparison to ‘convenience’, the alternative options might seem bizarre, but it’s all about simplifying things, taking a step back, and not getting overwhelmed. Maybe it’s even about doing more with less – in the case of high street shopping, you might say less choice. That said, I don’t think it’s that clear cut, because you can still introduce choice, all you need to do is a bit more planning – be intentional. Not all your high street shopping has to happen in the same town, for example. I think this kind of advance thought process helps us to be more purposeful and potentially reduce waste – this, over endless browsing and impulsive clicking. Yes please!
Being Present in the Moment
I’m lucky enough to still have access to a relatively local, thriving high street. I can get to a post office to buy stamps to send real letters. There are cafes offering homemade food, and independent coffee shops. There’s a record store, an antiques arcade, a Boots chemist, a sustainable lifestyle store, independent clothes shops, an independent and charming chemist selling bespoke jewellery and other treasures, plus plenty of charity shops, and more! When the closure of ‘non-essential’ shops happened during the first covid lock down, I really felt it. Gone was my excursion to WHSmith to buy my chosen monthly magazines, a ritual I really love. Isn’t it quicker and easier to download a digital copy to a device? Yes! But it’s not the same. There seems to me, a lack of intimacy in doing that.
As for books, I love to browse. I could never replace a physical book. Firstly, reading for me is very much an ‘in bed’ activity and somehow, the thought of opening a device to perform these gentle activities, either prior to sleep or during a lazy Sunday morning, kind of invades my quiet space. Secondly, I love books, as in actual physical books. I want to smell them and feel the weight of the smooth paper as I turn the pages. I want to turn over that solid hard back in my hands, feeling its weight while admiring its exquisite cover art. I want to give it pride of place on my bookshelves. I want to be able to randomly dip in and out of its pages.
When I go to the high street something substantial happens that cannot be experienced from the emotionless click of a button; the purchasing of endless items I cannot even touch, feel or smell – none of my senses engaged. Actions that are somehow devoid of any real interaction as I know it, other than their image on a device or screen, colours and textures muted by their digital personality suppressant. You see, the high street isn’t just a place to buy things. It’s more than that. It’s almost like an emotional history. While others click away, anonymous to the faceless online seller platforms - click to click, click to parcel, gamble, sell, repeat, they miss out on the very essence of being immersed in the moment – the backdrop that is the very fabric of our towns.
Thrift stores and antique arcades bring their distinct tones of retro; vintage treasures disguised between racks of other stories – maybe you can hear a grandfather clock tick or chime. Here, we can identify vehicles to express our personalities – find our perfect companions in keep sakes. The feel and touch of books, and yes, their smell. New pages. Old pages - pages with an aroma of time. Perhaps the books hold much dust – ah, the 2nd hand bookshop.
To go out is to engage and be part of something. To tentatively walk the cobbles, look up to the skies, the scent of foods at the farmers market drifting on the breeze. Opportunities to purchase flowers, plants, homemade cakes and artisan cheese – the most creative and diverse artisans brought together in one bustling and vibrant street – a corner of the town that for today, is alive.
As daylight fades and when monochrome skies prevail, we head to the sanctuary and warmth of an independent coffee shop. We set down our bags, rest our feet and feel the steam from fragrant blends - hot comfort now cupped inside the embrace of one’s hands. Time to contemplate as condensation evaporates from the window to reveal shoppers still striding by outside. The tide. The ebbs and flows upon the pavements.
You are part of this very fabric, caught within this cultural cinematic screenshot, of which not everyone part-takes in.
Yes, we can do more with less. A simple life with a normality we were once perhaps party too – least those of a certain age. A bus into town to meet friends, to shop, to browse, to feel, touch and handle. Real records – remember those? Vinyl. Release days, record store day, sales, changing room gymnastics. Is life really better online? Or are we just flooded with too much choice, consequently generating more waste? When did we become less immersed, yet more expectant?
Conclusion
I have concluded that life by a description and a photo is like painting by numbers. Sometimes it’s like being partially blind, and having the senses numbed. And, too much screen time wreaks havoc with our wellbeing. It does not preserve tradition or community. Nor does it create a place to feel something - experiences.
So then, let’s continue to support the high street, championing authenticity with our passion and our pride.