Subtle differences set a neighborhood apart.
There’s a little neighborhood called Avondale between West Ashley’s identity crisis as a kind-of-gentrifying Charleston neighborhood and the refined, established downtown area. The first time I heard the name Avondale, I liked the sound of it and planned to see it. As it turned out, the place was so small I’d roared through it on my way somewhere several times without noticing.
The hub of Avondale is basically an intersection of a major 4-lane highway and a smaller two-lane road. The city put some crosswalks in to accommodate foot traffic, and voila! In came the bars, restaurants, boutiques, barber shops, and more. On the large triangular peninsula of land where the two-lane road and the highway merge sits a bar/restaurant called, appropriately, Triangle Char and Bar. Across the roads are two long strips of shops, entertainment, restaurants, and curiosities.
Yesterday I went exploring there, looking for relaxation on the cusp of a new week. It was the first time I’d put my feet on the ground in that neighborhood… and it felt intriguingly different than other places I’d been in Charleston.
Why was it so different?
The infrastructure and social structure around me was quite similar to the rest of Charleston. What was it that made this corner feel like putting on your favorite pair of slippers – so comfortable?
Then I realized… it was the weeds.
Other streets in Charleston don’t have weeds. (Check my other pictures if you like.) They are principled and impeccable, down to the spotless sidewalks. Downtown is a showplace where you’re afraid to sit on anything. After so much of these intimidatingly perfect, well-groomed, well-brunched streets around downtown, the streets of Avondale felt relaxed, down to earth, real in a way that other places in the city didn’t. They had weeds.
It’s still a beautiful place! Every storefront strives to add its dash of flavor, and the result is pleasing. The oysters at Pearlz were fantastic, the truffle tots with green curry sauce at Voodoo put a smile on my face, and when it’s not Sunday afternoon the shopping would be fantastic, too.
My favorite storefront was a bright-blue barber shop with a wrought-iron hanging basket. On Queen Street downtown, these flowers would have been real. But you don’t go to Avondale for real flowers. You go to Avondale for real flowers. Flowers that real people with real lives and real schedules put there with real money that they really worked hard to earn, and then still doubt they have enough to maintain both store rent and a real flower box.
In some way, aren’t those fabric flowers more real than the ones in tenderly manicured window-boxes?
To me, they seemed to be.
Sometimes you need a neighborhood you can relate to… one that’s let its weeds grow and opted for low-maintenance window-boxes.
~ The Dauntless Princess ~
