The nicest surprise of the spring so far for me has been the opening of a new coffee shop down in a once-forgotten end of Ferndale. And no, this is not an advertorial.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about neighborhood businesses. It’s partly a reflection of my station in life: As a father who fields unsolicited mailers from AARP, I no longer care much about being where the action is, and I’m usually content to stay put. I’m interested in ways to improve the neighborhood where I work (from home) and spend so much time, and I’m firmly on record as being sick to death of driving. To paraphrase a fellow Ferndalean friend, “Let the people who don’t live in Ferndale have the downtown, we’ll go to the local places.”
I’ve always loved neighborhood businesses. I believe they add immeasurable value, identity and sense of place. They personalize a community, like a little surprise you discover when you’re exploring some unfamiliar new city on foot.
But these days they’re almost nonexistent around metro Detroit.
The southern end of Ferndale where I live is dominated by car dealerships, fast food and cemeteries. I can walk or bike to the downtown, and it’s a pleasant stroll through the neighborhood and quiet, low-speed streets, but it’s a mile away. The areas near me zoned for commercial or mixed use have generally been slow to revitalize themselves.
Last month, Dessert Oasis opened a new store in an old warehouse on Hilton Street, a mixed-use light industrial-commercial strip lined by low-slung, often vacant and windowless brick and cinderblock buildings. As a public eating and gathering place, Dessert Oasis is the first of its kind in this corner of Ferndale.
A note here that this probably didn’t come about purely by happenstance. In 2016, the city put Hilton on a road diet, lowered the speed limit and put in dedicated bike lanes. Since then, offices, small businesses and artist studios have slowly been reclaiming the old buildings — no coincidence, I believe.
This is Dessert Oasis’ bakery headquarters, and fourth location. It’s a clean, airy space, with light streaming into a room filled with tables, chairs and a few couches and love seats — great for gathering in a group. High-top window seats provide a view of activity on the street and give a feel for the rhythm of the neighborhood. You see plenty of people out walking their dogs (the cafe is two blocks from a popular dog park — a smart move by the owners), and I am continually astonished by the proliferation of baby carriages in Ferndale, a place that not so long ago was closing and consolidating schools because the town had filled with young people who had no children.
Businesses like this one — opening in long-ignored districts outside the downtown — are becoming more common in Ferndale. Livernois Avenue, which also has bike lanes (protected, no less), is playing host to an increasing number of them, and there’s a cluster of small businesses on Woodward Heights (yep, bike lanes) that have established the neighborhood as a kind of in-the-know food and drink destination.
I wholeheartedly welcome the trend and encourage other cities to follow suit. I see old commercial spaces all the time that have fallen into disrepair that make me wish someone would fix up and open a restaurant, or a bar, or maybe a bakery where you can pick up a nice loaf of bread and some good coffee.
Always thought this building would make a great neighborhood corner bar. But given that’s barely a thing in Detroit, I doubt it could happen. Neighbors would squawk, zoning likely prohibits it, etc. It looks there’s an artist in there now, at least. pic.twitter.com/exAF1j24yh
— Sven Gustafson 🇺🇦 (@sveng) February 13, 2023
Outside of Hamtramck, Wyandotte and a few neighborhoods in Detroit where old neighborhood stores or bars survive, it’s not easy to find this kind of mom-and-pop commerce around here, especially in the suburbs. (Yes, the ones I’m describing in Ferndale aren’t technically integrated with residential neighborhoods, like they are in places like Chicago or Madison, Wisconsin, but I’ll take what we can get.) True mixed-use residential zoning here is exceedingly rare.
At some point, we collectively decided to strictly separate our work, entertainment, leisure and home lives from one another. But in a post-pandemic world in which so many of us are working from home, that kind of rigid physical segmentation no longer makes much sense.
Putting on my Jane Jacobs cap for a second, vibrant urban neighborhoods — the kinds this state desperately needs to cultivate to reverse its brain drain — are about much more than simply housing. And frankly, if we have any hope of reining in climate change, we will have to acknowledge the inefficiency and massive carbon footprint of living in places that force you to get in a car to run even the simplest of errands.
Businesses are often viewed as nuisances in the U.S., as noisy or garish places that generate traffic or unwelcome activity that should be relegated to their own devoted districts. Who can fault this when you think of them in terms of the godawful vistas of road signs and traffic signals lining wide, car-choked roads that make up so much of this country? No one wants that kind of thing on their block.
But having commerce in your neighborhood should become the goal, not something to discourage. They add a place to go and spend time, in the case of a bar or coffee shop, or they provide an opportunity to pick up essentials — a carton of milk, loaf of bread, or a light bulb — without having to resort to your vehicle to get you there. They get people out on the street, encourage exercise and build community. You get to know the people who dry clean your shirts. You get to know your neighbors, because you actually cross paths with them.
Lord knows we could all use opportunities to do just that.
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