Landry hasn’t shopped at a chain in years, but then he also hasn’t bought electronics or many new clothes since 2004. A friend of his jokes that Landry’s “whole world is ten blocks wide.” But while off-peninsula goods are verboten, off-peninsula dough is just fine. Landry works for two out-of-state temp agencies, Donoghue’s AAA is a national corporation, and my paycheck comes from the Phoenix offices in Boston. If we were purists, we’d turn the money down. So, how local should you go?
“How local should a person go? That’s a loaded question,” Landry says. “As locally as their pocketbooks will stand.”
Inconvenience store
My week of buying obsessively locally included about an hour and a half’s worth of walking every day. At first, I planned to eat only locally grown produce, but the options on the peninsula to shop both locally owned and locally grown are limited. (During the winter, you can find root vegetables and the occasional hothouse-grown tomato and head of lettuce, but there’s a good chance you’d starve to death if you didn’t eat things from away. Most people who obsess about eating locally keep a root cellar, where they store off-season veggies to supplement the sparse winter diet.) I shopped at the Public Market House, where I found some out-of-state pasta and sauce at a price comparable to the supermarket, a couple of local tomatoes, and an onion. I bought some dental floss and tissues at the Old Port Pharmacy, for about a dollar more each than I would have paid at Hannaford. I found my favorite Italian cookies, an obscure brand called Macine, at Micucci Grocery on India Street. They were imported from 3500 miles away.
Overall, my local shopping experience brought me to shops I’d never tried before, though I did have trouble finding enough diverse food to sustain a week’s worth of meals. My week of schlepping around on foot also meant I ran into acquaintances and former school buddies on the street, something that doesn’t happen much when you’re driving around in your car. This can be a benefit or a deterrent to localism, depending on your mood.
Mostly, living, walking, and shopping locally means a slower pace of life and some distinct inconveniences. Late in the week, I would have liked to pick up a few cheap pairs of dress socks and a new turtleneck. I didn’t find what I needed at locally owned Material Objects, but I did find a perfect little cashmere number at Bliss, if I’d been willing to shell out $250 for it. I also considered taking the bus off the peninsula to shop at Rosemont Market, which has a great selection of local produce and meats. But that planned excursion ended up landing on the day a blizzard blew through town, my throat felt sore, and I had a bunch of duties to take care of in the office. In other words, I couldn’t be bothered.
