Why I never jumped off the buy local bandwagon

Buying local is a big deal these days. Even the most multi-national of companies are trying to jump on the local bandwagon, focusing their marketing and advertising on convincing consumers that a corporation that manufactures its products all over the world and sells them in even more places is just as lovable as the Mom and Pop down the street.

This newfound interest in buying local always makes me smile. It’s not new here, of course. We’ve been driving the Buy Local bandwagon for 21 years this month, which is when the Advocate debuted. But it is fascinating that a concept that was a novelty when we started (and that earned us more than a few giggles and guffaws) has become so mainstream.

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No one is quite sure why consumers, after years of deciding that it was better to save 17 cents on a pair of sweatpants at the nearest outpost of the world’s largest retailer, changed their minds in favor of local. Maybe the recession focused our attention on how we’re spending our money, where it’s going, what’s in the product, where it’s made and who makes it. And we didn’t like what we found. Maybe the backlash against big business and the Wall Street excesses that helped cause the recession soured shoppers on the idea that big was always better.

Whatever the reason, it’s a good thing. There are literally dozens of studies that point out that communities are better off when their residents buy local. Two of the most interesting: A 2009 survey from the Center for Urban Research and Learning at Loyola University in Chicago that found that about one-quarter of the businesses within a four-mile radius of a new Chicago Walmart closed within two years, and a 2009 study by the Civic Economics consultancy in Austin reported that only 16 percent of the money spent at New Orleans SuperTargets stayed in the local economy, while local retailers returned almost one-third of their revenue.

So I buy my glasses at Barrett Optical in Old Town and my watch battery at Ralph Austin on Skillman and much of my wine at Jimmy’s and my breakfast at the Gold Rush and I find myself at Lakewood Ace once a month, whether I need anything or not. And yes, I find my painters and electricians and plumbers in the back of our magazine — and I’d do it even if I didn’t write for the Advocate. These people are literally my neighbors, and I’d rather give my money to them than to someone who sends it elsewhere.

I wish there was more I could do. But the irony behind the renewed interest in buying local is that may be too late. Local retailers have been decimated since we started the Advocate — not just here, but everywhere in the country. Gone are neighborhood bookstores, movie theaters, supermarkets, drug stores and the like, replaced by the big boxes that promised us better prices and more convenience but took something much more valuable from us in the process.

Call it community. I’m the son and grandson of Ohio small town retailers, men who sold blue jeans to farmers and knew their customers by name and what their families were doing and didn’t have to be reminded that someone took a 34-34 pair of pants. My grandfather loved his store in a way I find difficult to describe, and the day he had to sell it was as sad as I remember him. Can anyone say that about a big-box clerk, glancing at their watch to see if it’s time to go home? And I defy anyone to convince me that my grandfather’s downtown, which was emptied by Walmart, is an improvement.

Shouldn’t life be more than cheap sweatpants?