People watching

These days I take special delight in noticing, and then the realization that I have noticed, those moments that make me pause and think, "Only in Alaska." These are becoming more and more rare for me... I rue the day they no longer happen.

Posted on the bulletin board in the arctic entry of a local coffee shop (and paraphrased here from my recollection):

It happened so quickly...
You: Carhartts and Xtra Tuffs.
Me, exiting the men's bathroom, black hat, black fleece, beard.

Spark?

And a phone number. I laughed out loud. No, it wasn't me. But I guess it could have been...

But only in Alaska would this not be about two men. Although it could have been...

I enjoyed this post by Subarctic Mama so much, I'm reposting it in full. Please visit her site for a great narrative on life in Fairbanks!


Anchored Down in Fanchorage: Welcome to What Was Once Fairbanks
Published October 29th, 2007

Hey Fairbanksans, here’s a new word for you. Coined two days ago by my banjo-pickin’, chicken-raisin’, wine-makin’ husband:

Fanchorage: 1. (noun) the east end of the Johansen Expressway in Fairbanks, Alaska, once an empty lot filled with willow, now sprouting box stores like Fairbanks men sprout beards in October. 2. (noun) locations in Alaska suffering from tendency to become more and more like Outside (and thus more and more like Anchorage). Note: with the change of a letter this can be applied to other towns. i.e. Juneau = Janchorage, Wasilla = Wanchorage.

Related Term:

Fanchorageites: (noun) the people who populate the box stores at the end of the Johansen Expressway. They seem to have been imported. A Fairbanksan can go into these stores and see no one that he or she knows. Going anywhere in Fairbanks and not bumping into five people you know is not normal.

Suggested usage: “Wow, since I drove past Fanchorage on my to work this morning, they’ve added three new box stores.”

Fairbanksans, please forward this post and use this word often, until it is as well-seated in our local lexicon as “ice fog,” “dry cabin” “Outside,” and “bunny boot.” While you’re at it, remember to work in “ruralsexual” as well. If we work together, we can enrich our vocabulary.

A word of explanation for my readers Outside: In the past two years our town, long ignored by the box store phenomenon, has become infested. The flare up is currently located at the intersection of the Old Steese Highway and the Johansen Expressway. If any of you have an ointment or poultice we can apply to rid ourselves of this, please send the recipe along.

My personal apologies to all my good friends who live in Anchorage and read this blog. The dark is already getting to me.

AK Radio featured Alaska Fashion as a topic two weeks ago. The show centered around interviews that took place right here in Ester, at the Golden Eagle Saloon. I missed the interviews and the show when it aired, but I heard about it later. The Calendar even got a mention...

Deirdre made a statement to the effect that Alaskan women have practical, laborious tasks to perform, which play a significant role in our wardrobe choices. Does this underly the difference between Alaskan style and Lower 48 style? Definitely to an extent.

I didn't own a pair of Carhartt's before moving here; but I also had not had many opportunities in suburban Washington, D.C. to drive an F-350 (let alone pull a 4-place trailer), ride an ATV or snowmachine, chop wood to heat the house, build a compost pile, or haul my own water. Deirdre also suggested that class consciousness plays less of a role in wardrobe choice here than in the Lower 48 (at least, in metropolitan areas). There could be some truth to this. I don't pack my Carhartt's while traveling Outside and admit to a mad flurry of trying on clothes I haven't worn since moving here before every vacation. Observe: suburban Washington, D.C. me wearing "business casual" (not on a business trip).

On the other hand, I'm not wearing makeup in this picture and don't have any product in my hair (and trust me, I was the only woman in the room who could make either claim); and it didn't bother me one bit. I gave up makeup long before moving to Alaska, and I haven't worn product in my hair since the 80's. I'm happy not to feel compelled to wear high heels to work every day. But sometimes, I still think it's fun to find an excuse to dress up. And much like one of the women interviewed keeps a tube of red lipstick tucked away in her cabin, I keep all of the suits and heels and fancy dresses. Because you have to be prepared for anything. That, I think, is the essence of Alaskan fashion.

I was especially sleepy on my way to work this morning; a coffee stop was a must. While I waited in line at the Alaska Coffee Roasters drive up, I almost had to pinch myself. The smell of wet vegetation and tobacco smoke, coming from the outstretched arm of the woman in the truck behind me, made me think, for a fleeting moment, I was back in Virginia. But my idling car didn't belong at Vienna's Jammin Java, South Capitol's walk-up cafés, or even a Northern Virginia Starbucks; and despite the recent rain, the air was not quite damp enough.

I headed to the local/chain fabric store for a bigger selection than I find in Fairbanks. I want to cover some cushions for outdoor furniture (a couch for the porch... but patio furniture, not vole-infested, former living room furniture). I am so excited about the fabrics I found!