St. Petersburg didn’t always feel this homey. The murals that were splashed onto alley walls in the recent years and the revival of antique indications of buildings’ ages are a recent trend that has brought the Sunshine City back to life.
North St. Petersburg is a region of urban sprawl and decay, perhaps due to cheap building manufacturing. Everything feels so worn, between the recovering economy and time warp sensation. There are constant mounds of dirt being shoved back and forth until a new shopping plaza is built on top, only the be knocked down five years later when shoppers are bored of the latest TJ Maxx offerings.
This up and down of construction is exhausting. Imagine my joy to happen upon a decades-old bookstore, my beloved Haslam’s. There’s something refreshing in reveling in the pre-existent, a place that even Jack Kerouac haunts. My favorite taco spot, Casita Taqueria, is a renovated garage that still hosts a rolling glass door.
Maybe it’s eco-friendly that we recycle Coke bottles into flower vases. Or it’s the trendy, shabby-chic look. Hipsters brag about the consignment jeans they altered for their latest look. We shop through Goodwill and Salvation Army in search of a table can spray paint a modern gold for budget and for style.
But sometimes I wish I could have sat on one of St. Petersburg’s legendary green benches. Instead, I sit at a brewery named for them, and I find myself pining for that opportunity.
Our city once made an effort to modernize everything it touched. Everything suddenly had sharp, square edges or crisp colors that matched the trends. These efforts to destroy and build tear at what’s beautiful.
Renovations without demolition could transform the historic YMCA- a concert hall, a library, a home for entrepreneurial start-ups. Developer Michael Mincberg is turning the old Euclid Elementary school from a red brick memory into luxurious, one-bedroom lofts less than a mile from downtown.
The profits lie in rejuvenation. College students populate the neighborhoods Old Northeast, Old Southeast, Big Bayou, Kenwood, and more. I welcome new, but I want more places like the Renaissance Vinoy or Harbor Hall, the previous home of the Dali Museum.
What’s cheap, comfortable and trendy are on the minds of co-eds, in housing or in happiness. It’s kind of a source of pride to see that my generation isn’t obsessed with tearing away for something new.
Maybe one day I’ll sit on a decades-old green bench.
