having a moan: artisan markets

On the weekend we popped in at this market, looking for some supper, a drink and a change from the usual supper/bath/bed (kids)/copious wine/arbing on the internet/bed (us) routine.

Looks pretty hey? It was so pretty - twinkly lights, bunting, a live band, beautiful people, pretty things - a very pretty Cape Town kinda experience.

But, sigh, I'm afraid I left feeling a little underwhelmed.

My intention is not to belittle the creativity of anyone trading their wares, there were very many uniquely lovely things, as well as a good number of pure genius lust-haves, and I'm genuinely respectful and empathetic of anyone who has the balls to put their work out there - craft, writing etc - but the overarching aesthetic was so ... same-y.
By the time we had ambled past all the stalls and back out into the gathering dark the whole market had fallen into one visual folder in my head, with only a few items standing out from the crowd.

This is what that folder looks like:

Stuff:
hessian cloth
stripey ribbon
white
bunnies
birds
brown paper

Words:
organic
vintage-style
signature
gifting
conscious
re-invented

Smells:
coffee
chocolate
pretension

Read together these words evoke a pretty picture, and I feel so very Grinchy finding fault with that. I love living in a city where people create, I love being able to nip out to a market to see what they've been up to.

But I can't help but feel we're missing something when an 'artisan market' becomes predictable.
Predictable is why I avoid malls.