Mill Valley Malaise
I must agree with John Cross and Leslie Maendl [“Self-assuming assholes,” and “Where’s the Mellow?,” Letters, May 8]. I suggest they consider a move to Fairfax. Here is the lead-in to a story I did on this unique hamlet that appeared in Siliconeer magazine in August, 2014:
“This is a tale of a village. A village unique, and not so unique. A hamlet minutes away from lush, green (the current drought notwithstanding) farms where dairy cattle roam free, the inimitable Point Reyes National Seashore and a serene Native American maid watches over the residents. Everywhere are majestic and colossal redwood trees, particularly found in the numerous neighborhood parks. The village celebrates an inclusive culture surrounded by an environment at the opposite pole of its neighboring society.
When I first moved to the hamlet of Fairfax, in the renowned Northern California riches of Marin County, I followed my usual program when first visiting at an unknown locale: Find a corner of local activity and observe. This took me to the Coffee Roastery, a ‘hangout’ where the inhabitants indulge in exotic coffee refreshments, fair-trade coffee from around the world, light food offerings and seductive pastries. Some five days later, sipping on a double macchiato, a sudden revelation enveloped me. I thought, ‘This is a strange arrangement. This isn’t Marin County; this is Berkeley.’
Ah, yes; Berkeley, the mythical Mecca of Beatkniks, Hippies, artists, musicians, poets, etc. And here I sat, in one of the richest counties in the country, surrounded by gray-haired ponytails and faded tie-dyes of aging Deadheads, teen-aged Goths, nascent and hopeful writers, artists and, at times, familiar faces of famed musicians, such as Joan Baez visiting her son, and followers—both successful and nascent—of the many genres of the art world, escaping the mythic hot tub and peacock feather provenance of outer Marin. The small town of Fairfax seems to draw people from around the world and often [they can be] found in the Roastery.”
Alfred Auger, Fairfax
Where’s the mellow? Marin, eclectic yet yuppified, physically more beautiful than the lesser counties of… scratch that thought! Just because a coffee shop is full of storefront hippies and some music legends stroll the streets… that only lends some partial substantiation! Moneybag Marin is overwhelmed by pricy RE, power yuppies, stressed residents, overcrowding, car jams, huge taxes and snotty insular wannabes—let’s call them ‘provincial hillbillies’ —these groovy, sanctimonious locals convinced their little hamlet is superlative, superior, unique; ah, the magic of Marin County, where 90% of the residents collide on about 10% of the land mass–like thousands of ants stuck on promises of organic peanut butter “I can’t trust whole foods anymore…sob…” I left in 1999 to the Sierra, and often enjoy a refreshing dose of territorial provincialism reading letters and commentary. One big dose of wingnut attitude sustains me for months, and nowhere on earth does this occur as often as in Marin. Even bikers, those bastions of free ranging, wane whimsical over Marin. Still, I miss the spectacular coastline, and the 2 AM club.
Which bikers are you referring to? The twits in their clown suits clogging up the roads, or the Gypsy Jokers who used to hang out at Pango Pango on Lincoln ? 🙂