There is a tiny town nestled between Detroit proper and
where I live called Ferndale. Ferndale
hugs Woodward Avenue (called Detroit’s “Main Street,” it runs from the
riverfront and the tunnel to Canada to the city of Pontiac). It’s primarily a residential city of 20,000
but has come into its own within the past twenty years – primarily because it
was the first city in Michigan to elect an openly-gay mayor.
“Fantabulous Ferndale,” as a town, has been completely
revitalized – it’s liberal, progressive, and has a high LGBTQ population. Known for its prominent gay-friendly
policies, too, it’s become a hotbed for growth in the retail and hospitality
industries. If you’re visiting Detroit
and have the time, you might want to give Ferndale a look-see, because I doubt
you’ll be disappointed.
There’s always something (someone?) to look at in
Ferndale. Due to its popularity with
younger people, people-watching is a definite pastime while sitting on the café
patios or while window shopping. I had
to go there a few weeks ago to run some errands that could only be accomplished
in Ferndale, and sure enough, the main drag didn’t disappoint. It never matters whether one is there for
business or pleasure.
Case in point to my visit was the guy on the bicycle who was
wearing basketball shorts down to his calves with an obvious pair of extremely
tight briefs underneath; lines were clearly visible (didn’t hurt that he had
facial hair and was being environmentally responsible, either). On the flip side, there was also the guy at a
bus stop – shirtless, good-looking in a stoner-kind-of-way, but rocking back
and forth in a I’m-lost-I-don’t-know-where-my-clothes-are-or-where-I-live
haze. Even though I was driving by, it was obvious he wasn’t
wearing any undershorts. (Which probably
explains some of his confusion. Hhrrmm.)
My massage therapist is in Ferndale, and
although Luke is straight, he definitely fits in to the Ferndale image, too –
good-looking, tattoos, piercings, liberal, anti-establishment.
Ferndale is one of those cities with “character,” because
it’s filled with “characters.” It’s got
kitsch, used bookstores, tattoo parlors, popular restaurants, and some really
great old houses (on the western side of Woodward, anyway). The only thing that stopped Tom and I from
buying a house there, since we would have been surrounded by “our people,” was
the fact it borders Detroit, and some crime inevitably spills over Eight Mile
Road and into the city. Still, I give
the city credit – the police are vigilant, and the people are accepting. In 2006, it passed an anti-discrimination
ordinance, and it was the home of Motor City Pride for many years, but the event
grew and eventually moved to Hart Plaza in Detroit.
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