A Walk Through Borough Market

A walk through Borough Market reveals an old-fashioned atmosphere and unmatched variety.

Kari Andren–January 22, 2007

(This was an article I wrote in London for a Feature Writing journalism class as an example of "color writing.")

Her blonde hair flops from side to side in a messy ponytail, wispy strands flying out carelessly in all directions. Her Barbie doll pink lipstick is smeared off her top lip, maybe because she applied it without a mirror, or maybe because she is five years old. As she wanders around Borough Market in her corduroy jumper and white tights holding a bouquet of fresh flowers, this little girl seems to capture the spirit of the market.

Like her, unspoiled by hairspray, lip liner or any number of other products designed to perfect her appearance, the market is a shopping thoroughfare unspoiled by most technology and other modern influences. Any given Saturday, hundreds of shoppers stroll through paved streets under the protection of the green, tent-like roofs looking for unusual foods or just stopping for lunch. They crowd around local vendors selling the freshest fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses, breads and wines in the area. Flower shops dot the market scene with baskets of freshly cut flowers, potted plants and ornate centerpieces.

The smells of fresh meats sizzling in ethnic spices and sauces and the sounds of various foreign languages permeate the air so that a walk around the entire market is like a tour around the globe. Nearly every European nationality seems to have found its niche, displaying proudly its special cuisines and ingredients and enticing everyone with samples.

Customers browse the food stalls holding hands with their significant other or looking after their children. No one is talking on a mobile or plotting dates in his Blackberry. Little is computerized; sellers take cash and make change themselves. Vendors mark their specials on blackboards with white chalk in front of their station and happily answer questions about their products from those passing by. A large man with a prickly beard can be heard shouting something periodically about his table of Clementine oranges being edible or in a bowl-no one seems to be sure of exactly what he is saying. Perhaps that is why his table is still full and shoppers are hesitant to stop.

In a congested intersection, a man remarks to his wife that he used to be able to get around the market without the crowds that appear so often now. One could reason that the market's reputation for unspoiled ambiance and unmatched variety are the cause of the increased traffic. Although the pace is slow at times, shoppers do not appear to hurry in browsing the expansive spread of goods.

Some customers carry their purchases in white plastic bags that say "If you can't find it here, it might not be worth eating." This seems to be the mentality of shopping in London, but by the variety of vendors and the conversations that swirl about the marketplace, the slogan on the bags seems more than fitting. Next to a French woman selling hot mulled wine is a sign above a wooden shelf advertising cans of goose fat for £3. No one appears to have bought any goose fat, but it is there at the market nonetheless.

The sheer variety can be seen in the hundreds of different wines and in the stand dedicated solely to different types of butter. Fruits and vegetables hailing from the far reaches of Europe or imported from more exotic locations fill the tables and bins of the produce vendors while expensive smoked fishes from various seas line another vendor's stand. In another corner of the market is a stand selling more varieties of olives than is known to the average person. Served from handmade wooden buckets with big, cupped wooden ladles, customers delight in the old-fashioned charm as well as in the numerous choices.

So, like the little girl with the messy hair and smeared lipstick, Borough Market maintains its position as one of London's most popular marketplaces while also retaining a sort of unsullied innocence. Its smells, tastes, sights and sounds seem as if they could be transported back in time to the market's childhood with few changes or alterations. An afternoon spent wandering the stands of the market may take customers back to a simpler time as well when they were young, carefree and perhaps wore a bit of smeared lipstick themselves.

###