what are people wearing at berkeley bowl?
from sourdough clog moms to braless linen vegans, a field guide to six style archetypes at the famed grocery store—and which aisle you'll find them in.
If you’re not familiar with the Bay Area, then your perception of Berkeley is likely shaped by its three largest cultural exports: UC Berkeley, Chez Panisse, and Berkeley Bowl.
All three places offer prime people-watching, but my favorite is Berkeley Bowl: a grocery store that is much, much more than just a grocery store. It is an anthropological goldmine.
Founded in the ‘70s by Japanese-American “produce guru” Glenn Yasuda and his wife Diane, the store captures the ethos of Northern Californian food culture. Whatever buzzword du jour you want to use—granola, earthy, slow food, farm to table, crunchy—people take their produce VERY seriously here.
Stepping into Berkeley Bowl flings you right into the chaotic center of that culture, the good and the bad.
There are obvious praises to be sung. At Berkeley Bowl, the produce is hyper-seasonal and generous in variety; you can find the elusive kishu tangerine and try 20 kinds of apples. (Monterey Market produce is superior in my opinion, but the difference is marginal in comparison to the average American grocery).
To be clear, it is nothing like Erewhon. Erewhon sells “food” ($15 cubed organic pineapple, $20 alkaline *cancer-curing* water, celebrity-branded smoothies) to be “consumed” (posted on Instagram stories). You go there to be cosplay being rich and hot and fake read your Eve Babitz book in the outdoor patio. And that has its place in the world. I love going there when I’m in LA and in the mood to be scammed and eavesdrop on failed actors.
Berkeley Bowl, however, sells radishes with dirt clumps still on their tails, loose smoked cumin that you scoop into a little brown bag, kombucha on tap from an ancient mother SCOBY. They are selling food that is actually eaten, not yet stripped of its corporeal essence. It’s by no means “affordable,” but your dollar goes much further.
Now onto the drawbacks.
Shopping there is universally known to be an anxiety-inducing journey through a circus of crotchety, entitled, and oblivious characters.
Below, one of the most popular threads in the Berkeley subreddit:
In the comments, folks share their harm reduction tips (mine is opting for the BB West location):
“go at like 12pm on a weekday when the millennial family demographic is too busy doing remote work warcrimes to start a fight over organic bananas or the last carton of cauliflower gratin”
And they vent about the annoying more-organic-than-thou patrons:
“Not sure where your Pickled Himalayan Yak Farts are? By all means, zigzag in leisurely manner while the aisle behind you backs up with people trying to get past. Every time, I just want to scream MOVE, YOU DUMB BITCH”
This isn’t a result of post-pandemic antisocial behavior, either. It’s always been like this. In 2008, LA Times journalist John M. Glionna wrote a story about the “madcap” behavior at the store (which resulted in him getting banned…Berkeley Bowl if you’re reading this please don’t ban me).
Its mythology and institutionality is what ascribes cultural meaning to Berkeley Bowl, and why we can glean humorous social insights from what shoppers are wearing and eating.
So, are you ready?? I managed to score a very good parking spot. Let’s do this.
I present to you…a style tour through the aisles of Berkeley Bowl.
There are six style archetypes.
Which one are you?
1). Bulk Aisle—boomer hippies in orthopedic footwear.
Here you will find the OG gorpcore elders buying their nuts and dried fruit by the pound, to make a granola that is so fibrous, so pellet-y it could pass as dog kibble.
They love to wear Keens and Merrells of all kinds. Sneakers, sandals, hiking boots, clogs, anything with a vibram sole and arch support is music to their ears. Their shoes are replaced every 10 years, but their clothes? They haven’t shopped for new clothes since 1998. Email account is hosted by earthlink (and they still pay $6 a month for it…)
This is also the boomer hippie demographic that has a reputation for being….well, “quirky” at best and entitled at worst—leaving their carts right in the middle of the aisle, reaching right in front of your face to get their roasted paprika chickpeas. I mean, it’s the #1 stereotype of the “annoying BB shopper” for a reason. An astute comment on Reddit describes them as “academic types sitting on houses worth 200 times what they paid for them back in 1964.” (Ahem, beneficiaries of redlining).
Of course, there are exceptions and there is antisocial behavior on display from ALL ages lol. If an unattended cart is parked right in the flow of traffic, I have no problem giving it a lil kick so it’s off to the side.
Hunter-gatherer mode ACTIVATED. Let’s keep it moving.
2). Bread Aisle—kicking it with the clog moms.
What is it about clog people and sourdough that just…make sense together? Among the Grainsong Round River Walnut and Seashore Rye, you’ll spot the usual suspects—Birkenstock Bostons and Danksos.
The ones that capture my fancy are the colorful hooves worn by the clog moms. Rachel Comey or No. 6 is she’s into eclectic fashion and works in marketing for a tech company. Hasbeens or Charlotte Stone if she is kitschy and works at a nonprofit. Bryr if she is an elder millennial who never skips the West Coast Craft Fair at Fort Mason.
She can also be seen disassociating in the checkout line after realizing how much she has to spend on berries (for the children) every week.
The Barney pink ones on the right stopped me in my tracks. The magenta with the fuschia is so fresh, like the first sip of a grape soda. I did some style sleuthing and they are from. Charlotte Stone—limited sizes in this color but lots in *merlot* which I would definitely pair with electric blue socks.
But I think the most ENCHANTING pair of shoes I saw were these red gardening clogs with holes in them, which coincidentally matched the strawberries in her shopping basket.
These strawberry seed clogs are now on my spring wishlist, available here: