The Business Journal is reporting that taxable sales are down state-wide—$17.4M (or 12%) down, actually. In the Valley, city averages vary in comparison:
Fresno’s taxable sales fell by 13.5 percent while Clovis showed a 7.8 percent decline. Visalia dropped 10 percent, Madera fell 7.7 percent and Hanford was set back 7.6 percent.
I was going to comment on how this may or may not relate to the Why I Buy Local campaign (which focuses on sales tax revenue), but upon second look at the article, I see it’s irrelevant: the data used compares Q4 2008 to Q4 2007.
Still, I wonder why there’s such a difference between Fresno and surrounding communities. (That’s a question.)
I suppose I’ll have to revisit this topic when the California Board of Equalization posts info from last year. See you next year.
It’s Friday, and after a long, rainy week, that’s a perfect excuse to take a break from writing (and reading) to watch a little SouthPark. In Season 8’s Something Wall-Mart This Way Comes, the characters explore the pleasures and pitfalls of supporting big box retail (and growing it from within the community). Nothing I write can capture so many themes of consumerism in such an insightful educational entertaining way…
One of my initial criticisms of the Why I Buy Local campaign was its nebulous definition of “local.” According to campaign messages (which, to my knowledge, have only been communicated by a generic television commercial and the campaign’s site), buying local simply means not driving out of the area to shop—in San Francisco, for example—and not purchasing online items that can be bought in the community. Or in the surrounding communities. Or anywhere in the Valley.
Let’s put that another way: purchasing oranges from Wal-Mart that were shipped in from Florida is, by this campaign’s definition, buying local, as long as I didn’t drive to a Wal-Mart out of town. That just doesn’t sit right with me.
So, in crafting my own experiment, I decided on the opposite: a highly acute definition of local. And that’s where things get complicated.
I need coffee. I could find substitutes for the caffeine, but coffee is engrained in my daily rituals—it’s what I drink when I work in a third space, like Revue. But Revue buys that coffee from someone, and even if they purchase directly from the grower (they don’t), that grower isn’t local. Coffee doesn’t grow here.
While I know at least one local roaster, I don’t brew much coffee myself (again, I like third spaces), and it’s cheaper for local coffee shops to purchase from wholesalers. Or Costco (yes, I’m still talking about you, Revue).
If I drive half a mile from my home in Sunnyside, I can lose myself in orchards and farmland. Stuff grows here—fresh, healthy, good-for-you stuff. But it gets picked before it’s ripe so that it can be shipped out of the area, packaged, and then shipped by to area grocery stores.
Even SaveMart, which has Valley roots, buys in to this model; if you don’t believe me, ask someone in the produce section to identify what was sourced from local farmers. Fortunately, we have a growing selection of farmers markets, though those offer slim pickins’ this time of year.
Kern is home to one of the largest oil fields in the nation (and to 85% of the state’s 43,000 active oil wells), but even if that’s considered a local source of crude oil, it’s highly unlikely that the gas I buy at a gas station in Fresno (whether that’s locally owned or franchised) was refined locally, or shipped by a locally owned fleet.
Those are just a few examples of the complexities of “local,” which have been exposed by this experiment. I’m gathering insights from others on what all of this means—or what it can mean—and will post those for follow-up discussion.
Chime in: What does “local” mean to you?
