Words by: Sarah McCready (she/her)
I also cannot imagine anywhere else I may find a gorilla mask sold with such a welcoming smile.
The Barras identity is carved deep. In the stone pavements of the Calton streets, the smiles of vendors, and the iron-clad gates. Old and new meet, as innovation greets tradition in a way that is unique to the market. The Barra’s rich history and long cast of characters makes it an oddity. It thus remains important to interrogate how the market, founded in opposition to the Local Corporation, remains standing in defiance of the massive capitalist establishment.
When I arrive on Sunday morning, a grey sky hangs low over market vendors and visitors alike. I remember coming here when I was younger with my grandparents. The air would smell of cigarettes or incense, perhaps antiques. The streets were dominated by the sound of shouting, of counterfeit CDs, and the raucous exchange of buyer and seller. In the atmosphere hung a laughter, the intimacy of walking past people and streets that remained as you remembered them. There is nothing which indicates whether it’s 1997 or 2017; maybe you are basking in Glaswegian summer or clinging to the walls in an attempt to escape a wet winter. The place is timeless. Nothing has changed.
Unusual Things does exactly what it says on the tin, as is the Barras spirit. For 26 years, Unusual Things has held a residency. I spoke to the stallholder who described ‘the wild west’ of the old Barras, with its ‘tiles, butcher, meat… fake Viagra.’ Many people I spoke to described how the market has been busier recently, as people ‘really appreciated community spaces and having that human connection as opposed to big conglomerates.’ The Barras is not just a market but a community, removed from the traditional roles of buyer and seller, ‘where you’re seen as a person as opposed to just a machine’. The seller is a part of the community, and thus, the Barras is beautifully circular. I also cannot imagine anywhere else I may find a gorilla mask sold with such a welcoming smile.
George’s stall is as bright as George is. I have undoubtedly done a disservice to the beauty of George’s craft and the draw of the stall. Traditional Scottish tartan hangs with the proud glam of tulle and sequins – as is perhaps a helpful metaphor for the market itself. GTY Studio has lived at the Barras for a year and a half. George spoke of the sustainability of the Barras, whereby buyers may get something ‘really unusual,’ as ‘everything is a one-off.’ Although perhaps unintentionally, the market exemplifies a return to traditional buying and selling in the name of the environment. There is some wonderful meaning lying within the contradiction of traditional being innovation, that maybe only the Barras could create. I’m sure that GTY Studio best reflects this more connected, almost certainly brighter future.
My visit could not be complete without visiting Cakes by Rebecca, where something electric hangs in the air. When I spoke to the team, they told me they had sold out both days of their first weekend by half 12, with people queuing from half 5 in the morning on opening day. This then represents a new type of stall at the Barras, one with hype and excitement, that attracts people to the market. This is particularly poignant as it signifies how the Barras evolves and shifts, as the world around it does so too. Perhaps whilst visitors buy a cake, they may find a one-of-a-kind vinyl, or the sort of perfect gift which could only be handmade with care. I would also have to admit that the cookie I enjoyed was worth the wait in the queue.
Whilst all the vendors I spoke to were markedly different, they shared a common sense of pride. They were all friendly and willing to talk – they were excited to be there. Whether part of the brick and mortar, or a viral sensation, there is a sense of defiance and a refusal to conform. The Barras is an exciting place to be, as it’s hard to predict what its future may look like. A move towards sustainability and a move away from materialistic consumerism allows the Barras to continue blossoming. It is an enigma, both irreplicable and ubiquitous, where my grandparents took my dad and I may later take my own future children. It is community and solidarity in a way the modern High Street cannot provide. In an increasingly demanding and challenging consumerist landscape, it is easy to see why the community of the Barras may very well win out.
