Ode to West Asheville and 474 Haywood Rd

I’ve been thinking a lot about change–it’s the one inevitability in life and yet change can be very challenging for a Virgo so firmly grasping for groundedness and routine at all times. I’m not particularly fond of change, and yet I recognize its necessity.  Sometimes change can even be a good thing, like a brand new pair of gym shoes or meeting a new friend. But for the most part, I tend to approach change begrudgingly and it isn’t until later that I realize maybe that change wasn’t so bad after all. 

And then there’s West Asheville, which is on the precipice of experiencing A LOT of change to come. When I moved here in 2009, West Asheville was still pretty quiet, but I was immediately attracted to the small businesses scattered on and around Haywood Road. I lived on Mildred Avenue and between babysitting gigs, I’d spend my free time walking down to the library, or on occasions when I had some extra money would treat myself to a new record at Harvest. The first people I met lived in the Bledsoe Building (hey Donnie and Casey!), and when it snowed we would trek up and down the street bar hopping. The Admiral was for Saturday night dance parties, and if we could afford it, we’d do brunch at Sunnypoint the next day. When I worked as a receptionist at Blue Ribbon, you could find me at Ingles in the early mornings with a shopping cart loaded with PBR to bring to the salon and give to people who wanted a beer with their haircuts. Desoto was for Friday nights, the usual suspects gathering to play ping pong and shoot the shit about movies, books, and which bands would be coming to town.

Shortly after moving here, I caught wind of a new spot opening at 474 Haywood Rd, the Drygoods Shop, formerly known as the Meadows Dry Goods. I went to the opening party, intimidated as hell. Here was this really beautiful space with old wooden shelving, filled with bric-a-brac, beautifully handmade waxed canvas tote bags, locally made art, and a woman with a warm smile and beautiful southern drawl that reminded me of growing up in Virginia. It was cool, and inspired. The building itself was also home to musicians and artists renting cheap studio space above the Drygoods Shop. That day, I felt a desire and an inkling of hope that maybe one day I could own a shop on Haywood Road too.

It wasn’t until later on that I got to know Leigh Anne, and eventually started selling my own vintage housewares and clothing at the Drygoods Shop. One thing that always felt important about the Drygoods Shop was community–whether it was a sewing class or a pop up, there was always something fun happening there that anyone was welcome to attend. Leigh Anne made it her mission to honor the building and often shared stories about Mrs. Thomas and The Meadows Dry Goods Shop to anyone interested. This wasn’t just a building, it was a pillar to past eras of West Asheville, and any tenant of that building knew the magic of having affordable space to create.

One thing about Leigh Anne. She gives the best hugs, deeply soothing and held for just the right amount of time. A hug that feels safe, and a hug that offers comfort without you having to explain yourself. She just gets it, and these hugs tend to happen when you need them the most. In times of grief and sadness, but also in times when you need something to believe in. In 2018, I needed something to believe in. 

My life had just changed in a big, explosive way. My first marriage had ended, and with it the loss of friendships I held dear. Soon after, I would unexpectedly quit a job that I loved, but that didn’t value or love me back. I had met a new man (Hi Sethy!) who championed me, and despite all the heavy changes, I was also having a one-precious-life moment in which I was starting to take risks. Everything else had blown up, so it felt exciting to have a second chance at rebuilding my life on my own terms. West Asheville had been changing too. It felt like there was a new house popping up each day, towering over beloved 20s bungalows. The TDA had been pumping out its promotion of the neighborhood as “Walkable West Asheville!” New businesses were springing up left and right, and talk had begun of new developments with multiple stories turning the neighborhood into a Charlotte-esque hellscape. People were still recovering from the economic crash in 2008, but Asheville was experiencing yet another boost of growth and popularity, the housing market robust and ripe for the picking. Right about this time, I got a text from Leigh Anne with an offer to rent and share space with her in a more official capacity at 474 Haywood Rd, the place where Garden Party was born. It was just the kind of Leigh Anne hug I needed. 

Garden Party opened on August 30, 2018. If you were there, then you know that nothing was priced, there were people spilling out of the front and back doors, and I stood by flabbergasted that I had achieved the biggest accomplishment of my life thus far. Friends and family were there to support our venture, and new faces who would become longtime supporters showed up too. Garden Party was an actual tangible thing, proof that despite having endured an abusive marriage ending with infidelity, loss of friendship, loss of financial stability, and a shit ton of grief, that I could still come out on top, unscathed enough to create something of meaning for myself and others. I believed in myself that night. 

The things I loved about our first location are plentiful. I loved getting to see Leigh Anne and spending more time with her boys as they grew up. I loved the mural Clare painted, I loved the secret garden in the back, I loved the smell of incense mingling with the scent of an old building. I loved the sound of a sewing machine running in tandem with the music we played. I loved the feeling of having accomplished something with my love (Hi again Sethy!!). There’s so much to love about our first location, but most of all I love the building where we got started because it gave me the ability to believe again. 

Now we’re on the precipice of even more, massive change. West Asheville is already starting to split in half, the dreaded 1-26 expansion is actually, finally happening. The landscape of our beloved neighborhood is going to change, and the Meadows Drygoods Building will be going with it. So will the building that currently houses Desoto and Haywood Famous. Not to mention the countless others whose homes have been sold and bulldozed to make way for the highway expansion. I drive by the empty building where my life began again, and I am filled with grief that the NCDOT and people in positions of power didn’t understand the importance of these otherwise unassuming brick buildings enough to save them. There’s so much rich history about the building, and Garden Party was just a mere blip of a larger story about the occupants and what was made and created there.

I suppose the reason I’m writing about this at all is mostly for myself, as a marker and tribute for the way it was when we first started. As the years tick by for our business, I feel less and less certain about the path that lies ahead. Therapists talk about how change is where growth happens, but sometimes I wonder what’s at cost when we grow. It seems more and more like my own sense of self, my own sense of capacity, and my own sense of mental fortitude is what’s at cost in keeping our shop going. How much of myself am I willing to sacrifice for our business? I always thought if we could just make it to 20 years then we could be happy in our accomplishment and whatever else came would be anchored by knowing we outlasted the odds stacked against us. It’s just that the odds keep increasing and become more and more difficult to navigate–Covid, Hurricane Helene, fascism, genocide, economic recession. We’re not planning on closing, but will we be part of the 20% of businesses that make it to year 20? I’m not sure anymore, and now I’m just hoping we get to year 10.

What I do know, and what remains certain, is that I still love our neighborhood, even if the change we’re experiencing is going to be hard. I know that we love our current location SO MUCH. Garden Party is literally right across the street from Mildred Ave, where I lived for the first 7 years of my time here. I love the people that we get to work with at the shop, both staff (Hi Kierra! Hi Carl!) and vendors. I still love going to the library, getting to have a late night out every now and then at Double Crown, eating amazing food from Neng Jr.’s. I love our neighbors at Rowan, Clad, and Finest. I love seeing events put on by friends at Lamplight, a new pillar in our community. I love that friends of ours are about to open their new business, starting their own journey of entrepreneurship here in West Asheville (hi Ontos!). And maybe that’s the one constant with all this change and growth that a new highway won’t be able to take away, that there are still people living here who care deeply and have their own vision about what a community can look like. So however long we’re here, I’ll take comfort in knowing that we were here at all, even for a little blip of time making our mark in my favorite neighborhood.

P.S. Leigh Anne, if you’re reading this we are overdue for a hug!:)