No Purchase Necessary

(Source: Paul Rysz/Unsplash.)

October is a magical time of year in Waco, Texas. The scorching summer heat gives way to cooler air, free of humidity. The sky turns a deep shade of blue and the gentle winds, combined with golden lighting, puts an extra pep in your step. On weekends, bright-eyed college students and families come pouring into the farmer’s market, the fair, coffee shops, and football stadiums. Small talk inevitably turns into a praise fest for the cooler weather. Technically, it’s still too warm for sweaters and scarves, but we’re all too grateful to complain. Some of us (me!) wear scarves, anyway. 

This being my first fall as a mom, my days are a bit different than normal. I spend most of them at home tending to our baby boy. Gratefully, we have a lovely back patio where we live and a few times a day I rock him outdoors, watching squirrels collect acorns and leaves falling gently into the pool. Not normally a homebody, I have been surprised at how content I am to be at home for now. But occasionally, I find myself a little bit restless, wanting to be out, but not wanting to be anywhere in particular. 

Out in my mind was not so much a specific place as it was an environment. I wanted to be in a space that felt like our famer’s market on the weekends. I used to work at the farmer’s market and it was magical to watch a massive downtown parking lot get transformed into a social space where visitors could enjoy the beautiful outdoors and the presence of other people.  

Some visitors walked pointedly to their usual booths, on a mission to get their latest bundle of seasonal vegetables or a quart of bone broth. Others were content to wander around leisurely, perusing booths but not looking to buy anything in particular; some came just to showcase their dogs or to take selfies, cups of iced coffee in hand. I don’t work there now, but when I visit, I come for the street tacos at Muchos Tacos or for peaches in the summer. 

But many times, I go just to wander. Sometimes I talk to vendors I recognize and catch up on small talk or stop to listen to the live music. This freedom to enjoy the market without having to buy something reminds me of the kinds of relaxed urban spaces I’ve seen in other cities, spaces like DUMBO in Brooklyn, the Highline and Bryant Park in Manhattan, the Pearl District in San Antonio, and the Riverwalk in Providence, Rhode Island. These spaces attract all kinds of people and facilitate all kinds of activities. They’re organic, uncoordinated, and leisurely. They function like an extension of our own living rooms or backyards. Their value comes from providing a space where strangers can happily be alongside other strangers doing something they enjoy. 

People at Bryant Park in Manhattan. (Source: Flickr/Diane Jones.)

I’m no scientist, so I don’t know why humans seek out the presence of other people, even ones they don’t know. But I know there’s something magnetic about spaces where strangers can be alone together, and in our increasingly fragmented and polarized society, this is valuable. Sadly, these kinds of public third spaces are increasingly rare. The reasons come as no surprise: auto-oriented design, lack of supportive density, not enough people out and about on foot. But also because, in our growth-oriented culture where the transaction rules as the ultimate sign of success, it can be tough for some cities to defend projects that don’t immediately show a “return on investment.” How do you know a plaza or town square is “working” unless you can show that success with dollar signs? 

But these “free range” spaces matter. They can serve as the backbone for a neighborhood’s sense of community. They can inspire creativity, make it easier for neighbors to meet each other, and curb loneliness. So, cities can still make the choice to invest in these kinds of spaces. Here are three ingredients that make them work.  

1. Beautiful, Safe, and Closed to Cars

Placemaking was essential to all of the public spaces I listed. It takes intentional design to make these spaces attractive. But this doesn’t mean they have to be expensive. A few tables, chairs, and string lights can go a long way. In addition to being beautiful, these spaces, perhaps most essentially, were car free. It’s simply not possible to have a relaxing third space for people that also accommodates car traffic. Given how deeply the values and priorities of the drivers and pedestrians contradict each other, trying to accommodate both users is awkward at best, deadly at worst. 

2. Clearly Defined and Slightly Enclosed

There’s a fountain in downtown Waco right by city hall that, in theory, is supposed to function like a third space but I have rarely ever seen people there. There are various reasons for this: it’s not fully shut off to cars, so visitors on foot, bike, or scooter have to negotiate with drivers. There’s also not enough downtown density to keep it full of people. It’s surrounded by parking lots instead of businesses and it ends in a dead-end kind of arrangement with city hall. But it also fails to attract people because it’s not enclosed enough. 

People need a certain amount of enclosure to feel safe in open spaces like squares and plazas. With various entry points from the parking lots and nearby streets, this attempt at public space feels unpredictable and open. This openness makes it hard to know how to inhabit the space at all; there’s not a clear sense of purpose. Sure, there are features like a fountain, a few benches, and covered walkways, but the openness works against those features.  

3. Adjacent to Businesses but Not Transaction-Focused

Having spaces that don’t require purchases to enjoy them is essential for attracting a wide variety of people and interesting activities, which is what gives these places their sense of intrigue. But this doesn’t mean that they should be arranged entirely separately from local businesses. In fact, these spaces excel when the two work together. When public parks, squares, and plazas are situated close to practical businesses, it creates a beneficial cycle for them both: public spaces provide places to be while businesses provide options of things to do, both increasing foot traffic, overall vitality, and safety.

Cities need “free range” third spaces that are beautiful and invitational, that are safe and homey, that don’t revolve around purchases and consumption. People need places where they can exist as people, not as customers. These are the kinds of spaces that bring strangers together in a way that can boost trust and that make a city feel like home. They also make it possible for many more kinds of people to enjoy the benefits of the city. Some of my fondest memories of living in New York City were those that involved having very little money but still being able to go dancing on Chelsea pier, watch a free movie in Bryant Park, or take a long walk on the Highline. What if all of these required purchasing an admissions ticket or a fancy beverage first?

Rethinking our patterns of design is an opportunity to recover a more vibrant vision of what it means to be human in the world, something we can approximate by thinking about the activities that give meaning to life. If that’s sitting in a chapel, dancing by the river, or chasing our children around a public fountain. What would our cities look like if we designed for all of life, not just a few activities that we can count on for tax revenue?

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