Patchwork Portland
Portland feels like a wormhole into another dimension where time both stands still and zooms forward into an alternative existence where anything Portlanders say goes.
An intriguing cross between Amsterdam, Los Angeles, and Brooklyn, it blends artistry and quirkiness with stunning mountain backdrops and gloomy winters that shiver you into an existential hibernation—every transplant’s rite of passage that either bonds you to the bosom or spits you back out to try again elsewhere.
Stepping into any storefront along Portland’s reclaimed patchwork streets is like finding yourself in an unexpected rabbit hole with its own unique story to tell. The city’s quiet passion and raw unpretentiousness is what continually draws me in.
After eating one of the yummiest pizzas I’ve ever had—made with organic, locally-grown ingredients, of course—I asked our waiter if I could pay for the tab with Apple Pay. He said their register was a vintage piece from 1985, so unfortunately not. He then ran out to our car with the purse that my friend accidentally left on her seat.