How to be a Sebastopolian

Growing up in the slums of Sebastopol, California, survival meant growing up quickly. By age 6 I could make a straw doll with 4 different types of natural fibers. By 9 I could tell the difference between an organic and non-organic avocado by touch alone. By 13 I was slinging my own kombucha. No one knows Sebastopol like I do. For travelers anxious about their first-time visit, worry not; I can tell you exactly how to seem as local as they come.

The first step is to blend in with its appearance, and there are generally two main aesthetics you can adhere to: upper-middle-class Caucasian 50-year-olds and their high school–aged kids. There are a few exceptions to this rule, but it’s generally a statistically insignificant group of outliers. I recommend taking the form of the upper-middle-class Caucasian 50-year-old, as everything needed for this look can be found in town. If you insist on blending in with the high schoolers, go on Temu and order any pair of jeans whose leg hole openings have a circumference larger than or equal to the diameter of your inseam. Otherwise, go into any clothing store with the words “silk,” “moon,” or “honey” in its name. (These stores make up approximately two-thirds of the town; any one should do, as they all carry more or less the same products.) Once inside, look for a shockingly expensive pair of sandals made out of a supposedly recycled material. They claim to have a lifetime warranty, but six months later, when they break and you look up the name of the company, Google will show zero results of a sandal company of that name ever existing. When you go back to the store to inquire, it will have been inexplicably replaced by a new business containing “silk,” “moon,” or “honey” in the name, with virtually the same inventory and a worker who you strongly suspect was the same person who sold you the sandals six months ago. Don’t stress about it too much; it’s part of the process. For a top, any floral-patterned bamboo-fiber button-up short sleeve from the Indonesian company “SukkhaCitta” will do fine. These items will pair nicely with a lightly stained pair of cargo shorts from the local Goodwill.

Of course, dress is only half the battle. You are going to want to make a few changes to your vehicle of choice before braving the rougher parts of the Sebastopolian suburbs. I recommend a Prius, Honda Element, or Kia Soul. Though Teslas were a stylish choice a few years back, I would strongly recommend having at least one “bought this before Elon went crazy” on every visible side of the car. In addition, add one sunbleached “Hillary 2016” bumper sticker, two bumper stickers with vaguely positive messages such as “you can’t spell earth without ART,” a miniature Banksy decal, and one eyebrow-raising curveball like “nature is our vaccine.”

For personal beliefs, most things go, but I can give pieces of advice that will make you a hit at any potluck. Be Marxist up until the point that it would affect your personal comfort or your home’s monetary value. Sagely nod during the land acknowledgment before Rialto Cinemas’ showing of Wuthering Heights. Worry about Porchfest bringing in city folk from Santa Rosa who will break into houses and ransack them during the commotion of 60-year-olds playing harmonica. Get a reusable metal straw. Whisper about how the homeless—no, the unhoused—need to be “relocated.” Start a drum circle. Invest three hundred thousand dollars into Lockheed Martin. Get a smoothie. Join a local cause. Just remember, never believe in anything too hard. It’s bad for your skin.