Carmel Rallies Against Taint of Tackiness

You won’t find see-through plastic visors decorated with a drawing of the local mission here. Or hot pink sunglasses shaped like seashells. And you won’t find postcards of bikini-popping blonds crowing about Carmel’s sandy splendors.

But there’s a queasy feeling here nonetheless. A dread that Carmel may--just may--be turning tacky.

Sure, Ocean Avenue, the premier downtown strolling strip, is still dimpled with cozy little courtyards and genteel nook-and-cranny boutiques. But locals complain that the stale, canned look of a shopping mall has started to congeal over parts of downtown.

Several chain stores have moved in. And so have a few brash T-shirt shops. Some of these stores play rock music. Their employees walk around in sweats. They are very, very un-Carmel.

And they have the Old Guard here atwitter--and plotting a crackdown.

Carmel, they insist, is supposed to be about fine art and refined clothes. It’s supposed to be about one-of-a-kind boutiques where the proprietor knows your name and remembers what color cashmere sweater you bought last fall.

So why, locals ask, are there plaid boxers hanging from the window of a Big Dog Sportswear store on Ocean Avenue? (The same plaid boxers, they point out with pique, that Big Dog sells in all of its 125 stores nationwide.) Why is there a plastic mannequin swimming across the ceiling of the Speedo store? For that matter, why is there a Speedo store at all? Or a Sharper Image? Or four shops stacked to the rafters with Carmel T-shirts?

One longtime resident summed up the prevailing mood with a nod toward the offensive shops and a sour grumble: “That’s what’s killing Carmel.”

To prevent their beloved town from degenerating into a tawdry tourist trap, a citizen task force is now at work drafting two ordinances: one to sharply restrict T-shirt sales and the other to roust out chain stores. Much as other cities seek to regulate liquor stores or gun shops, the committee is considering banning T-shirt displays in store windows and phasing out cookie-cutter chain stores that set up the same display in Carmel as in any suburban mall. As one T-shirt vendor complained: “In Carmel, people treat me like I’m selling pornography.”

To outsiders, the crusade to preserve Carmel may seem unduly alarmist. Carmel still boasts at least 70 art galleries. Tourist after tourist praises the town. And the much-reviled chain stores are largely upscale; it’s hard to imagine Ann Taylor or Benetton bringing down a neighborhood. Even the T-shirts carry prices that can top $40 apiece--no flimsy beach-bum rags sold here.

“It’s not like we’re coming in with in-your-face stuff,” said Big Dog Executive Vice President Anthony Wall, who steams at the anti-chain snobbery. “It’s not even like we’re a New York brand coming to Carmel. We’re from Santa Barbara!”

Yet the anti-chainers care not a whit where the corporate headquarters is located. They’re irked by the mere fact that there is a corporate headquarters. They complain that the mom-and-pop boutiques that make Carmel special cannot compete with the big bureaucracies.

“Rents are extremely high, so only chain stores can afford to stay here any more,” said Linda Miller, who has defiantly posted a “NOT going out of business” sign in the window of her clothing boutique.

Most longtime residents do acknowledge that a couple of mass-market stores won’t kill Carmel. (A few even admit to shopping at the local Banana Republic.)

The problem, locals say, is balance.

Carmel is very big on balance. This is, after all, the town that exploded in a fierce political hoo-ha on the issue of whether Mrs. Field’s was selling the proper proportion of cookies to muffins. It’s the town that tells each store owner that only a certain percentage of merchandise can be emblazoned with “Carmel”--and then sends code enforcement officers to count the stock to ensure compliance.

So it’s serious business when locals start to feel as though the balance between between hand-painted music boxes and mass-produced bathing suits is sliding out of whack.

“When you get Crazy Shirts, Speedo and Big Dog all in one block, people get worried about it because they cater to the lowest common denominator,” explained Doug Steakley, who has lived in Carmel for 20 years. Leaning over the counter in his Concepts gallery of jewelry and art, Steakley added: “To me, it’s the kiss of death.”

That doomsday attitude sounds like a major case of denial to entrepreneurs like Anthony Lucido, a third-generation Carmel resident who operates a little T-shirt shop on Ocean.

Like it or not--and most residents do not--Carmel lives off tourists. Fully 28% of the municipal budget comes from hotel taxes. Another 30% comes from sales taxes, largely generated by visitors, according to senior city planner Richard Tooker.

Yet Carmel is so ambivalent about its tourists, it doesn’t even count them. (The best estimate is 1.5 million a year.) And Lucido says his fellow citizens make him feel as though he’s doing something dirty when he stocks his shelves with Carmel T-shirts and Carmel magnets and fuschia Carmel tank tops.

“They treat us like we’re non-desirables, selling some exotic weird product,” Lucido protested. “I don’t see how a picture of a sea otter [on a T-shirt] is going to contribute to the delinquency of a minor. . . . This is what tourists are looking for.”

But Carmel takes pride in refusing to grovel to tourists. It famously clings to its residents-first policy, even at the price of ridicule (witness the council’s determination, a few years back, to ban ice cream cones as part of a crusade against takeout food). Every so often, pro-business factions like the one led by Clint Eastwood in 1986 gain power and relax the restrictions. But the preservationists always come back, raring for a fight.

“This isn’t new madness in Carmel,” former Planning Commissioner Thomas V. Nash said. “It’s recurrent madness.”

Nash, an attorney who has lived in Carmel for 23 years, sees the current anti-chain and anti-T-shirt drive as just another cycle in the war. So do some of the business people under attack; they feel confident they’ll weather the storm just fine.

“I don’t think [the planned crackdown] is realistic,” said John Day, manager of the Sierra Shirts T-shirt store. “Carmel has become a resort area and stores like this are always going to be in areas like that. I think we’re here to stay.”

But Mayor Ken White expects the City Council to review stricter measures within the next few months. He would like the council to consider banning the display of T-shirts in store windows. He also proposes a law limiting the sale of T-shirts to clothing stores. And even in clothing stores, he wants no more than 10% of the stock to be in T-shirts or sweatshirts.

White and his supporters worry that the T-shirts and chains will drive away the types of tourists Carmel can bring itself to tolerate--the bed-and-breakfast, art-and-antique crowd--and instead attract a nightmare crew of suntan-lotion-sticky souvenir seekers pawing discount racks for a bargain.

“If you try turning Carmel into Fisherman’s Wharf, the type of visitors will drastically change,” warns boutique owner Mine Oksayan.

As for what he calls “formula stores” (chains that clone themselves in malls across the nation), White proposes “amortizing” them--in other words, letting them stay until they recoup their investment, then banishing them from Carmel. A more gentle alternative, he suggests, would be to pass a law ensuring that chain stores don’t look like chain stores: no chrome, no glitz, no oversized windows.

“To come into this community,” White said, “they should be happy to put up the kind of design we want.”

At Big Dog headquarters in Santa Barbara, President Andrew Feshbach sputters in indignation at such logic. Carmel nixed his proposed store design--themed to the local golf scene--and barred him from selling any Big Dog merchandise other than clothing, he said. His employees cannot even use a Big Dog golf bag or stuffed animal as props for a window display, he complained.

Feshbach contends that he would be able to double or triple sales--and sales tax revenue for the city--if he were allowed to arrange his store the way he wanted. His vice president, Wall, concludes bitterly: “They’re totally shooting themselves in the foot.”

But Mayor White counters that Carmel will thrive by sticking to its values. It has made its reputation in part by bucking other modern conveniences. There are no street addresses. There’s no mail delivery, either; residents pick up letters at the local post office. And the sidewalks are so old-fashioned (in other words, bumpy) that women need a city license to wear high heels. The way White figures it, if Carmel can do without addresses and paved sidewalks, it can do without chains and T-shirt shops.

“Though the generation now growing up has a shopping mall glitz mentality, when they reach a certain age, they are going to enjoy coming to a village that’s different,” White said. “I think people are always going to want to go to an unusual place that tries to keep the past in mind.”

Not so confident that Carmel can fend off invaders from the modern mall, some residents have learned to take comfort in small triumphs. After lamenting the changes in her beloved town, real estate agent Nancy Hixon took stock of her blessings: “At least we don’t have Burger Kings,” she said. “Yet.”

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A Quirky Place

Founded as an artists colony, Carmel takes pride in maintaining a picturesque, old-fashioned air. As Mayor Ken White put it: “We’re not trying to keep up with the times. We don’t want to.” As a result, Carmel is decidedly quirky. Some examples:

* ADDRESSES: Carmel has no mail delivery and no street addresses. Everyone picks up mail at the post office (which does not have an address either). Locations are identified by geography (“south of Ocean Avenue,” “between 5th and 6th”).

* MAYOR CLINT: Actor Clint Eastwood served as mayor from 1986 to 1988. He owns a commercial building in town and a share in the Hog’s Breath Inn. On the menu: Dirty Harry burger and Thunderbolt omelet.

* CRIME: The sheriff’s log for the Carmel area, printed weekly in a local newspaper, consists mainly of reports of shoplifting, petty theft and neighborhood disputes. (“The end of a garden host belonging to a resident was reportedly cut . . . An 80-year-old man reported receiving annoying messages on his answering machine . . . A property manager reported finding trash bins filled with extra yard waste.”)

* SHOPPING: In most stores, no more than 10% of the merchandise can be decorated with the word “Carmel” or other place names. A few T-shirt stores have special licenses allowing them to exceed the 10% limit.

* FOOTWEAR: Because of the unpaved sidewalks, a city ordinance outlaws high heels unless the wearer has a license.

* HOUSING: Homes are limited to 1,800 square feet, including garage.

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* The community has about 4,500 residents living on one square mile of land.

* An estimated 1.5 million tourists visit each year.

* Three-bedroom homes near downtown can cost $400,000 to $800,000.