About Flânerie

The Story

Growing up, I didn’t have much.

During summer break, I’d collect pop cans, trade them in, and use the fifty cents each way to ride the bus to somewhere—anywhere—I’d never been. Whatever money I had left, I’d see what small thing it could get me: a used book, a cheap toy, something to bring home as a little souvenir from the adventure that day.

That wandering stayed with me. Even as an adult, I’d take the long or different way home just to see what I might stumble into: coffee shops with mismatched furniture, bookstores with cats sleeping on the counter, taquerías with menus fully in Spanish and salsa that could wake the dead.

But something's changed.

Neighborhoods—real, walkable, lived-in neighborhoods—are fading. Downtowns feel hollow. The small lights that used to glow on every block are going dark. I miss the feeling of stumbling onto life—porch conversations drifting through summer air, kids playing in the street, the hum of a city that felt alive on foot.

Why This Exists

This is a one-person project for real neighborhoods—not corporations. There’s no marketing team, no developers, no glossy launch. Just me, trying to come up with something to keep the places we love from fading away.

Every time you skip the chain and choose a local coffee shop, you’re voting. Every time you walk instead of drive, you’re paying attention. Every time you wander down a new block, you’re proving your neighborhood still has life in it.

Flânerie is my attempt to answer a simple question: How do we get people to care about their neighborhoods again?

I’m not a marketing guy, and I’m definitely not a developer. Honestly, this whole thing might look a little broken at times—as I panic-search the web on how to fix it—but that’s kind of the point. It’s handmade. It’s local. It’s alive.

Here’s what we do:

We point out the good stuff before it’s gone.
We make exploring easy, even if you’ve lived here your whole life.
We celebrate the walkers, the wanderers—the flâneurs—who still show up for local spots.
We remind each other that neighborhoods don’t fade on their own—they fade when we stop showing up.

And we can bring them back, one walk at a time.