Airport shops keep local names alive but not their original essence
# **Lost & Found: Portland Airport’s Nostalgic Shopfronts**
Portland International Airport (PDX) has quietly opened two new small shops near security checkpoints—each borrowing the names of beloved local businesses that have since shuttered or transformed. But while the labels evoke nostalgia, the actual offerings tell a different story.
### **Sheridan Fruit Company: A Name Without the Fruit**
The original **Sheridan Fruit Company**, a grocery store that operated for 110 years before closing in February 2023, lends its name to a new airport shop. Walk in, however, and you won’t find fresh produce or the family-run charm that once defined the store. Instead, shelves are stocked with chips, sodas, and phone accessories—convenient travel essentials, but a far cry from Sheridan’s legacy.
### **Topaz Farm: A Farm Without a Stand**
Nearby, **Topaz Farm**, named after the Sauvie Island farm that reopened under new ownership in 2020, offers another mismatch. The airport’s version is a compact kiosk with minimal space, offering none of the farm’s signature fresh berries or produce. It’s a quick stop for snacks, not a taste of the Pacific Northwest.
A Pattern of Preserved Names
This isn’t the first time PDX has repurposed a local brand. Past security, another shop carries the name of a defunct newspaper, its original identity long dissolved into history. So why keep the names alive if the businesses are gone?
The Airport’s Reasoning: Community Connection
The airport defends these nods as a way to honor Portland’s culture. Many of its small shops are locally owned, but some, like the Sheridan Fruit Company’s reincarnation, are managed by larger corporations. Paradies Lagardère, the company behind the airport’s design, had already planned the Sheridan shop before the original store closed—making the name a convenient placeholder.
Faded Echoes of the Past
Travelers breeze past these renamed shops without a second thought, unaware they’re walking through relics rather than living businesses. To those who remember the real Sheridan or Topaz Farm, the airport’s versions feel like hollow imitations—games of memory where the original magic has faded into a generic approximation.
Is it homage or erasure? The names remain, but the soul is long gone.
