Franklin Street Might Actually Get Fixed

And not in a “someday, maybe” vision-board kind of way.

Franklin Street doesn’t feel like Portland. It feels like something dropped here by mistake, wide, fast, empty. It splits the east end and the old port in two without connecting anything. You don’t walk it unless you have to. You definitely don’t linger.

If it feels out of place. That’s because it is.

In the 1960s, Portland bulldozed nearly a hundred buildings, homes, bakeries, shops, row houses to ram a high-speed road from the highway to the hill. It cut through our little Italy neighborhood. It erased entire blocks. And then it just… stayed that way. For sixty years.

Now, finally, something’s shifting. Portland just landed $2 million in federal funding to design a real fix. Not another dusty plan. Real engineering. Real community input. A real shot at stitching the city back together.

The reimagined Franklin would be narrower. Slower. Actually walkable. Picture safer crossings, real bike lanes, sidewalks people use. Maybe even a roundabout at Commercial Street. The oversized median? Gone. In its place, housing, trees, and neighbors.

They say the project could free up six acres of buildable space. That’s room for over 1,000 new homes. Storefronts. Parks. A city that feels whole again.

Sure, it’ll take time. Construction probably won’t start until 2026. But this is how change happens: with funding, public will, and long-overdue momentum.

It’s one of the biggest healing projects Portland has in front of it.

And it’s about time.

Are you a developer? Let’s talk.
If you’re working on or even just thinking about the future of Franklin Street, I’d love to connect. This corridor is about to change, and I want to hear from the people shaping what comes next. Reach out, I’m always up for a conversation.

Read the Full Franklin Project Overview

Ickybeads: How a Daisy Chain Turned Into a Friendship

Handmade Vintage Necklaces by Ingrid, Found Only in Portland, Maine

Most days, I make my rounds across the peninsula, Onggi, Strata, Material Objects, Viand Mercantile. It’s part errand, part ritual. One afternoon, I stopped into Viand and got to chatting with a new woman working there who I hadn’t met before. Blonde, warm, quietly magnetic. That was Ingrid.

We got talking. Then we kept talking. Week after week. She was kind and thoughtful, with a way of making you feel like you belonged right where you were. A few weeks later, after really getting to know her, she gave me a necklace she made. Just a gift. No big deal.

It was a daisy chain. An ickybead.

This one is mine ❤

The name comes from her niece, who couldn’t pronounce “Ingrid” and just called her “Icky.” It stuck, and somehow, it fits. Playful. Personal. A little weird, a lot wonderful.

The first time I put it on, I felt a little brighter. I noticed how the beads caught the light. I noticed how good it felt to wear something that didn’t just look good, but felt like it carried a memory. Like it had a story to tell. And every time I wear it now, I still feel that little spark. That weird, hard-to-name thing. Joy, maybe. Or nostalgia.

Ingrid doesn’t call herself an artist, which is exactly what makes her one. She’s not chasing trends or turning out product. She’s just making what she loves, one-of-a-kind necklaces strung from vintage beads that most people wouldn’t even know how to find. Glass that hasn’t been manufactured in decades. Vintage Swarovski. Enamel charms. Deadstock bits with history baked in. She’s got an eye for it. A gut. She’ll wake up at 3 a.m. thinking about color combinations. Lay out a couple inches. Rearrange. Sit with it. Trust the feeling. That’s her whole process. And that’s the magic.

The necklaces look like jewelry, toys, memories, and relics all at once. But they’re not just cute. They’ve got weight. Ingrid still owns the first daisy chain she ever made with her sister. She’s never stopped holding onto the things that matter. It shows.

She only started making them again when she moved to Portland. “It was therapy,” she told me. “A way to ground myself.” And even though she’s got pieces stocked at The Post Supply and Fore & Wharf, this is still a small, soulful operation. Just her, a table FULL of beads, and whatever her gut tells her to make next.

That daisy chain she gave me lives on my neck. I wear it when I want to feel grounded. Or playful. Or seen. That’s what her pieces do. They speak before you do.

Come Meet Ingrid

She’s popping up this Friday, August 1st from 5 to 8 PM at Orange Bike Brewing, and I’ll be there supporting her, so you should too. Grab a beer, say hi, and maybe leave with a necklace that makes you feel something.

Where to Get an Ickybead

Follow @ickybeads on Instagram
In-person: The Post Supply (Washington Ave) and Fore & Wharf (Fore Street)

Portland is full of creative people. But every now and then, someone comes along who doesn’t just make cool stuff. They are cool stuff. That’s Ingrid. That’s ickybeads.

And if you’re lucky enough to wear one, you’ll feel it too

Link To the Event