Can Adelaide find a stronger sense of identity as a city, asks Timothea Moylan, who ponders why finding it matters.

If you’ve ever travelled – near or far – you’ll know the feeling that comes with experiencing strong place identity.

I felt it last year as the sun set on a leafy corner of Torino – locals swarming out into the heavy summer air, chatter reverberating around the cobblestoned piazza. I felt it in the dry backyards and the weekend markets of Alice Springs, with its clash of cultures, its grassroots activism and its no-frills transience. I felt it in every single suburb I visited in San Francisco. I even felt it in a crumbling Welsh port town – its river filled with rusting shopping trollies and its streets with chain-smoking preteens and a purgatorial McDonald’s that no one seemed to be able to either enter nor exit.

And every time I feel it, it’s accompanied by a pang of envy.

Because deep down in the pit of my homesick stomach, I worry that the certifiably liveable streets of Adelaide don’t inspire the same sentiment.

Our “Festival State” moniker rings true for a handful of weeks peppered throughout the year. The wine regions showcased in glossy tourism campaigns feel far from daily reality. We’re UNESCO’s Australian City of Music: a bold yet nebulous designation, given that Melbourne plays host to the most live music venues per capita in the world (according to Dr Sam Whiting’s “Small Venues: Precarity, Vibrancy and Live Music”).

Our parklands are lovely, the Central Markets are colourful, and even as a failed Catholic I can acknowledge that the churches are… well, nice. But are these meaningful, tangible pieces of the identity puzzle?

A friend of mine recently referred to Adelaide as “a pre-pubescent boy: starting to mature, but it’s got a long way to go”. This idea of our city as an inoffensive pre-teen gulping down Cheezels as he gets Chat GPT to write his homework? Sure – it’s not trollies in the river, but I’m confident it’s not what we’re aiming for.

In a recent survey conducted by us at Renew Adelaide, 59 per cent of people said they felt Adelaide has a strong sense of identity. However, when prompted, only a third of these same respondents articulated what this identity actually looked like. Less than a third offered thoughts on what they wanted this identity to be.

Drilling down into these perceptions reveals a tension.

We’re a city that feels safe and connected for some, but dull and cliquey for others. While many respondents found our arts community to be the nurturing, beating heart of all that’s good, others noted that they felt this community is only supportive of those deemed “acceptable” (read: cool). It paints a picture that looks worryingly like a school cafeteria in a teen movie.

But it also reflects a place that’s on the cusp of something truly brilliant.

A resilient, offbeat flavour of creativity that’s simmering away, ready to bubble up through the city’s conservative skin. An earnest, no-nonsense and unpretentious approach to producing top-notch food and wine – as much on the main street of Kilburn as in the rolling valleys of the Barossa. The thriving business community that’s sprung up around the thoughtfully manufactured micro-precinct of Plant 4, as much as it has around the more grassroots, organic coastal hub of Aldinga.

Throughout the 1990s and 2000s, Portland, Oregon cemented its status on the world stage as America’s antidote to the glitz of Manhattan, the bright lights of Los Angeles, and the future MAGA cap-wearing Bible Belt.

With a population of just 635,000, the city actively forged a global identity built on its thriving music scene, quality street food, staunch pride in small business, and a leading approach to sustainable living. Years later, it’s still the septum-ringed, stick-and-poked, fixie bike-riding poster child for an alternative America – equal parts revered and the subject of skits and memes (“Put A Bird On It!” still brings me to tears, IYKYK).

I’m not suggesting that Adelaide adopts the “Keep <insert name of city> Weird” adage that plagued the lexicon of the hipster era. Not quite. But the ethos behind it is solid – an ability to look inward, laugh at oneself and turn both the fortes and the flaws into unique assets.

But I believe it all starts with elevating the voices within Adelaide’s arts and cultural communities.

Give them the microphone and turn it all the way up. Give them the financial security to make art for art’s sake. Give them physical space to transform our streets into places that we want to be and stay. Give people a reason to leave the comfort of their houses, so they might feel better connected to the city they call home.

Government too has an integral role in allowing city life to flourish through good planning. Responsibility is so often misplaced on our institutions to manufacture, when their ability to facilitate is infinitely more valuable. It’s about unlocking the door and holding it wide open.

When I think about the cities I’ve visited that have a positive identity, it nearly always comes back to one of two things: a sense that I belong, or that I want to belong.

It’s elicited by a cocktail of culture, built environment and most importantly, community. It’s the colour and sound on the streets, the value placed on cultural vibrancy as much as economic impact, and the way people interact with each other and with the public realm.

If embracing personal identity promotes growth and a sense of belonging, is that not true of a city, too?

If we were to solidify Adelaide’s own identity, maybe we’d behave less like Melbourne’s self-deprecating little sibling. Perhaps we’d have the confidence to take risks and make more space for the unorthodox.

A piazza or two would help. Let’s keep the shopping trolleys out of the river. And one day, that big country town energy might feel more like community.

Timothea Moylan is the Head of Partnerships & Operations at Renew Adelaide.