If you happen to wander through Market Square on a sunny Saturday afternoon, it is pretty much the picture-perfect representation of a small British city, full of small local businesses and frequented by happy shoppers buying their artisan cheese or second hand books. It also serves some of the best food in Cambridge, bringing in a variety of international cuisines perfect for sampling. However, should you find yourself coming out the other side of the market, you are in a completely different world. Gail’s. T.K. Maxx. McDonalds. Wander a bit further: Popeyes. ShakeShack. Wingstop. It suddenly feels like the market exists in a bubble surrounded by the dominating presence of chains and fast food restaurants.

What about if you want something other than food? No worries, you are in luck; you can go to a Harry Potter-themed gift shop (strange considering that none of the filming ever actually took place here), one of at least three that I can think of off the top of my head that are dotted around the town centre. Or a birthday or Christmas present for your relatives? There are many Cambridge University styled souvenir shops, with mugs, coasters, scarves, calendars all emblazoned with the same designs of the various colleges or their crests. I challenge you to find the difference between the King’s College Visitor Centre and any one of the other shops which are near enough identical to one another that walking into one is almost like deja vu.

“The same tourist economy which risks ‘Disney-fying’ the city”

I’m not going to act like large businesses are a bane on humanity, and that we must reinforce the boundaries of the Cambridge bubble by eradicating them. They are, unsurprisingly, useful and convenient. Through their business models, they save costs for individuals, and increase the range of options available (just imagine trying to do your weekly shop, along with the other twenty-five thousand students, at a local corner shop). It would be short-sighted to denounce them. They also bring employment and are often a fundamental part of any British town centre.

There are so many other instances like the ones I have been describing that will probably sound very familiar, even if you have only spent a short amount of time here; the streets all start to look the same, as the businesses and their owners here are being increasingly forced to operate in the same tourist economy which risks ‘Disney-fying’ the city. A recent Varsity article notes that each year, Cambridge receives over 7.6 million visitors, who bring over two billion pounds of potential revenue to the area. As such, for local businesses, as well as colleges who, unsurprisingly, control most of the local economy, these people represent either a gold mine or a lifeline of guaranteed income. For Senior Bursars of our colleges, it makes sense; they are obliged, by the college’s charitable status, to maximise financial returns on investments. Which is going to bring in more cash? Renting to a chain, like Wingstop, with pretty-much guaranteed round-the-clock customers and established running costs, or a local start-up?

Unlike big businesses, the local places cannot bear the brunt of the ever increasing cost of living, and costs of running a business, a strain which is starting to show cracks. Earlier this month, the Cambridgeshire Chamber of Commerce published a report on the anxiety surrounding business rates, a tax charged on most commercial properties. Over a third of firms are worried about increased costs, with concern highest in the hospitality sector. Almost a quarter of businesses had said that, subsequent to these increased costs, they have planned to adjust prices due to increasing financial pressures.

“It begs the question, what does the city of Cambridge want to be, and what does it want to look like?”

Take a look at Harvey’s Cafe that closed at the end of 2024-2025 academic year. It used to run at the Harvey Court site, owned and managed by Gonville and Caius College. The cafe, attempting to stay open, launched a campaign urging students to support their business. They maintained that their main barrier to remaining open was, perhaps unsurprisingly, rent to the college. Another Cambridge institution – Gardies. Also operating in a property owned by Gonville and Caius, the famous Greek takeaway officially closed at the start of this academic year. Whilst the college emphasised in a statement that “a building survey has determined that the premises must close for around one year for extensive repairs and refurbishment,” I am concerned about its return. An institution of Cambridge since 1949, it is the latest victim of the purging of place identity that seems to be taking place in the city.

It begs the question, what does the city of Cambridge want to be, and what does it want to look like? This is a deeply divisive question, and one that has been a significant burden for the city over the last few years. Two years ago, when AstraZeneca announced the investment of two hundred million pounds into the area, pledging the creation of a thousand jobs, it was supposed to be a landmark moment for a nationalised industry; as their own CEO said, it was meant to “demonstrate our ongoing confidence in UK life sciences”. But the investment was paused, and the company moved on from Cambridge to invest fifty billion dollars into medicines manufacturing in the USA. So that didn’t work. But it also seems to be trying to promote this fantastical city, full of amazing buildings and clever students that you can take a picture of as you are drifting down the Cam, the punter shouting random, and usually false, facts at you about the Mathematical Bridge or the ugliest buildings on the river.

But that also doesn’t work; it pushes out the people who actually live here full time. Often, it feels like Cambridge students lose sight of their somewhat temporary status in the city, something I too have definitely been guilty of. I push past tourists wandering down Silver Street with my college puffer on, muttering how annoying they are under my breath, despite the fact I moved here only just over three years ago, on my way to get a haircut at Mr. Politos, a favourite of Queens’ students. Chatting to my barber, everything suddenly becomes contextualised. His parents moved here from Pakistan years ago, and have since set up a restaurant on Mill Road, which he also works in. He complains about the increasing costs of living, how the area has changed since he, a local born here, was young. And suddenly, I realise that Cambridge needs to be about these types of places, and that students need to support those who are actually part of the town’s vibrant identity.