When hundreds in Burlington, Vermont, lamented the imminent closure of a town cupcakery, I packed my bags to see for myself. The impetus for my research trip was My Little Cupcake, which closed in April after 11 years in downtown Burlington. When it announced the closure on Facebook, the post generated 223 comments and just under 700 likes/reactions. Based on the paper trail, I sensed this was a case study worth investigating. It looked like a microcosm of the Delicious Metropolis, my 2022 theme.
The empty shop felt somber and it was seriously chilly outdoors during my late April visit. I froze during the waterfront photo shoot, attempting to photograph my cupcakes as strong wind blew off Lake Champlain.
A French bakery is moving into the space and two of the cupcakery’s former employees bought the company. The little cupcake lives to bake another day.
Next stop: Boston.
Former Hostess factory
The Boston suburb of Somerville once housed a sprawling Hostess factory that closed in the ’70s. In the local newspaper, a columnist wrote about the factory’s heyday and interviewed townsfolk. Here are some 2013 and 2020 memories from the Somerville Times column:
“My mother would give me a quarter…yes, a whole 25 cents…and I could practically fill up my bike basket with Hostess Cupcakes, Twinkies, and Snowballs from the day-old store that was out in front of the factory on Lowell Street. I also toured the factory with my Girl Scout troop and saw how everything was made. My favorite memory was seeing how they put that white frosting squiggle on top of the chocolate cupcakes. Must’ve been early 1960’s.”
“The workers would sometimes throw us packages of cupcakes from the window,” says a source identified as JBF.
Reader Angela Gallego comments, “Loved the Hostess Factory! The smell of baked goods coming over to us on Trull Street was great! I would ride my bike up and down the loading dock until the old ladies in the thrift store would give me Twinkies and cupcakes to make me go away! Didn’t work! I would always come back again.”
The facility, located at 259 Lowell St., is now an assisted-living home. According to the Somerville Times columnist, the Hostess factory occupied a 51,500-square-foot building on the premises.
Standing in the parking lot, I tried to imagine the scents and activity of yesteryear. I brought a prop, too.
Back in Boston, I visited the cupcakery that isn’t. Johnny Cupcakes is a t-shirt company that found fame and fortune impersonating a bakery. Owner Johnny Earle was a musician and retail clerk whose friends nicknamed him Johnny Cupcakes. He produced some t-shirts visualizing the concept and sold them from the trunk of his car. When he marketed shirts with his original “cupcake & crossbones” logo, “it made strangers smile, thus I made more — poking fun at pop culture with cupcakes.”
One thing led to another and there were reportedly 500 people in line when Earle opened a store on fashionable Newbury Street in 2006. The shop is designed to look and smell like a bakery. Vintage ovens line the entryway, old refrigerators serve as display cases, and purchases are packaged in bakery boxes.
This is Earle at the shop wearing the brand’s classic logo. “Equal parts cute and badass, tough and sensitive, it causes curiosity and confusion …,” reads the in-store shelf tag. “The recipe of simplicity mixed with wonderment leaves a pleasant aftertaste!”
Every day, customers enter Johnny Cupcakes seeking baked goods. The business capitalizes on the mystique of cupcakes to sell robustly. “I prank hungry people for a living,” Earle told the media.
An in-store display communicates awareness of cupcakes’ underlying appeal. “Providing a childlike-wonderment escapism through the art of retail, I don’t sell merchandise. I sell memories.”
Here’s how it originated.
Before a transaction can occur, though, the customers have to enter the dynamic. This video shows what happens when cupcake aficionados realize there is only symbolism for sale.
Boston cupcakeries
I stationed myself outside Georgetown Cupcake to observe how Bostonians interact with the famous brand. Within moments, a passerby said to a companion, “Every time I drive by, there’s a line out the door.”
I consumed cupcakes and the pink, girly vibe of Little Miss Cupcape, a small business that originated on Cape Cod in 2014 and opened a second shop on Newbury Street.
Tasting the Hostess legacy
After eating a Hostess cupcake for the first time in decades, I did some comparative analysis involving modern interpretations. I tasted two research specimens, a Sprinkles cupcake and a slice of cake from Little Cupcake Bakeshop in New York.
Andrea Adleman | Cupcakologist 