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Iridescent Daydream is not only the rainbow, but the pot of gold at the end of it.
A stone’s throw from the intersection of Northeast Sandy Boulevard and 52nd Avenue in the Hollywood District, Iridescent Daydream is part retail store, part LGBTQ+ artist collective, offering works in a multitude of mediums by nearly 100 local queer crafters. Dreamed up in 2021 as the love child of five artists who frequented the makers market scene, ID moved into a brick-and-mortar by 2023. Since then, customers have been able to shop for stickers, upcycled clothing, TikTok-trending painted-over paintings on consignment, prints, zines, pyrography and more.
“It’s the ultimate gift store,” founding board member Jessie Martinez says. “You really can find just about anything for any aesthetic.”
With Pride season, as well as a seemingly palpable collective desire to stick it to the “man (here’s looking at you, Bezos)” reverberating throughout Portland, Iridescent Daydream presents itself as what the people need—the opposite of a capitalistic enterprise.
“It is very much a not-for-profit model,” Martinez says. “We are not officially a nonprofit—we are still working on that. We’ve always operated on the idea that pretty much the only money that is needed for the operation is rent and security. We want to keep the space belonging to everyone in the collective as much as we can.” Volunteer shopkeepers and board members showcase an alternative to corporate stores—a safe space for queer artists, by queer artists.
ID prides itself on inclusivity, offering collective memberships (monthly vending spots) open to queer artists of any professional experience or socioeconomic standing. Sliding-scale fees are available to “struggling artists” in the form of mutual aid or temporary waivers of monthly fees. “For a lot of our members, it is the first time they’ve ever sold anywhere, so we want to be that introductory place for people,” Martinez says. “We want to be open, answer questions for people, and offer a low rate—it’s been awesome to offer that to people who might not have had the opportunity otherwise.”
Artists may rent a space within ID for a monthly fee ranging from $5 (sticker display) to $25 per square foot. Martinez also notes ID aims to offer lower vending rates to BIPOC and disabled members. Creatives are encouraged to arrange expositions as they please. “It’s turned into this beautiful representation of how different all of us are as queer people, but there is still that common thread of handmade with love, queerness, and otherness that keeps us all together,” Martinez says.
Jax Harihara, ID’s founding visionary, began organizing queer-centric makers markets in 2021. By 2022, the dream of providing a haven for their markets materialized. “Over time, a couple of us got together and decided to work to open a storefront that would be like a year-round marketplace for our artists,” Martinez explains.
Vending at markets is often more labor intensive than some artists can or want to withstand on a regular basis. The setup and teardown, on top of juggling multiple markets, is easier said than done. ID offers a reprieve from market burnout. “We still offer events and markets for our collective members, noncollective members, and other queer people in the city who want to come hang out with us and see what we’re all about,” Martinez says.
More than a store, ID aims to move toward providing a communal space to members of the collective as well as nonmembers. Free weekly and monthly events like Bitch and Stitch (5–9 pm last Wednesdays) and Community Craft Lounge (noon–6 pm Thursdays and Sundays) offer a proverbial watering hole for anyone looking to craft or build community.
“We’ve been working really hard this year to turn it more into a community space so that it’s not just about the retail aspect; we’re trying to make it a place where people can gather, have meetings, and offer skill shares,” Martinez says, noting there’s a back room for events. “Come back there and grab some free supplies—bring a friend! We’ve got a mini fridge, a little microwave, and a couch back there if you need a place to hang out or meet up with some friends and do some crafts,”
The conceptualization of ID is as magical as a rainbow. It is real, but rare. “Especially right now, it’s been hard to be out and proud as a queer person; we want to remind people that that community is still here,” Martinez says. “We’re welcoming new people with open arms. Even if you’re not an artist. If you want to come in and make friends, we’ve got opportunities.”
GO: Iridescent Dream, 5258 NE Sandy Blvd., iridescent-daydream.square.site. Noon–6 pm Thursday–Sunday.
