Nothing takes me back to virginal tweendom than wandering around our local fair. Formally known as the Island County Fair, the Whidbey Island Fair used to take place the weekend before Labor Day at the end of August. It was hot, dusty, and we were all salivating for some jewel-toned shaved ice.

At thirteen years old, I was beginning to dip my toe into dance more with the local dance studio, which led me to partake in a musical theater review produced by Whidbey Children’s Theater. The production took place in the historic Pole Building at the fairgrounds, which was partially set up with folding chairs amid a gallery of art entries awaiting review by the fair’s judges. Throughout the day, this awkward group of teenagers would entertain the audience… or just make fools of ourselves as we giggled between musical numbers.

I remember we were all going through various stages of puberty. We had to wear these horrible flared dresses that would only look flattering if you were tall (but not too tall) and proportionately fortunate. The boys had to wear dress shirts, slacks, and a bow tie, and had all the same problems with ill-fitting clothes. But dance and sing we did… all the girls pining after the solo singing roles, while I tried to keep up with dance routines, my glasses persistently sliding down my sweaty face.

During our set breaks, we got to change and enjoy the fair. We were always warned by our vocal coach to avoid all the fried foods and frozen dairy treats that are ubiquitous choices among fair concessions. None of us listened, of course. I would go out with my pals to ride all the rides, play carnival games, and grab some funnel cake to warm up for our next show.

While the echoes of childhood memories still lingered in the back of my mind, here I am at the fairgrounds of today, a 36-year-old adult, observing the nostalgic, small-town family affair. This year, the Whidbey Island Fair is celebrating its 100th year in operation, bringing together a mixture of tourists and locals alike. Going to the fair this year was an afterthought, as I had intended to be far away on the Olympic Peninsula camping this weekend. As plans fell through, I thought what a perfect time to reminisce and see how this adorable country fair has evolved through the years.

I mostly went to people-watch and be in the company of new friends we’ve made on the island. It was a whole different experience. The smells of fried food of various cuisines hit you right upon entrance. The lady at the ticket booth left us with a comical notion as we parted ways:

“Make sure you eat before going on the rides!”

Eat we did, ride we did not. Instead, we made multiple laps to see all the variety shows, such as the machismo logger show, dog tricks in the Pole Building, and a hypnotist outside on the main stage. We’d timed our visit for Sunday afternoon, the least crowded day of the fair, to avoid sensory overload. My social battery isn’t what it used to be. My husband, who grew up attending the Washington State Fair in Puyallup as a teen, had never experienced one of Whidbey Island Fair’s iconic indulgences: a massive boat of greasy curly fries.

We shoveled stringy fries into our mouths as we people-watched from the bleachers, escaping the sweltering rays. The usual food booths were to be expected: ice cream bars that you could purchase either from the Island’s Democrat or Republican coalitions, burgers that supported a local youth group, and tons of local purveyors all wanting a piece of the fair-goer’s dollar.

Once, the fair meant sticky fingers from cotton candy and dizzying spins on rides that felt endless. Now, it’s a slower kind of magic—lingering by the 4‑H barns, slipping into pockets of shade, and parting ways with friends with the unspoken certainty that we’ll find each other again at the beer garden. The closing act on the main stage was the main reason our friend group reconvened. Paperback Writer, a Beatles tribute band, closed out the Whidbey Island Fair on Sunday night. As the sun became less intense, we all sequestered into the beer garden to enjoy an adult ice beverage. The Fab Four even came dressed in the early ’60s garb of matching suits and mop tops. As they played through various hits, they even changed into colorful Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band regalia – complete with the facial hair!

The fairgrounds feel different now, yet somehow unchanged—like all those cinematic show tunes I learned back in 2003 for the WCT’s song and dance review. Back then, the fair was a blur of neon lights, sugar highs, and the elation of island childhood. Today, it’s busy… lots of people, though somehow still slow, as island life usually is. It’s a place to savor small moments: the smell of fresh-cut hay, the hum of conversation, the wails of a child’s meltdown in the distance. In both places of life, the Whidbey Island Fair remains what it has always been—a place where Americana themes and carnival tricks reign supreme and where we unite no matter what our differences are.