A glimpse into the life of a noted political activist, comedian and candy store owner
Adam Stothard (he/him) // Co-Editor-In-Chief
Rachel Lu (she/her) // Crew Illustrator
Ryan Coomer (he/him) // Illustrator
Mary Jean Dunsdon, known by many as “Watermelon,” has had quite the life so far. Her nickname comes from her days as a vendor on Wreck Beach—a nude beach—where she sold watermelon slices and cannabis cookies to many satisfied naked customers. Her story took a turn when she was thrust into the political spotlight for being arrested on various marijuana-related charges in 2001, setting off a domino effect which eventually led her to run for Vancouver city council in 2017. Her campaign was highly publicized, leading to profiles in publications such as Vice and The Georgia Straight. While she wasn’t elected to council, she’s nonetheless a fixture in Vancouver as someone who appears at events, does stand-up comedy and owns the Licorice Parlour, a vibrant candy store with locations on Commercial Drive and Granville Island.
“This was all a happy accident, owning this Licorice Parlour,” says Dunsdon, explaining that the store used to be called Dutch Girl Chocolates. “[The previous owner] mostly sold licorice, and I didn’t really get that because it was a chocolate shop. But, chocolate’s really seasonal, so I just called it the Licorice Parlour,” she clarifies.
The Licorice Parlour entered its 13th year in business on October 13, and over time it’s become a mainstay within the community. It retains a homely, inviting quality that larger candy stores fail to provide. She explains, “The neighborhood loves their candy store. So, it felt like it kind of went out of my possession and became something else. Do you know what I mean? It’s a little hub.”
When first entering the Licorice Parlour on Commercial Drive, patrons are greeted with pastel colours, nostalgia and an all-encompassing warmth. The walls are enticingly lined with mason jars full of different licorice, chocolates and gummies. A bluetooth speaker plays calming, intimate alt-folk music, for example, Iron & Wine’s cover of the Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights.” Decorating the entrance are viewfinders, pogo sticks, double-dutch skipropes and other memorabilia from the analog era of Dunsdon’s upbringing. This is by design, not just as a way to showcase her own beloved collectibles, but as a way to spread joy among the parents of children that come in. “Children don’t have memories; children are making memories. So, the parent gets the joy,” she remarks.
Before she ran the Licorice Parlour, Dunsdon fought for marijuana legalization like her life depended on it; possibly because it did. “I had three provincial trials and three provincial acquittals. Like, it took a hat trick. But, that could have ruined my whole life. That would have made me a criminal. Look at me. I’m, like, the biggest criminal,” she says sarcastically, not five minutes after brightening the days of excited schoolchildren looking to buy candy.
One of the unique markers of the Licorice Parlour is Dunsdon’s rejection of anything highly processed or synthetic.The Licorice Parlour may serve many different candies, but the selection is carefully crafted. Patrons won’t find any factory-manufactured, corn syrup-based or artificially-dyed candies at the Licorice Parlour. The flavours of the candy taste natural and vibrant, not at all the blandly sweet, chemical-like flavour of candy made by massive companies. Even the licorice–—a treat many people assume they don’t like—is delicious. “European licorice is a superior product. So, a lot of people think they don’t like licorice because they’ve only ever had North American licorice,” Dunsdon explains, “Once you have good licorice, I find that usually maybe one in five people who say they don’t like licorice actually don’t like licorice.”
While she may have been a candidate for change in the past, Dunsdon says her days of running for office are over. She further explains her change of heart by saying, “I’m really somebody who wants to maximize my happiness. Like, I’m a stand-up comic. I worked on a nude beach. I own a candy store. Being a city councillor would have brought my joy factor down. And, that would have been okay,” she reflects, “I would happily lose a little joy to try to fix some things for my fellow citizens. But, I don’t think I could.”
Dunsdon’s love for her community is palpable, and extends from running the Licorice Parlour into inevitable criticisms of local government. As a small business owner in Vancouver with a storied history of politically involved activism and advocacy, her perspective is one of note. One of her qualms nowadays is the falsehoods presented to the public about recycling. “They have this whole insulting recycling system. But then, they don’t actually recycle half of it. It goes to the incinerator,” she says, alluding to the many anti-plastic advocates who have pointed out that the notion of plastic recycling is simple greenwashing designed to pacify the environmentally concerned public.
As a comedian, Dunsdon has opened for heavy hitters in the comedy world, such as Sarah Silverman, Zach Galifianakis, Tig Notaro, Scott Thompson and Janeane Garofalo. On top of this, she has emceed many events, including the Cannabis Cup, a mass gathering of marijuana enthusiasts from around the world in Amsterdam who rank and judge different cannabis strains.
As a nudist, Dunsdon spent many of her formative years at Wreck Beach in Vancouver. For those who have never been to Wreck, Dunsdon offers a completed, nuanced view on the nudist lifestyle. She explains that in truth, the mantra of nudism has nothing to do with sex or with how you look; it’s all about the acceptance of yourself and your own body. “Wreck Beach is really about radical body acceptance,” Dunsdon offers her perspective, going on to say, “You’re there to accept your own body. You’re not there to accept other bodies.”
As per Dunsdon’s explanation, nudism is a way to get outside of your own head and learn to embody yourself. “Anybody can be [a nudist],” she says, “Any race, any religion. The only thing you can’t be is with your clothes on.” The popularity of nude beaches has gone down significantly since its heyday, and Dunsdon offers a reasonably simple explanation. “Camera phones really ruined it,” she says, “Back in the day, you were not allowed a phone or a picture. And, if you did take a picture, it was under express consent and you had to give them that photo.” Dunsdon shows a photograph of a Wreck Beach nudist gathering from back in the day, saying, “This is 1993. This is when I showed up.” She points out that there was “lots of bush, which doesn’t happen anymore.” She asks, “Bush is out, right?”
The image portrayed a crowd of people, entirely naked, all smiling, happy and accepting. There was a profound wholesomeness to the image, entirely divorced from sexuality and rooted in joy. “I love that there, because it’s a whole bunch of naked people not acting sexy,” she offers, “When you remove all those clothes, you remove all the stigmas, you remove all the social hierarchies, you remove all those things, right? So, that’s something really wonderful at the beach. You don’t know how rich or poor somebody is, right? Everyone’s just themselves.”
As a person, Dunsdon is similar in personality to the candies she sells in her store; although some aspects may be an acquired taste, there’s an undeniable vibrancy to her. It’s possible that nudism, marijuana and licorice aren’t for everyone, but—for those that give it a chance—one may find themselves uplifted in a way they hadn’t previously considered possible. If you have the opportunity, or if you find yourself in the neighbourhood, visit the Licorice Parlour on Commercial Drive or Granville Island to try some candy that certainly won’t disappoint.