What the Fluff?: A Tribute to Union Square Innovation, more casually known as The Fluff Festival, is an annual celebration of Fluff in Somerville, Massachusetts. In 1917, the confectioner Archibald Query invented Fluff — the spreadable marshmallow creme — in Union Square. He developed the recipe in his kitchen before selling it door-to-door. But the festival didn’t begin until 2005 when a non-profit dedicated to economic development and historical preservation in the neighborhood created it; now it draws about 15,000 people. The organizers ask for community input in choosing the theme from year to year and Somervillens have yet to fail. They’ve thought of “Fluff Travels” where all roads lead to Fluff, and a “Fluff the 13th” centered around all things magical and slightly superstitious. The festival features newer inventors in a part of the square called Innovation Alley, alongside the invention of Mr. Query

Each year, they highlight a few local innovators, but the main action of the festival happens on and in front of the stage. The open space in the square that occasionally transforms into a farmer’s market throughout the year, hosts the stage now. There are a range of activities to entice the crowd, such as a Fluff joust and a Fluff hair do contest. While watching the joust it is impossible to stay clean. When the jousters whack their Fluff covered pool noodles, it’s with victory in mind — not the tidiness of their audience. Once, a nicely sized dollop of Fluff hit my cheek and I could feel it slowly sliding down my face. With no napkins in sight, I scooped as much Fluff off my face as I could and ate it — a surprise treat! As contestants mold the hair or beard of their partner, a chorus of hoots and cheers fills the air. In this activity, it’s only the participants who get Fluff all over themselves. Festival attendees roam the square to the sound of live music played by local bands. In between sets, other groups take the stage; The Flufferettes, a Rockette inspired group, are a crowd favorite that put on a show every year. 

Every business in the square integrates Fluff into a temporary new menu item. While peanut butter and Fluff is the typical combination, there’s a cooking contest for original recipes. There are signs featuring these creations everywhere that change every year: Want a sip of port with a dollop of Fluff on top? Have a hankering for Fluff perogies? Care for a fluffle, a chocolate peanut butter Fluff truffle? Biting into a Fluff pierogi was a contradiction of the senses. Despite knowing that the change to the traditional recipe would make the pierogi sweet, it was a surprise when my first bite didn’t leave a savory taste behind. My friends jabbered at me, insisting on each taking a bite. As the pierogi made its round, each bite left either a wrinkle of the nose or a considering look on my friends’ faces. 

The first time I went to the Fluff Festival was the third weekend of September in my sophomore year of high school. My friends and I walked around the transformed Union Square, checking out the giant stage, the Fluff-related swag stall, and other vendors. I saw people of all ages in the surrounding crowd: toddlers running around the stalls in a game of tag, while their parents chased them with outstretched arms; groups of loud, slouching teenagers touring the festival; kids lined up in assembly lines preparing and selling Fluffernutter sandwiches. Children took part in the activities with shrieks of laughter, while parents juggled plates of food and cups of beer. My friends and I were observers; yet, it was virtually impossible to explore this festival without getting sticky. Everything you could come in contact with momentarily glued your skin to its surface. There was no leaning on railings or putting your elbows on a table without a grossed out groan. From afar a flash of a fuzzy pink sweater caught my eye. I turned just in time to see a toddler climb onto a picnic table and rub her sweater all over the Fluff covered table. Even from my distance, I could see that the table had a visible layer of Fluff: appearing sleekly  white rather than wooden. The toddler’s gurgles of laughter called the attention of her mom, who stood there frozen, staring agape at her daughter. When she approached, her daughter attempted to give her a hug, but she kept the child at bay with a palm to the forehead. The toddler looked pleased with her newly pink and white dotted sweater, while the mother seemed to be going through an accelerated version of the seven stages of grief. 

During the festival I took part in unusual, but exciting activities with my fellow Somervillens. It’s a time to let loose, and do things that you don’t normally do. When else will you have a chance to be covered in Fluff from head-to-toe?