TEHRAN – On the sidewalks of the Iranian capital, from south to north and east to west, street vendors have become a common sight.
But along Enghelab and Karim Khan streets, teenage girls and young women stand out among the vendors, selling not imported goods but their own handmade artistic creations.
Unlike many other vendors, these young women take pride in their independence and creativity, choosing their own style of dress while building small businesses from their artistic talents.
Sixteen-year-old Zahra brings her handcrafted items to Enghelab Street daily after school. She creates bracelets, necklaces, wooden hairpins, small wooden sculptures, and rings at home, selling them to help cover her educational expenses.
“It might seem strange to you that I’m out here at this age,” she tells IranWire. “But if I want to continue my education – and these days, studying is expensive – I have to work. The money my parents earn is just enough for daily living.”
Zahra combines her passion for art with practical necessity.
“I love art, and I enjoy creating things. So alongside my studies, I make whatever I can at home. It’s both work and pleasure.”
The young artisan appreciates the support she receives from customers who understand her situation.
“When I come here in the evenings, I realize that many people have struggles like mine, yet they still support me by buying my work. Sometimes, the sales are so small they hardly count, but I’m grateful for every bit.”
Not all of these young vendors are students like Zahra.
Samaneh, now in her early twenties, chose a different path. Rather than pursuing a university education, she completed high school and turned to art as her profession, highlighting the different choices these young women make as they navigate their futures on Tehran’s busy sidewalks.
She tells IranWire, “I’ve been making sculptures and statues for six years. After I got my [high school] diploma, it was around the time when prices were gradually skyrocketing.
“I felt that instead of dedicating myself to a university education that wouldn’t yield anything, I should enter the job market. I’ve loved artistic work since childhood, so I started making statues, sculptures, necklaces, and more.”
Samaneh points out that during these six years since she entered the job market, the economic situation has gotten worse year by year.
Despite this, she hasn’t given up and comes to Enghelab [Revolution] Street every evening to sell her artistic creations.
She says, “The further we go, the lower the sales become. The situation has become somewhat torturous for everyone.
“Thank God, I love my work and continue it with dedication. Besides selling on Enghelab Street, I also supply my works to several shops.
“Once or twice, I held exhibitions with my friends and had relatively good sales. When I say ‘good,’ don’t compare it with the multi-million sales of famous people.
“Sales are in the range of a few small wooden statues. Because if I wanted to put my work in a gallery for sale, which is sometimes even impossible for people like me, at a price of five to ten million tomans, the probability of selling it is so low that I prefer to sell it right here on the street for tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of tomans so that I can continue.”
Each US dollar is trading at around 92,000 tomans.
Narges and Saeedeh are two new students at Tehran University of Art. The two girls, about twenty years old, who study painting at the university, create their artistic pieces in the dormitory and come to Enghelab Street in the evenings to sell them.
Saeedeh, who has a modern appearance with piercings on her lips and eyebrows, tells IranWire, “Due to the atmosphere of Enghelab Street, which is a convergence of all arts and cultures, for us who study art, being on this street without mandatory hijab is a form of resistance.
“For me, more than sales, this protest presence is what matters. Because the Art University, which was at the forefront of protests in the Woman, Life, Freedom movement, is now so suppressed that it has made working difficult for us newcomers.”
Narges, who has an ordinary style but is also without hijab, says, “As Saeedeh said, with this closed environment, one’s sense of creativity disappears, because if you want to do student work, you have to be within the university framework, which is not compatible with our spirit.
“Therefore, in university workshops and more in the dormitory, which provides a better opportunity, we do creative work that we can do, such as handicrafts. But alongside that, we also have economic expectations. We come to Enghelab Street in the evenings. We don’t have many sales, but it’s better than doing nothing.”
Tuba, 26, designs on mirrors and sells them at Valiasr Intersection. She tells IranWire, “When I saw there were no jobs, I looked at myself to see what I knew and what I could produce that would also have customers.
“I used design and painting for mirrors and glass. Each mirror has a unique form and design. That’s how I entered the job market to be able to stand on my own feet. I say this with pride and honor.
“Yes, it’s hard-working is hard, especially for a girl on the street – but what has now become prevalent is our girls’ remarkable presence. I think this itself is a sign of women’s victory.”
A large part of the street vendors are women and girls, especially those who sell their artistic creations.
Next to Tuba is a ten-to-twelve-year-old girl who comes here with her every evening. She sells her paintings for “20,000 tomans each” – each US dollar is trading at around 92,000 tomans.
Tuba says, “Since I’ve been coming here, which is about two years now, this little girl also comes and paints beside me and sells her works.
“Childish works, but in my opinion, more important than that is sharing her art with people, which is enjoyable for her. Perhaps a kind of identity expression – that I am a woman. That I exist.”
In addition to the row of bookstores where there are book vendors and artistic creation sellers, there are also people in the Tehran University area who sell their artistic works.
One of them is Ramona. She studied graphic design at Semnan University and now brings her artistic creations here in the evenings to sell.
With her long black hair falling on her shoulders, she stands behind her table and introduces her creations to customers.
She says, “At home, I keep myself busy with my artistic work, and in the afternoons, I come here, arrange my works on the table, and sell them.
“Thank God, it’s fine. It’s better than sitting at home. I enjoy working for myself. Everything I create is primarily for myself, and because it’s for myself, all my feelings, art, and creativity are in it, which is also attractive to people.
“Especially on this street, where there are students and cultural people, connecting is easier for me, and they also connect with my work.
“Thank God, it’s not bad. After four years of studying, the fact that I’m working in my specialized field is good. Although it’s not ideal, it’s better than doing something you don’t like.”
Karim Khan Street has also become one of Tehran’s cultural passages in recent years with the growth of bookstores, galleries, and cafes alongside Enghelab Street.
In the evenings, on this street’s sidewalk, teenage and young boys and girls sell their artistic creations.
Leila, 24, is one of these young girls. Without a hijab, she sits on the platform by the sidewalk and is busy making wooden hairpins.
She says, “I’ve been coming here every evening for two years. Almost since after COVID, when economic pressure increased day by day, I saw that I had to do something.
“Just as I was about to start, we ran into the Woman, Life, Freedom protests, when it wasn’t possible to set up on the sidewalk at all.
“I worked at home for myself, occasionally selling on Instagram, but now I’ve been coming to Karim Khan Street for two years.
“I sit right here, work, and sell at the same time. Sales aren’t as much as you might think. I think the difference between my work and others like me and other street vendors is that we are all selling our handmade items – work that involves creativity, enjoyment, and now, with a little exaggeration, a few more rials, as Shervin says, for an ordinary life… a very, very, very ordinary life… if one can still call it ordinary.”
