When you looked so hot in your parachute pants
Last night Mr. Sparky and I had a little time to kill, so we did something that we haven’t done in a very, very long time.
We wandered a shopping mall.
And by shopping mall, I mean the old school kind where everything is under one roof, and you can get a whiff of the Auntie Annie’s pretzels or Cinnabons from just about anywhere in the entire joint. I think they strategically place those eateries so that their Pied Piper smells will draw folks from the far reaches of even the big anchor stores.
Most of the malls I’ve visited in the past couple of years have been pretty sad places. Run down, lots of empty store space, dated decor, unenthusiastic shoppers. They reek of mildew and apathy.
I remember the ’80s when malls were THE place to be. You didn’t want to go near them in the evenings or on the weekends because of the throngs of teenagers hanging out to see and be seen. The crowds were ridiculous. And during the holidays? Forget about it. Mall, maul, it was all the same.
Malls are falling out of fashion. Shopping is not, however. People still like to spend money and acquire stuff. They just don’t want to do it under one huge temperature-controlled roof.
I don’t know what it’s called, that thing in us that gets bored and desires newness, freshness. Maybe it’s a form of wanderlust for those who tend to stick close to home. It’s the same thing in us that gets excited when some product we’ve used for years rebrands and gets a trendy new label.
Of course, when a couple of decades pass and that old label reappears, we get all excited about the “vintage” packaging.
Gosh, humans are funny. And by funny, I mean weird.