The first thing that hit you when you walked through the heavy glass double doors was the smell. It was a...
The Mall Used to Be Where You Learned How to Be Seen |
Before we had driver licenses or paychecks, the climate-controlled concourse was the only place to learn how to exist in public. |
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News for the America we remember |
The first thing that hit you when you walked through the heavy glass double doors was the smell. It was a very specific, manufactured atmosphere. It smelled heavily of roasted nuts, chlorine from the indoor fountain, and the faint, sweet exhaust of an Orange Julius stand. We stepped out of the humid summer air of 1978 and into this climate-controlled terrarium. We were fifteen years old. We had no car keys, no jobs, and absolutely no reason to be there. |
My friend Mark and I stood near the entrance, adjusting to the dim, amber lighting that dominated suburban architecture in that era. We patted our pockets. I had three crumpled dollar bills and a handful of silver coins. Mark had roughly the same. We were not there to contribute to the local economy. We were there because it was Friday night, and the mall was the only piece of geography where a teenager could simply exist. |
There was an art to walking the concourse. You could not walk too fast, or you looked desperate, like you were actually trying to get somewhere. You could not stand perfectly still for too long, or the security guard would ask you to move along. The accepted pace was a slow, deliberate shuffle. You kept your hands in your pockets and your eyes scanning the crowd, always projecting the illusion that you were on your way to meet someone very important. |
Our circuit always began at the north end, anchored by the massive brick fortress of JCPenney. We walked past the display windows filled with mannequins wearing sensible corduroy, offering them barely a glance. We were scanning the benches. The seating arrangements were the true social hubs of the ecosystem. The heavy wooden benches surrounding the planters were claimed early in the evening by the older kids, the ones who had cars parked out in the vast asphalt ocean |
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