Sunday, December 21, 2003

I recently made my first trip to a Wal-Mart.

I was dressed very casually in pants and a sweater. I grabbed a cart and was on my way, up one aisle, down the next. So much stuff.

I came away with batteries, a pair of slipper socks and my old-fashioned, natural popcorn, which is hard to find. I will go back, if only for the popcorn.

These days we shop for bargains -- the most and best for the money. That seems to be our goal in any given shopping experience.

While I look for bargains like everyone else, I spend a lot of time thinking about what is missing.

Magic is missing. It seems we can't afford magic, especially at bargain prices.

I am a creature raised when department stores garnered respect.

Such stores were to me a source of security, much like Linus' blanket. We trusted them the way we trusted our family doctor or dentist.

In particular, what only those of us who grew up with department store mentalities can claim to know, shopping has changed big time.

Maybe we get more for our money. But an era is disappearing. It's a costly transition.

I know young people today think the mall is the same. After all, more than one of the few still-existing department stores usually anchors the malls of America.

But it's not the "main" store. It's not the same.

An article by Adam Gopnik in the Sept. 22 New Yorker, "Under One Roof," addresses the diminishing list of department stores, stating openly that the mall itself now plays the role of "amusement place and social center."

Not startling news, but a bit sad.

And maybe a bit sad only to those of us who remember how it was when a major department store Downtown was a destination to be savored.

Department stores were, and remain in memories, an integral part of our lives. And not just during the holidays.

Shopping, believe it or not, wasn't always just about finding the cheapest turtleneck or bathroom towels, with convenient and free parking.

So many people complain about shopping. I think it's because the experience has changed. I shop in today's store atmospheres and can find just about anything and everything. It's more than I will ever need.

Still, my money can't buy what I think is missing. Pleasure. Awe.

When I first went to New York City in 1951, I had to see Bloomingdale's and Lord & Taylor before I saw the Empire State Building.

Dallas meant Neiman Marcus, Chicago was Marshall Field's, Philadelphia was Wanamaker's, London was Harrod's.

Yes, pleasure and awe each time.

True, at one time they were the only game in town. No malls, no branches, no "fleet" of stores with the same name.

We can still get the merchandise, and good merchandise, in discount stores, and the branches of still functioning department stores, but where is the magic? It's elusive.

I grew up in Uniontown, where we had two major department stores on Main Street. They've been gone for some time, but they were the hubs of downtown life in a small town.

They seemed bigger than life, and just a wee bit intimidating. That was part of the adventure.

As nice as our hometown department stores were, the trip to Pittsburgh's major stores was a ritual before Christmas.

We would get hot in our snowsuits and tend to drag our feet, but mother shuffled us ever onward, and after our chocolate sundae in the store restaurant, we were revived and managed another hour or so.

I guess Wal-Mart and the mall branches of major stores look the same to a small child.

Actors often refer to that moment before the curtain rises as "magic time."

I dare to use the same term to describe the shopping experience in the department stores we knew.

Perhaps children today are gathering their own memories -- at the mall. I hope so.

But where is the magic of that old-time department store? It's slowly but surely slipping away.

Mostly what stores give us today is lots and lots of stuff. At a great price. With a cart.

For some people, that's enough.

The department store, considered "a new mode of retailing" in the 1880s, is now the object of a death watch. And I am in mourning.

That said, happy holidays.

E-mail this story   Print this story