Now I know people love stories of dead or dying malls, I mean, I do too. Empty institutional architecture puts the honey on my peanut butter toast. But there's a difference between stores fleeing a mall because there are no patrons and stores fleeing a mall because someone’s gonna drop an ice rink on it.
And that, my friend, is the story of Northgate Mall.
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| The white space is exactly that; empty. |
I went there last week to eat belt sushi and made a disquieting discovery: The center of the mall has been walled off. The food court end of the mall was surprisingly busy for a Friday mid-day, but the other end was pretty dead. Oddly, there was at least one mall-walker and I could not figure out for the life of me how she was going to walk the mall. Jump over the barrier and power walk through the vacant center? Or maybe she was gonna do what I did, and pop in different entrances whack-a-mole style until she found something other than a wall.
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| I wasn't kidding about the wall |
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| The black at the bottom is a plywood barrier. |
Nordstrom was the only thing open in the center section, and they were selling off their fixtures. By fixtures, I mean some really nice furniture, cash registers, and some mannequins doing inappropriate things. Then I started wondering if the woman at the sole remaining counter had arranged them in a fit of bitterness. After dressing and caring for them all these years, they were now being sold for a partly $95.
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Humans who have turned into mannequins. |
”Mom?” my son sounded concerned, ”Why do some people turn into mannequins?”
”Well, according to the Twilight Zone . . .” (Not actually what I said. He now knows this is not possible.)
I’m oddly sad about the death/upgrade of this mall. This was the place I taught my babies to walk with me instead of wandering off. It’s where they learned not to turn on fire hoses, even if they look like steering wheels. I really hope, even though I’m not hopeful, that this is just a reinvention and not a cold-blooded murder.
