My 13-year-old niece wanted to go shopping at the mall this afternoon. School starts in just about a month down here in Atlanta, and after a year and a half of virtual learning, she had some clothes shopping to do before returning to 8th grade in person. So her mom, Heidi, and I all piled into the car and drove her out to the nearest "real" mall-- you know, the one with the food court, department stores, and Forever 21.
As Heidi and Annabelle headed off together to browse the clothing, my sister and I literally poked through Williams Sonoma and then meandered along the upper level, commiserating about our loathing of shopping. "We used to love it though, remember?" I said, and we reminisced about malls of our past-- Lynnhaven and Pentagon City. Eventually we found a table and sat down to play gin rummy with a deck of cards I had found in the sale bin at Anthropologie.
A little while later we joined Heidi and Annabelle, and my sister was drawn into school shopping, but I kept on people watching. As the afternoon grew later, the crowds grew as well, and the place became a vibrant scene of American consumerism. Parents with strollers and little kids, teens and 20-somethings, and folks in their 30s drifted in and out of stores, ambling along with shopping bags from Nike, Urban Outfitters, Gucci, and Crazy Rabbit. Just the variety of shoes and hair styles was vast enough to hold my attention, although I avoided staring too much.
Coming out of one store on her way to another, Heidi laughed and compared me to her dad, who is infamous for joining shopping trips just to find a bench and sit while the rest of the group trolls the stores in search of that must-have item.
Maybe the old guy isn't so nutty after all.
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