Why I Hate the Mall

The decision to walk through the Mount Shasta Mall and take photos of amusing/repulsive corporate displays seemed a good one. Better than waiting in the very smelly waiting room of the tire store while they replaces worn tires on the family vehicle.

An impromptu art blog project seemed just the thing to fill the hour. I never go the mall to shop or to see the latest fashion trends. I still remember quality cotton items, well made. Even as a teenager I used to buy things from the Army Navy store because everything else seemed a cheap and tacky manipulation. Plain old super soft cotton army pants have always been my favorite item. Basic Navy work bells — 100 percent cotton denim were heavenly to me. Lame synthetic shifts, dorky coo-lots, no thank you Penny’s, Zody’s, KMart.

Thrift store have more exotic choices and, yes, far better quality items.

Very few people are in the mall at 8:30 a.m. A few olderly walkers taking advantage of the smooth floors and the “safe” environment. You might catch sight of a janitor.

Some pleasant merch could be seen in the windows of Old Navy.

“Hello, Kitty.”

I encountered a flock of funny faces frozen in delight. Ah, Summer! At least Old Navy seems to have a sense of humor about how they market their cheaply produced yet refreshingly basic items. They were pretty much the highlight of this photo hunt. Most other windows were dark and dull.

Another teenage dream store filled their windows with fairly tacky post-porn chic meets Housewives of New Jersey tight jeans and spangled, sparkly t shirts.

Why did this store put their ugliest candy next to the window? It looks like a surreal prison photo, or an element of the Toy Story 3 dystopia.

The quiet, lonely atmosphere was nice.  Most malls should have the shops closed 2o hours out of every day. I say, keep it spooky.

My peaceful rummaging for images was soon interrupted by the authorities.

A middle-aged mall defender, whose job it is to keep terrorists from casing the joint, came up to me while I shot this super shiny mushroom. It was located in a children’s play area adjacent to where the music shop used to be.

“You can’t take pictures in here.”

We were standing just outside the storefront window of  the local TV station whose tele-reporters routinely prowl the mall with cameras in hand.

In another incarnation, I was allowed to prowl  the mall — camera in hand –asking the question of the week for the local newsrag.

I argued for a while with the mall man about these obvious trespasses of  the alleged no-photos rule. He threatened to call security. I decided the shitty pictures were not worth escalating this retarded situation. The menacing silver-haired lady, armed with her flashless point and shoot made for the exit. It turns out security was a very nice red-headed woman. We had a talk about the instances in which photography was allowed, about the repercussions of 9/11 and then I left for less hostile grounds.

I did get a picture of See’s Candy  —  always sweet and tasty. Beware the Happy Habit. But . . . caramel  . . . drool.

My parting shot at the mall, just outside the west entrance is appropriately an X.

I do not ♥  the mall.

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One Response to “Why I Hate the Mall”

  1. Jessica Pratt Says:

    haha, what a funny story. People sure are dumb.

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