>Scenes from a Mall
>Last night, Hubs and I took Baby, my 15-year-old stepdaughter, and two of 15’s friends to a local shopping mall. Who knew a mall on a weeknight is the perfect entertainment venue for a two-year-old? Anyway, here are my deep observations….
The Stores
Wet Seal? Why would a teen clothing store be named Wet Seal? No one wants to look like a wet seal, so what the hell are they thinking?
Spencer’s Gifts. How is it that this place is still around, selling the same cheap Playboy playing cards, whoopee cushions and lava lamps? I don’t get it.
And Hot Topic. Hot Topic. I swear, it hasn’t changed one bit since I was hanging out in malls with my teenage friends 15 years ago. When will this Goth thing go out of style? They seem to be the cockroaches of the fashion world- They were here hundreds of millions of seasons before gauchos and they will be here long after gauchos are gone…
The Carousel
Baby rode her first carousel at the zoo a few weeks ago, so when we saw that the small carousel at the mall was totally empty, we had to give her a ride. She chose to ride on a “white bunny” and so I propped her up on it and knelt down in front of the bunny, holding on to her sides while Hubs stood beside us.
Since we were the only ones aboard the carousel, the attendant, a kindly older woman, gave us an extra-long ride. After about three rotations, my knees were killing me. But I couldn’t move because I would have had to let go of Baby. After ten rotations, I started talking loudly every time we’d pass the attendant.
“Oh Baby, I guess you’re ready to get off now?!”
“Nooooooo!” (Okay, that one didn’t work so well).
Next rotation: “Wow, this was fun, too bad we have to GET OFF NOW!”
The attendant just smiled.
Next rotation: “We’ve been on this carousel a REALLY LONG TIME! You look DIZZY, Baby!”
What was she, deaf? The scary-go-round continued.
Next rotation: “For the love of God, TURN THIS THING OFF!”
I guess she got the picture, because finally, finally, the carousel came to a shuddering halt.
I stumbled away on my gimp knees, glaring at her darkly.
The Easter Bunny
As we left, we were approached by none other than the Easter Bunny! On closer inspection, I realized it was merely a woman dressed as the Easter Bunny. I could see her grimacing face through the bunny’s gaping mouth.
She gripped Baby’s hand without much enthusiasm, then turned to my husband.
“Hey! I recognize you!” Her bunny ears perked up.
She proceeded to follow Hubs for a good thirty seconds, chatting away while Baby was left in her dust. Hubs was pleasant, but noticeably creeped out by the notion of an Easter Bunny-turned-groupie.
As she said goodbye, I was faced with an etiquette dilemma that I haven’t been able to find in Emily Post or Amy Vanderbilt. When talking with a person in costume, does one make eye contact with the costume’s eyes, or with the eyes of the person inside the costume, barely visible behind an open mouth covered in netting? I chose the costume’s eyes, but felt distinctly uncomfortable with my decision, since the eyes were a good foot and a half above her face. Bother.
The Mall Pet Store: A Dying Breed
This particular mall contains a pet store, something that you don’t see too often in malls these days. Of course, Baby had a shit fit when we got there. “Bunnies!” “Birds!” “Mice!” And the piece de resistance, “Puppy daws!” She spent a good ten minutes shrieking and squealing at the array of dogs caged before us, shouting “Down!” at them when they’d leap against the bars and “No, doggy!” when they’d bark.
At one point, one of the puppies got loose and rushed straight for her. She gasped in horrified delight and put her hands to her cheeks as the dog rushed past her.
“Ohhhhh!” She said, grinning wildly once the puppy had been recaptured. Hubs and I were inordinately pleased, convinced that this small incident proved that she likes danger. Good danger. Danger that will later include river rafting trips, roller coaster rides, and snow skiing. Our Baby is no wuss. Boo. Ya.
Ruby Tuesday’s is for Losers
As the mall closed and we met back up with our troupe of teens, we discovered that 15’s friends had gone into the mall’s Ruby Tuesday’s and ordered virgin Pina Coladas at the bar. So we waited another 15 minutes while they giggled at the bar and flirted with the teen waiter assigned to make their drinks.
“This sucks,” Hubs fumed to me outside. “I’ve gotta go to work tomorrow and here we are waiting for them to get these drinks made.”
“Oh, they’ll be in no hurry, either,” I agreed. “They think they’re all cool right now, sitting at the bar. Someone needs to tell them that sitting at a Ruby Tuesday’s mall bar on Thursday night is totally not cool.”
“Yeah!” he agreed.
Never mind that this kind of not cool situation is resembling our weekly date night on a fairly regular basis. I’m in the process of coming to terms with sacrificing cool for convenience. But my stepdaughters don’t have to know that…
>Have you seen “Forever 21….” ACK. And I know – wet seal. I never really got that…
>I laughed aloud at your dilemma on the carousel. (Sympathetically, of course, since I get motion sickness and I hate carousels.)I swear that Spencer’s has had the same exact stuff on its shelves since I was a teenager. I think they just dust if off once in awhile.
>We always called “Wet Seal” “Wet Skank”. But… my friends and I were not always the least crude people around. I also remember thinking how cool I was sitting at a bar and giving my number to waiters when I was 15-18. I thought that they totally thought that I was at least 20. But, given the fact that I’m 25 and people still don’t think I’m 21, I doubt anyone was fooled.
>God those bitter sweet teenagers! We have that joy to come. Our 11 year old has a blog, a phone, an Ipod and more attitude than… an attituded one! (couldn’t think of anyone on this Friday eve…)I have a similar carousel experience but I think it may have been at a Pumpkin Patch (of Doom). The darned little boats kept on going round and round and round over the same rickety carnie built bumps and was it getting faster… it felt like it. FINALLY I looked over to see the attendant asleep on his deck chair… Bastard! SOme other pimply youth had seen the commotion and come over from the Slide (of doom) to turn the fucker off!And yes… totally agree about the malls and HATE upon HATE upon HATE adults dressed up as anything…SCARY
>I here you on everything. My mall has a Carousel and it too makes me ill. I totally remember pet stores in malls but I haven’t seen one in ages.You should check out Mall Rats. Great watch if you like Kevin Smith Flicks!
>Spencers and Hot Topic stay in business because there is a new crop of twelve year olds that think it’s cool coming along all the time.
>Hot topic. LOL yeah, I remember that phase of my life a little too well if you know what I mean! and I have to agree with yellojkt, 12 year olds think goth is cool but if they could actually tell me were half of the bands originated, I would be impressed. I live next to a mall. it’s gone real ghetto (and it has a hot topic and forever 21!!). last time my friends Mariposa and Claudia took Peanut there some woman said, “Who’s baby is this that I can steal?” WTF????
>I can’t stop laughing over the visual of you making eye contact with the plastic easter bunny eyes. That is friggin’ classic.
>Malls are highly educational. It gets as hot as blazes here in Florida so when Girlie was a tyke, I took her strolling at the mall in the summer and she taught herself the alphabet. She’d point to a letter and I’d, say, “That’s an A. A is for Anne Taylor. That’s a B. B is for Banana Republic.” Pack away that scorn, you internetters, she learned to read when she was three (probably so that she could fill out a credit card application.)
>Virgin Pina Colada’s at Ruby Tuesday’s in the mall. Rock On 15, Rock. On.I’ve never even been inside a Hot Topic. I scare easily. But, Spencers – love it! I still walk through there and giggle…and buy cards.
>Are there really any nice wholesome stores for teens to shop in? Nothing is as bad as Abercrombie. If my daughter asks to shop there I’ll have to prostitute myself just to afford the cover charge to get in, let alone the clothes.