Huge apartment blocks spring up like Japanese knotweed all over the
world. Shopping malls have
become entrenched in cities like pernicious weeds. They have
even developed their own subcultures.
Studies show how young people claim such places as their own personal
playgrounds. We will gradually unearth
how such shared spaces have changed city cultures for more than just the youth.
Already, the elderly have migrated to such malls in search of warmth and company. When you are truly alone even being in the vicinity of others becomes a vicarious pleasure. You get to watch changing real life interactions instead of the TV. In northern climes the cost of heating becomes too expensive for those on limited pensions. Shopping malls become a cheaper alternative. A place to stretch their legs protected from the elements. In some cities these serve as social hubs. Where you can check out the latest hospitalisation, death, opinion, experience and news. In our cities the elderly, the disabled or ill can feel city streets are far too unpredictable. Traffic, uneven pavements, gangs of youth can restrict their routines. To have a place with some level of security can be a welcome blessing.
Next time you are in a shopping centre have a good look around at the people who inhabit such places. Some malls, target the vulnerable (not spenders) and have become proactive in driving what they see as ‘spongers’ out of their patch. Security guards harass gangs of youth to move them on. The elderly are more easily displaced by a lack of seating in such centres.
Women with pre-school children linger near colourful displays and toyshops. Their offspring are free to explore these shiny corridors unburdened with coats etc. In amongst the motley throng are the real shoppers that the whole centre is designed for. They emerge from doors laden down with bags advertising their purchases. They don’t dawdle but walk purposefully from one hunting area to the next. The big hunters know all of this is aimed at them. They prowl their kingdom expecting bargains and good service. Astute shopping assistants can spot the big cats with a glance. They know these watering holes have an attraction but must be careful in how they engage these lions. Too much attention is seen as harassment, too little as bad service. A good assistant should be able to read a client. Is this a predator in good nick? Ready to spend? Or are they one of the subcultures killing time in the shopping paradise? Judging this right will mean they adopt either a subservient attitude or a haughty dismissive turn of the head. These places are not social centres after all. They are designed to make money, that is their sole reason for being.
If you have the time enter the nearest shopping mall to you. Spend an hour but not one penny. Observe the sub cultures that you find. Actually, see those that share your space. What is their age range? Do they look happy and content? Will you find that the majority are there, not out of choice but, as a refuge from something. The young shop assistant opposite me has been manning her jewellery display for almost an hour. No one has bought anything or even looked at her products. She periodically combs out her long hair flicking is over her shoulder. Then, she checks out her appearance in the mirror beside her cash register. She fiddles with trays of rings. Taking them out and putting them in again. Occasionally, she presses buttons on her till to look busy. Afterwards, she rearranges some necklaces as if they have been fingered out of position. Now, she’s examining the jewellery as if she is a customer hoping to get someone to emulate her. No joy, she’s reverted to combing her hair again and walking sideways in front of the mirror checking the waistline. Tip toeing to see if her blouse is tucked in smoothly. It’s disheartening to see the repetitive displacement activity in a human. Mindlessly repeating useless activity because they have no other choice.
Am I any different? I walk along the front to a different café/venue each day and then write what comes to mind. It’s being creative I tell myself but how much of it just marking time? I may be on a longer more scenic circuit but is there any difference? My activity is in many ways less worthy than hers. She earns a wage, while I churn out my writing. Everyone in this mall has his or her reasons for being here. Security, warmth, company, work, shopping or people watching. The escalators move in ceaseless circles moving us up and down. The giant hamster wheels that transport us to shop entrances. Wall to wall window displays all around, do our thinking for us. The swish of notes and change out of cash registers mark the passing of our lives. Busy, busy bees going nowhere together.
Already, the elderly have migrated to such malls in search of warmth and company. When you are truly alone even being in the vicinity of others becomes a vicarious pleasure. You get to watch changing real life interactions instead of the TV. In northern climes the cost of heating becomes too expensive for those on limited pensions. Shopping malls become a cheaper alternative. A place to stretch their legs protected from the elements. In some cities these serve as social hubs. Where you can check out the latest hospitalisation, death, opinion, experience and news. In our cities the elderly, the disabled or ill can feel city streets are far too unpredictable. Traffic, uneven pavements, gangs of youth can restrict their routines. To have a place with some level of security can be a welcome blessing.
Next time you are in a shopping centre have a good look around at the people who inhabit such places. Some malls, target the vulnerable (not spenders) and have become proactive in driving what they see as ‘spongers’ out of their patch. Security guards harass gangs of youth to move them on. The elderly are more easily displaced by a lack of seating in such centres.
Women with pre-school children linger near colourful displays and toyshops. Their offspring are free to explore these shiny corridors unburdened with coats etc. In amongst the motley throng are the real shoppers that the whole centre is designed for. They emerge from doors laden down with bags advertising their purchases. They don’t dawdle but walk purposefully from one hunting area to the next. The big hunters know all of this is aimed at them. They prowl their kingdom expecting bargains and good service. Astute shopping assistants can spot the big cats with a glance. They know these watering holes have an attraction but must be careful in how they engage these lions. Too much attention is seen as harassment, too little as bad service. A good assistant should be able to read a client. Is this a predator in good nick? Ready to spend? Or are they one of the subcultures killing time in the shopping paradise? Judging this right will mean they adopt either a subservient attitude or a haughty dismissive turn of the head. These places are not social centres after all. They are designed to make money, that is their sole reason for being.
If you have the time enter the nearest shopping mall to you. Spend an hour but not one penny. Observe the sub cultures that you find. Actually, see those that share your space. What is their age range? Do they look happy and content? Will you find that the majority are there, not out of choice but, as a refuge from something. The young shop assistant opposite me has been manning her jewellery display for almost an hour. No one has bought anything or even looked at her products. She periodically combs out her long hair flicking is over her shoulder. Then, she checks out her appearance in the mirror beside her cash register. She fiddles with trays of rings. Taking them out and putting them in again. Occasionally, she presses buttons on her till to look busy. Afterwards, she rearranges some necklaces as if they have been fingered out of position. Now, she’s examining the jewellery as if she is a customer hoping to get someone to emulate her. No joy, she’s reverted to combing her hair again and walking sideways in front of the mirror checking the waistline. Tip toeing to see if her blouse is tucked in smoothly. It’s disheartening to see the repetitive displacement activity in a human. Mindlessly repeating useless activity because they have no other choice.
Am I any different? I walk along the front to a different café/venue each day and then write what comes to mind. It’s being creative I tell myself but how much of it just marking time? I may be on a longer more scenic circuit but is there any difference? My activity is in many ways less worthy than hers. She earns a wage, while I churn out my writing. Everyone in this mall has his or her reasons for being here. Security, warmth, company, work, shopping or people watching. The escalators move in ceaseless circles moving us up and down. The giant hamster wheels that transport us to shop entrances. Wall to wall window displays all around, do our thinking for us. The swish of notes and change out of cash registers mark the passing of our lives. Busy, busy bees going nowhere together.
There are those who have fought all this development tooth and
nail. In fact in China they are called
‘Nail Houses’. Refusing to sell up, they
hang on long after the rest have cashed in.
They anchor themselves to the spot when there is no longer anything much
left to protect. The photos of their
stubbornness are as brutal as any war.
One is not sure to either admire their steadfastness or bemoan their
wasted endeavours. I’ll let the photos
do the talking.
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