From the suburbs of Minnesota to big coastal cities, the mall was a special place.“Was” is the operative word because, of course, what once captivated the hearts and weekends of teenagers around the country is now a shell of its former self—sometimes literally. Even with a reported 9.7% surge in visits this year, the magic that used to live within those giant concrete walls is probably gone forever.
And you know what we’re talking about. The smell of Auntie Anne’s cinnamon pretzels mixed with movie popcorn and old pizza that had been sitting under the lights a little too long. The rush of walking through the food court after a dizzying amount of shopping, stopping at every sampler until you were full. Checking out new music, trying on clothes, and seeing friends in a random store only to stand at the racks and talk for an hour. That terrible retail job you had working at Abercrombie Kids, folding the same shirt over and over just to look busy (oh, wait, that one was just me?).
For people in fashion especially, the mall seems to kick up a particular nostalgia pang—especially around the holidays when so many formative memories were created, and clothing was the indisputable backdrop. In the 80s, 90s, and early aughts, the mall was about discovery and community, something modern shopping seems to lack.
To celebrate what once was (and perhaps wish for some sort of return), we asked six fashion insiders to tell us their favorite mall memories.
Cortne Bonilla, Senior Commerce Writer, Vogue
“When I picture my childhood, the mall pops up often. Maybe more than often. My mom is a fashion lover, and growing up on Long Island meant weekends were spent piling into the family car for a trip to Green Acres Mall. I’d pick out my outfit with delight, picturing the salt flakes hitting my tongue from an Auntie Anne’s pretzel (dipped in mustard). Browsing through Bloomingdale’s felt like a sumptuous hallucination. I’d play under the racks while my mom searched for Norma Kamali, Donna Karan, and Dior kids—for me and my sister, thankfully. Then, we’d go to Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse in Garden City with our Little Brown Bags. My mom always says I would constantly wonder, “Where’s my Little Brown Bag? I need one!”