Mall management
I live in the Twin Cities, home of many things, including the largest enclosed mall in the United States. Notice all the qualifiers and you’ll see that there are larger un-enclosed malls (King of Prussia, PA) and larger enclosed ones not only in the world, but on the same continent (Canada).
Nonetheless, the Mall of America, known to locals as the mega mall, gets a bad rap for its hugeness. All anyone ever has to say is “It’s got a roller coaster in the middle!” and listeners will nod, assured that it is huge beyond all other malls. I worked at the mall for about a year, though, and during that time I learned its secret. It’s not that different from other malls.
Yeah, there’s the roller coaster. But it’s really small. MOA has the usual four department stores, and all the shops you’ve come to expect. There are also some surprises, like the cheese shop that hands out free squeaky cheese curds. Yum. Like most malls, it does not include clear lines of sight from one end to the other, and there are no public clocks to tell unwary shoppers that it’s time to go home. Malls and department stores are constructed like this on purpose; they lure you in and then make it difficult to leave. If you know the traps, though, they’re easy to avoid. The Mall of America is manageable, but many natives avoid it because of size, crowds, and a sense of general distaste. I can’t help with the latter, but I can offer a few tips on how to get the most out of a trip to the mall.
One, set a time limit before you go, and don’t exceed it. One of the worst feelings is being in Nordstrom Rack, trying on shoes, and shoes, and shoes, then finally finding a pair that fits only to get in the “get the other shoe” line, which takes FOREVER. It’s agony. A corollary to setting a time limit is that if you’re going to Nordstrom Rack, just do that–you’re probably not going to have much left in you for anything else.
Two, have a mission. Don’t go to the MOA if you’re just going to hit the Gap, Ann Taylor or other mall standards. Head to the mall only when necessary, for things that can only be done there. Today, I went to Nordstrom (that’s Nordstrom without an ’s’, thank you.) with my husband G. Grod to get our son Drake fitted for shoes for the first time. He’s only ever had Robeez, which did very well for him but are not able to stand up to our Minnesota winter. Drake got a pair of Chuck Taylors for his birthday four months ago, which he finally deigned to wear last month. And his feet promptly grew too wide for them. A shoe-fitting was in order, and Nordstrom was the place, so the mall was our destination.
Three, park as close to your mission as possible. For Nordstrom, you take the Lindau Lane exit, and go up the West parking ramp. For Bloomingdale’s, take Killebrew and park in the East lot.
Four, go when the mall opens. Mid-day is hell.
Sadly, I must confess that I went to the Mall of America twice today. Once to get Drake’s shoes, after which I did a whirlwind scour of the clearance rack in the toddler department. I was too hurried, though, and picked out pants that didn’t fit him. Baby sizes and their ridiculous ranges are maddening. He has outgrown several outfits that were size 18M, so I picked out pants that were 24M, only to find when I tried them on that they were four to six inches too long. When you’re not even three feet tall, that’s a pretty long pant. What’s most maddening is that I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THIS WOULD HAPPEN. Drake had gotten several pairs of pants for Christmas that were all too long, and then I went to the mall and bought him several more, without checking to make sure that they weren’t too long. And, of course, they were. Argh. So tonight I went back to the mall and returned the over-long pants. Armed with a pair of pants that I KNOW fit him, I found a few other pair that were just a skoche bigger at Hanna Andersson. I’m going to try them on him tomorrow to be certain. Drake is an active, screamy toddler and I don’t bother trying clothes on him in the store. The shoes were challenge enough. A further difficulty of baby sizes is that, like the baby, they’re a moving target. Yes, I’m pretty sure Drake just had a growth spurt, since his belly is now hanging out of most of his tops, but no, I’m not sure how long he’ll stay this size, so I want to buy clothes and shoes that have room to grow, but that are not so big that they fall off, or impede his movement.
I take some comfort that the original mission of shoes was achieved quickly and successfully. That the pants took two trips was discouraging, but may yet be worth it if they fit.
Bah, pants. They’re more trouble than they’re worth, except for that pesky social convention that insists that we wear them.
January 4th, 2005 at 4:28 pm
Ah, but here in the Pacific Northwest, we add the the “’s” to Nordstrom because we are going to Mr. Nordstrom’s store. It is only polite. There was a time–not that long ago–when it was not unusual to see a Nordstrom scion working their way up the corporate ladder clerking at one of their stores. I recall my first pair of “cool” tennis shoes (Jr. High don’t ‘ya know) were fitted to my feet by none other than a Nordstrom grandson himself.
Oldtimers here will also refer to “Boeing’s” as in “Bill Boeing’s little aircraft company.” But, good grief, NEVER, EVER say “Warshington.”