continuing the requiem for lost youth
27 Apr
Remember, in the flurry of youth, when the mall was someplace you actually wanted to go to? Seems no one else can either.
Intellectually, I can remember twice weekly worship sessions at these air-conditioned, brown-and-orange tiled temples of commerce attended by roving bands of Aqua-Netted, denim clad youth, but I can’t remember the last time I was actually in one when I didn’t feel just a little bit unclean.
Oh well, I’m still kind of glad that someone out there is filling a necessary anthropological void by chronicling the lumbering decline of this former American institution. It’s a worthy and interesting discussion of suburban decay.
Also, I’ve actually been to more of the properties listed than I necessarily care to admit.
