I'm not a mannequin

Yesterday I was in a MALL. This is a very infrequent occurrence in my life as a whole. As a child I grew up in a rural community and trips to the city were exciting events that happened infrequently. When I look back I'm never quite sure why I found them exciting, perhaps it was simply something different, a change in the schedule, the possibility of something new. It certainly wasn't because I actually found shopping enjoyable. Since we didn't go shopping often, the trips were usually long and involved buying underwear and winter parkas. Shopping with three grumpy tired kids can't have been all that much fun for my parents either. 

The one thing that I always looked forward to was the possibility of spending time at Coles bookstore (no longer in existence). The sore feet and long hours were worth it if I could just be let loose for a time among all those good friends I had yet to meet. Coles was the one saving grace in a mall filled with nattering sales people trying to convince me that I looked wonderful in that T-shirt even though it fit me like a sausage in a casing. It was the one place I felt at home. 

Yesterday, I found myself in the mall. It was of necessity. I don't go shopping unless I have to. Since I live in the city now, the trips are thankfully shorter, though no less infrequent. However, because I was going to meet Alicia there, and my tasks took less time than I anticipated, I ended up walking the mall for well over an hour. As I walked passed the stores, Victoria's Secret with its soft porn advertising (or maybe not all that soft) and shoe store after shoe store, I was struck by a sudden realization. All the "edifying" stores were gone. I know there are millions of people who would probably like to argue with me that La Senza and Forever XXI are edifying, but this isn't their blog. 

What I mean by edifying stores are the stores that fed people's hearts and minds. There used to be art (real art, not a zillion copies of a Gerber daisy or two cute kids kissing), musical instruments (along with sheet music and records), books, games and toys (often educational), craft stores and shops dedicated to the art of cooking. And now it seems we are just mannequins who need to be dressed and undressed and dressed again. Almost every store I passed by was dedicated to this purpose of shaping my outer persona, of covering up my flaws and flaunting my...well, we won't go there. 

Like I said, as a child the one saving grace in the mall was the book store. The craft store and the toy store were a close second. They were the places I could breathe, provided I wasn't standing too close to the eucalyptus branches used for making tacky 80's swags for over the mantel.They were the places where I could explore my interests and escape from the never-ending concern about my body and how I looked to other people. And I don't like to get all immersed in the "oh, this whole world's going to hell in a handbag" kind of mentality, but this realization did make me stop and think. Young people spend hours in these malls. I could tell when school got out because the hallways were flooded with young people. And certainly a few looked like they were coming in to grab an item and leave, but for many, this is a serious past time. And it just made me think. I'm not a mannequin. None of us are mannequins. 

We are so much more than dolls to be dressed up. We are worth more than a BOGO shoe sale. We are worth fables, and biographies, arias, and ballads, and banjos, and cellos, and pastels, and oil paint, and canvas, and easels, and Scrabble, and Trouble, and hiking, and baking, and pasta making.

And I'm not saying that I expect the mall to be the place where we go to become whole, complete human beings, but perhaps I'm just afraid that spending a lot of time at the mall will make us forget that we are.