It's a Mall world after all...

“It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears, a world of hope and a world of fears

There’s so much that we share that it’s time we’re aware it's a...."

Small world. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always loved Mom & Pop stores. Boutique stores. Family-owned businesses. Small little four walled universes unique unto themselves. Maybe it’s because my grandparents owned a fountain shop, the forerunners to coffee shops and bodegas on Flatbush Ave in Brooklyn. Besides the swiveling red leather fountain bar stools and the tall bubbly refreshing glasses of egg cream, there was a cascading candy section by the cash register, and 45’s and magazines to scroll through. It was just a mish mosh of stuff to catch your eye or buy when you stopped in for a sandwich or a cup of coffee and find yourself sitting next to one of the regulars. In my case, getting to hang with my grandparents. Let’s call it hearsay that my grandmother’s second husband, we called him Yasey, ran numbers in the back room. Point is, it was a world onto itself where character and characters existed and were formed.

So, when I moved to Nashville over 32 years ago, one of the things I liked, looked for and felt familiar with, even though I was now a Northerner in a Southern mentality world, were the one-of-a-kind shops that existed. The reason I bring all this up is because what I’ve come to notice, one by one, year after year, all my favorite Nashville haunts are disappearing. In the past 12 months alone, several of my favorite stops have shuttered. And what is most upsetting is that they were businesses that offered a truly unique experience of shopping that is fading fast. 

The bead shop where the ornery owner had the scraggliest looking herd of miniature poodles that would bark incessantly and run to attack as if they were lions every time the little bell dangling from the door rang when you entered the shop. They’d scatter just as quickly if you dare to squat and pet them. His shop was full of curios and an incredible assortment of beads from all over the world that I could touch and hold and ponder over. The owner wasn’t the most reliable in terms of friendliness, however he was always helpful.

As a matter of fact, just a few doors down the street, sat another bead shop I also loved and frequented. That shop too, in a little house in the Berry Hill section, was just so cool and fun to linger in. What I couldn’t find in one place, I most definitely would find in the other. And while there were no yapping dogs to contend with here, the owner could be a bit on the snippy side from time to time.

Not too far down the road, there was the most luxurious and yet practical of fabric shops. I followed this business through three location moves over the years. There was always a back room of 75% off remnants, where I would find the most wonderful assortments of fabrics to create one-of-a-kind pieces. Behind the counter, stood at least three to five, what could only be described as old maid women (this may be a DEI slip of the tongue) who were all business with a touch of eccentric personality thrown in for good measure and conversation. The relatively large owner of a man was somewhat reclusive and like the bead shop owner did not exactly score points for friendliness when on site, however I appreciated his fine taste in fabrics. Red Carpet fabrics for sure. I’m still grieving the closing of this shop.

And then there was another wonderful little house in Berry Hill where one could find the most beautifully curated assortment of Shabby Chic home goods you never thought you needed, owned by a talented interior decorator with a bless your heart southern personality, impeccable taste and the cutest little French bulldog. Her mom who helped run the shop was friendly too and it was just one of those places to drop by and have a word and know you’d find something you couldn’t find anywhere else. Since I have always been a die-hard estate sale and yard sale shopper, I’d find things I’d know she’d love and over time I found myself not only shopping in her store but for her store. And then one day, must have been after Covid, poof, it was gone.

I guess all this came to mind this past weekend as I was starting to think about holiday gifts and found myself on 12th Ave South which is beginning to feel like one corporate shop after another and then at the ever-expanding Green Hills Mall. Everything starting to feel so generic and void of warmth, surprises and familiar faces.

I’m beginning to feel like an old maid eccentric myself with lines that start with, “Back in my day…” or “I remember when…” What I distressingly notice most in this ever-expanding world of the corporate business shopping experience is it’s just one generic business after another, making the world feel like it’s shrinking somehow and not in a good way. So, as I quietly grieve the loss of snappy little scrappy poodles charging at me and ornery blunt owners who still seemed always appreciate of my frequenting their shop, I find myself silently singing and coming to the realization…

“It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears, a world of hope and a world of fears

There’s so much that we share that it’s time we’re aware…”

….it’s a Mall world after all.