I've sort of been thinking about writing about "the mall" my whole life. Yes, that sounds sad, but really, the mall is the quintessential people-watching playground where on any given day you can see things that you only imagine or perhaps have never imagined. My fascination of the mall sub-culture goes back to my pre-teen years when my mom used to take my sister, her best friend, and I there every Wednesday as our school got out at noon. I recall memories of acid-washed jeans, Iron Maiden patches on denim jackets, high that nearly reached the top of the atrium, and enough make up to fill a Tiffany concert, and those were just the guys!
So what is my point? Am I just here making fun of this creation of 80's? Absolutely not. I love the mall, as long as I don't have to spend too much time there. I went tonight to do some Christmas, or holiday shopping, as it were, and while I'm still a little nauseous from watching some guy get a massage with his face implanted in a sweaty cushion that had been used by God knows how many people, I was pleased with my purchases and even got a little nostalgic.
And I bring you "The Mall Chronicles," which will be a variety of musings on life, love, and the pursuit of Phoebe Cates; while sharing some stories, poking a little fun, and perhaps taking just a glimpse back to the glory days of mall culture. So don't be afraid to pop in your favorite Poison CD - or tape - and I invite you to share with me. Whereas I'm sure my postings will come at random times, but hopefully will bring a smile to face of at least a few of you. Rock on!
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