Ah, the American shopping mall—once the glittering, air-conditioned utopia of suburban life. It was where teens loitered, moms power-walked in Reeboks, and “mall rats” were actually a thing. For decades, malls were more than just places to buy a questionable amount of Wet Seal crop tops or devour an extra-salty pretzel from Auntie Anne’s. They were a cultural institution—a beacon of consumerism, socializing, and, let’s face it, a fantastic place to do nothing but waste time.
In the ’80s and ’90s, malls were a microcosm of American life. These architectural marvels weren’t just retail hubs; they were a community’s social glue. The rise of mega-malls like Minnesota’s Mall of America, with its roller coasters and indoor theme parks, cemented the mall as a place where anything could happen. And let’s not forget the food courts—oh, the food courts. The variety! The grease! The mystery meat on a stick!
And let’s not forget the pure magic that descended on the mall during Christmastime. Overnight, your average mall would transform into a glittering winter wonderland, exploding with lavish decorations. The entire place would be buzzing with frantic shoppers on a mission to score the perfect gift for their loved ones. And, of course, who could forget the infamous photo with Santa? Always a magical—and sometimes downright terrifying—experience, depending entirely on which Santa you were unlucky enough to get…
These colossal structures, packed with stores and food courts, were absolutely teeming with life. They were the gathering spot, whether after work or on the weekends. Even if you didn’t buy a thing, just being there—people-watching—was an experience all on its own.
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. These days, walking through a mall feels more like wandering through a ghost town—you’re more likely to see tumbleweeds than people carrying shopping bags.
Enter the internet boom. With the rise of online shopping, suddenly, a trip to the mall felt less like a fun day out and more like a chore. Why bother putting on pants and driving to a mall when you could scroll through Amazon in your pajamas, sipping kombucha, and pretending to be productive? Fast fashion got even faster, and department stores morphed into sad mausoleums of abandoned sales racks. Before long, bustling malls turned into eerie, near-empty spaces—like a post-apocalyptic scene, minus the zombies but with the same haunting vibes.
Some of the most iconic malls went bankrupt. Remember Sears? JCPenney? Yeah, they’re still technically around, but it’s more of a “Weekend at Bernie’s” situation, where they’re propped up but clearly not alive.
So, what’s the future of the American shopping mall? Is it destined to be nothing more than a relic of ‘80s nostalgia, like mixtapes and feathered bangs?
The reality is, these massive structures are taking up valuable real estate in cities and towns across America. The big question is: what do we do with these gigantic, abandoned malls? Should they be repurposed into corporate offices, turned into apartments, or perhaps left as bizarre time capsules—a museum of retail’s past for future generations to gawk at?
According to CBS, many urban planners are working to transform these malls into spaces that better serve the community, rather than letting them become massive eyesores. Some cities are repurposing former shopping centers into office spaces, residences, churches, fitness centers, and even haunted houses.
But even with all this creativity to reimagine malls into something more suitable for everyday life, you can’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for those simpler days—grabbing an Orange Julius while browsing the aisles at Spencer’s.
Clearly, there’s still a future for the American mall. Though it might look more like a trendy mixed-use space with artisanal cheese tastings than a spot to snag a good deal at Hot Topic. But hey, we can’t have it all.
One thing’s for sure: The mall as we knew it might be fading, but like any good ‘80s movie reboot, it’s coming back with a modern twist. Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll all be reminiscing about the mall’s second golden age, sipping oat milk lattes, and shopping for VR headsets.
Till next time, be wickedly wonderful.
like everything else they touch, a certain community that ruins everything it touches started showing up at the mall. what ensued was fighting, theft, chaos.
Would love to speak with this writer. There’s more to the death of malls than you may think.
My dad graduated college in 1969. He was from the small town South. When he was a freshman, his roommate told him “You gotta come home to Chicago with me sometime. We have this amazing thing, it’s called a Shopping Mall!” My dad said “What’s that?” The guy said “You know your downtown, with all the shops, theaters, sidewalks, restaurants?” My dad said “Yeah, sure.” He said “It’s like that, like a huge downtown, but it’s all in one big building.”
In 1966, he had to describe a mall by referencing Downtown.
At that time, America was more like Europe. Downtowns (or as they say in Europe, “City Centers”) were— and had always been— lively and active. They were not only the centers of shopping, dining, and entertainment, they embodied the character of a town or city. Small towns had bustling, cute little downtowns. Big cities had sprawling, busy downtowns. Downtown was the soul of a town. It was public property. Everyone owned it. You could do what you wanted there as long as you followed the law. You were not expected to buy anything when you were downtown. You could, everything was there, but you didn’t have to. You belonged. Everyone did.
Malls killed all of that. Malls were a response to urban sprawl, which was in turn a consequence of Eisenhower’s Interstate system. Malls represented a vision of America that removed all of the culture, all of the identity, all of the flavor, all of the individualism, all of the civic identity. It replaced it with pure consumerism. It stripped the soul from downtowns and turned everyone into mere revenue-generating units who were permitted to be there as long as they were purchasing things, or at least looked like they intended to. Rather than civic idenity and historical architecture of the city, malls were stupid, blocky shells decorated with MERCHANDISE!, designed to take your money. They were designed not to serve the public but to serve the wealthy people who owned the malls. Malls are like McDonalds compared to a steak and potatoes dinner at a mom and pop restaurant; quick, flashy, feel-good vs nutritive.
If you’ve ever strolled the streets of a European city/town/village, or visited one of the few remaining functional downtowns in America; or if you’re old enough to remember when bustling downtowns in America were the norm; then you know what we have lost is incalculable. Downtowns work WITH the city, they define and reinforce the city. Malls drain the city.
Malls destroyed our cities. Good riddance. Don’t be nostalgic for
Malls. Be nostalgic for downtowns.
Of course, the only thing worse than malls is online shopping and food-delivery dining, which separates us from each other and destroys the last vestiges of Place. Compared to online, malls seem great.
I’ve only been in one mall in the last several years, my nearest one closed even before COVID, but the one I’ve gone to a couple of times seemed to be doing pretty fair business, not great, but probably OK.