The Shopping Mall Is Dead. Long Live the Shopping Mall
Malls were, for many, structurally part of growing up—be it for after-school jobs, pierced ears, Cinnabon cravings, or awkward dates. For writer and critic Alexandra Lange, author of Meet Me By The Fountain: An Inside History of the Mall, it was where she skim-read the exploits of Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield (her mother was firmly anti-Sweet Valley High) and bought her first miniskirt.
Despite being a pillar of the suburban experience, Lange notes the scornfulness with which it’s regarded: “‘Looks like a shopping mall’ is considered an architectural insult” and “‘mall rats’ are considered unproductive members of society.” Frank Lloyd Wright, when asked for a comment on a new mall, practically spat: “Who wants to sit in that desolate-looking spot?” In her introduction, Lange admits, “the mall was ubiquitous and underexamined and potentially a little bit embarrassing as the object of serious study.” Nonetheless, its reputation belies its
