As some of my recent posts have indicated, I’ve been pretty concerned with the progress and portent of the current recession. Most days I’m able to somehow remain unperturbed by it, accepting my sense of what will likely fill our future without letting it get me down. Though I can’t recall where, I’ve read that experiences which match your expectations can sometimes bring an odd sense of well being even when you expect unpleasant things. Call it a psychological reward for having a correct sense of things perhaps, a confirmation that the way we understand the world is correct and, therefore, the future better understood and less threatening. My time in Atlanta this past weekend was filled with experiences which, despite their contrasts, did just that. They validated and reinforced my beliefs of where we are headed, and for that reason I suppose what might have been a downer was not.
My parents were in town for the same reason I was – we were going to watch the Greatest Kid in the World perform in the Nutcracker Ballet for the fifth year running, a family tradition in which most details have now become somewhat automatic. This year, however, her performance was at 7:30 pm instead of 10:00 am. Since the GKITW was spending the weekend at her mother’s house my parents and I had all Saturday to fill with something. With the Christmas season in full swing and not everything having been bought yet, out we went.
We got to Lenox Mall at about lunch time on Saturday. I have gone there dozens of times over the years that I lived in Atlanta and I still do some shopping there when I’m in town. It would be fair to say that I have a sense of the place and it was immediately obvious that things were not as they have been. By noon the parking deck on any given weekend is likely to be reasonably full, and it’s not uncommon to have to park pretty far from the doorways. It being the holidays I had some concern that just getting inside might have been a real hassle. Shockingly it wasn’t. On the next to last weekend before Christmas the parking lot was maybe half full. In 20 Decembers I’ve never seen anything like it.
The interior of the mall was still clean and brightly lit and the advertising signage still spoke of indulgence with vivid imagery and celebrity endorsement. Nicolas Cage and Uma Thurman were still smiling from their advertisements for jewelry in the form of watches and pride disguised as evening wear. There were still fantastic luxury cars parked in the hallways – a Maserati for $140,000, a Mercedes 550 for a more modest $100,000. Every sign and symbol of wealth were as prominently displayed as they have been for many years now. In short, all of the fixtures were the same.
Everything else was different.
Unlike years past, the shoppers circulating through the mall were not packed closely and struggling against one another like spawning salmon. They were spread out, timidly advancing from one place to another like cautious deer. To what may be my admittedly biased perception, it appeared that the difference in the crowd’s psychology was as certain as it was subtle: They seemed more concerned with themselves than their shopping trip.
As if the visuals were not enough, there were the snippets of conversation I kept overhearing while walking by shoppers and staff alike in various stores:
“…well all of those people at Bank of America aren’t just numbers you know – they are real people, more than a few of whom have been our customers for quite a number of years.”
“The prices you see here are not as good as the deals that you can get – our discounts are actually way more than what’s marked. Honestly we’re just giving things away right now.”
“…and I know for sure we are going to have a bit of belt tightening here too, hopefully nothing you’ll notice the next time you come to visit us.”
“It’s all 43 stores that we’re closing, not just this one. Our largest shareholder backed out and he owned more than half the company. That’s it. We’re done.”
Hearing all of this I couldn’t help visualizing what the future might look like. What would next Christmas hold at the mall? Could it be that some of the stores with nervous employees would be dark and empty, the “Sale!” signs replaced with “Available for Lease?” Will the Maserati and Mercedes be replaced with Toyotas, or perhaps not replaced at all? Will public service announcements be hung up where Uma and Nicolas once dwelled, their presence made too expensive by the times, their goods sent far out of reach of most shoppers? As is often the case, a look into the future revealed to me the past.
When I was a kid my grandmother would sometimes use an old southern expression to describe once well off folks that had fallen on leaner times. “Too poor to paint and too proud to whitewash,” she would say. It helped to explained the gentle dilapidation of the south that used to be so much more visible than it is now. Before the economic boom of the past 30 years it was not uncommon to see nice old homes that were kept up in the best possible way that a house can be maintained with no money. Neat and tidy, but worn and faded. Some flaking paint, a curled shingle here or there, a chimney with badly patched cracks, a window where broken panes were replaced but the rest left alone and looking all the older for the contrast. If the owners remained in good health their yards would sometimes retain the appearance of a grand old home in better times, but even then there were telltale signs. There were often plenty enough trees, shrubs and perennials but no annuals at all. Dogwoods and azaleas sure, irises and lilies likely enough. But pansies and caladiums, zinnias and tulips? Not likely. You could always divide the plants that lived through the winter and multiplied on their own, swapping them with neighbors that carried on in the same way. But spending money on plants that lived for only a season? That was frivolous.
It was that world and those times that came rushing back from memory when in particular clothing store. This place is something of a landmark for finer men’s clothing in Atlanta. They’ve been outfitting business executives for decades and the gentleman who always takes care of me when I shop there reminds me very much of my grandmother’s generation. Last weekend he gave me his usual greeting, but shortly thereafter did something that he’s never done in the years that I’ve gone there. He leaned in a littler closer and said just louder than a whisper, just soft enough that anyone else nearby would feel like they were eavesdropping to listen:
“You know we’ve got some really nice sport coats at 20% off right now.”
My hair stood up. For some reason that one sentence said more to me about the fact that we really are in a bad recession than anything else I had seen or heard that day or even in the weeks before. Lehman Brothers gone? Ah well. Unemployment up sharply? Very unfortunate. GM and Chrysler on the edge of existence? Scary, but remote. Now my Trusted Man was suggesting that this store needs to use price to motivate purchases? Somehow that was both very close and unsettling. It’s just not the kind of thing that they would say. Until now. I suddenly imagined myself visiting them a few years in the future, their previously glowing shelves worn and mostly empty, the carpet looking clean but threadbare and everyone on staff looking a bit thinner. It’s probably a silly visualization but it’s what I saw. It was just about all the shopping I could handle.
That night we seemed very far away from the mall as we watched the annual pageantry of the Nutcracker. There were all of the beautiful handmade sets and costumes and the beaming children so proud and happy to be be performing for their families in the audience. In that small town the whole community participates in the event – it’s not just the kids. Herr Drosselmeyer and Mother Ginger and some of the party guests are adults volunteering their time like so many others that make the production happen. As I waited for my child to appear I still carried the impressions of the day. I couldn’t help but imagine what the show might look like in future years. Will the bright and colorful costumes be faded and patched as discreetly as possible, the dancing troupe having to stretch their use year after year because of fewer donations? Will the set pieces become tattered and worn, but still serviceable?
Eventually my daughter appeared and I was back in the present moment. As I watched both the show and all of the families in the audience I found peace again. Focused in on their children and neighbors performing once again this year, they were far from the mall too. It may be that these people will become too poor to paint, but if so they’ll also keep things up as best as they can. They will make sure that the show goes on, and people will laugh and clap for their kids and bring them bouquets and proudly take their pictures. The kids would still be as proud and happy to perform as they were last weekend. Whatever hard economic times the future might bring this was a crowd that would find a way to keep up the really important things even if they weren’t always as shiny and new on the surface. They would be here for each other even if Nick and Uma were to drive away in Mercedes and Maseratis never to return.
