Woodland Mall

Going to the Woodland Mall was both an endeavor and an ordeal. It was quiet out when I walked in, and immediately was introduced by the noisy music from the stores, the waxed marble flooring, and the middle-aged women brushing past with their name-plated brands clutched in their fists. Macy's was especially kitschy, gaudy, and all the workers wore their best heels and dangly earrings, ready to show me the path to the clothing rack that was most appeasing to me. I looked at the advertising concepts that the store offered. "50-75% off!" on a red tag glacially swooped its way across the store.

Being from a small town in Texas, I'm not used to big city complications; when I was a child I wandered off from my mother in a shopping mall and the whole building had to shut down just to find me, who was oblivious of ever roaming off. Malls have always been a memory of crying mothers trying to find their children and shopping racks as unintentional, fun places to stow away. This weekend, I honestly got lost trying to find my way out - I knew where I parked my car and I knew where I came in. Regardless, after 15 minutes of going in circles, I embarrassingly asked a man at an information desk to point me the way. This reminds me of being in a mega church, with completely no idea which parking lot your car is in or where to sit. I left being exhausted by the amount of energy given to simply trying to find someone I knew to answer questions. There was only the lull of celebrity-driven culture, and the movement to be more if you have more. It was reflected in Paul's assertion on page 71 that, "Malls communicate the 'spirit' of the market through a comm formula. They disorient us by using natural and religious symbols and spatial patterns in an enclosed indoor setting, and then reorient us toward one or another of the purveyors of goods."