Malls Give Me Anxiety

As a teenager, hanging at the mall after school was never my thing. I believe my generation was more into going to the movies or hanging in someone’s basement. I looked at going to the mall without my source of money (my mom) sheer torture, so what was the point? Even if I asked to go “chill with my friends at the mall,” my mom would have said no because at that time only derelicts of society hung out there, shopping at Hot Topic and buying out Annie Anne’s and such. Luckily we saw eye-to-eye on this hot topic.

Some odd years later, as a grown adult, I have no desire to step foot into a traditional mall. Now I’m not talking about the gorgeous outdoor malls you would see in Miami with beautiful architecture, clean sidewalks, and high end stores that have soothing sounds of Sia remix playing. No. I’m talking the old school malls with glass ceilings, fake trees, and kiosks selling hair ties that say your name in over-sized blinged out letters lining the walk ways.

Even though my mall I have gone to since I was a young person has done some major renovations and now has a Nordstrom, two-story Forever 21, and Henri Bendel … it doesn’t really take away the “ick” factor for me. They even tried moving the food court far away from all the “trendy” shops in hopes it would attract the shady balls elsewhere, but I’m going to go ahead and say that didn’t work.

To me, a stroll through the mall is straight up overwhelming and brings me one step away from an anxiety attack. You have the women with double strollers taking up the entire aisle so you can’t pass and have to walk at a snails pace, the people walking down the wrong side of the mall making you play a ridiculous game of chicken, the mixing scents of leather, food, and Abercrombie and Fitch swirling magnificently together, the punk kids who are loud and obnoxious (shaking fist), and the kiosk people who basically come at you with a hair straighter exclaiming that your hair looks like shit and how great they can make you look in a thick accent.

Ps. If you know where this image is from, we are officially best friends.

And you will always see someone you know. That saying, “always dress like you are about to run into your worst enemy,” is basically for people who frequent malls. It is the perfect place to play, “this is your life.” “OMG Kate is that you!?” is the most terrifying statement in the world when all I want to do is find some God damn leather over-the-knee boots and go home to watch Will and Grace reruns. You want to run, you want to pretend you had a tragic scuba diving accident and have lost your memory, but you can’t. Insert torturous small talk here. “Yeaaaaaah it HAS been a long time since pre-K :::rolls eyes:::”

And kids … the kids. The crying kids. The parents who let their kids scream bloody murder. It is like the bad elevator music of every mall. “SUZY! IF YOU DON’T STOP CRYIN’ :::mother continues to shop as daughter continues to scream her brains out::: I SWEAR I WILL TAKE YOU HOME RIGHT NOW!” Jesus. YES! Take her home. How can ANYONE shop with a screaming toddler? Seriously. Yet I see it all the time. I don’t even have kids, but when I’m shopping and I hear a kid start to scream and carry on, I vacate the premises immediately. I’m getting a headache just writing about it.

The idea of having everything in one place may seem like a dream, but something happens to the general population when they step foot into a mall that I just cannot take. I don’t know if it is the bazaar and abnormally hot temps or the absurdly loud techno music from Abercrombie, but everyone just gets a little crazytown. A little too crazytown for my liking, if you ask me. I blame Abercrombie.

Outdoor malls or even city shopping is much more my jam. I think it is because when you vacate a store, you get a breath of fresh air, literally. You get to remove yourself from the crazy for a mere moment until you find your next destination. And if you had too much crazy, you don’t have to walk through another wave of ultimate crazy to get to where your car is. Kid is crying like he/she is being murdered in the store you’re in? Go outside, there is probably a park somewhere to sit and meditate and get your brain waves back in order. It’s genius.

Down with indoor malls. We have all these innovations in life, yet we still shop like it is 1985. “Let’s like ditch and go to the mall :::twirls hair/pops gum::::.” Nope. NOT up in here … NOT. UP. IN. HERE.