Honoring lost retail moments

I once had a great, girly love of department and clothing-store shopping.

As a child, teen and young adult, I enjoyed going into now-defunct retailers M.M. Cohn, Gold’s House of Fashions, West’s Department Store, Sterling Department Store and Magic Mart.

I remember enjoying not just the sight of new items and the possibilities of owning them, but the air. There was something about the smells of these places. There was the smell of newness, of promise. There was that sense of satisfaction when the cashier wrapped or bagged my purchases and I walked out with them. As one who has always worn dress and shoe sizes euphemistically labeled “special” or “hard to fit,” and which were always limited, this sense of satisfaction was even stronger when I managed to score a clothing item I really wanted.

Today, I shop in-person quite a bit less. Time is at a premium, as is money. It’s only so long before these feet of mine start to protest. If it’s a busy day at the store or a big sale is going on, it’s only so long before I began to get weary of having my personal space invaded. So I’ve gradually become one of those customers who would rather be told online that what I want is out of stock rather than hop in the car, drive to the store and find the next size down or the next size up, along with a gaping literal/figurative hole where the size I need should be.

Now I’m feeling a bit guilty at hearing of all the in-person shopping opportunities that seem to be dropping like flies throughout the country.

Those of you who read my colleague Jennifer Christman’s April 11 column will remember her lamenting the closing of some Payless Shoe Source outlets. Since then, a number of other store chains have announced similar news. According to a

story at Money.cnn.com, Ascena Retail Group — owner of Ann Taylor, Dress Barn, Loft, Lane Bryant, Maurices and Catherines stores — plans to close what may be hundreds of these stores in the next 24 months. We’ve already heard about the troubles of quite a Who’s Who list of other store chains, some of which were once venerated in Retail Land. Internet shopping is the culprit, according to this and similar stories.

Cuing the theme music to that old hit song “The Way We Were,” I wistfully add a few more memories of the art of department-store “retail therapy”:

■ Making mental notes of the area store dressing rooms that had “fat” mirrors that made one look bigger vs.

“thin” mirrors that made one look smaller.

■ Trying to fold sweaters and shirts back the way the associates had them folded … with varying degrees of success.

■ Humming or singing along with the piped-in music, even though it’s likely to be interrupted by “Customer needs assistance in the shoe department!”

■ Appreciating those friendly, helpful associates who know not to hover too much.

■ Clearance racks that still have stuff in my size.

As the stores go, so do the jobs. As someone employed in an industry that has also suffered due to the internet and who is still blessed to have a job, I sometimes struggle between sadness over the way things were versus accepting the fact that things change with the times, leaving us with the option of adapting and reinventing ourselves.

I think we all go through that these days. All we can do is travel the road that’s best for us as consumers and hope/ pray that those who lost retail jobs will find others. I, for one, will be mindful of the advantages of the in-person shopping experience … advantages to myself and to those hired to provide the experience.

Lest any independent shopkeepers feel I’m neglecting mentioning them … I thank you for being there. If you find yourself emerging from the shadow once cast by a big retailer, gaining customers because of that emergence and are able to hire some laidoff store associates to boot, then that’s a decent consolation prize for us all.

P.S. Happy Father’s Day to the dads who brought some business to the shopkeepers this year.