So it's noon on a Thursday and I am sitting inside Twelve Oaks Mall in Novi, Michigan. It was barely 11 degrees Fahrenheit when I woke up this morning, there is snow on the ground, and the roads are icy, but I had a severe case of cabin fever. Not wanting to sweat at the gym on a treadmill going nowhere, I ventured out, and drove 20 minutes to the mall to join the morning mall walkers. After a few laps, I found an empty couch in the carpeted mall center seating area on the first floor to read. It is well-designed and feels like a large public living room. The couches, chairs, end tables, and futons are movable; pleasantly arranged for small groups of people. The area is carpeted, with over-sized lamps at each of the four entrances, and surrounded by a low wall which prevents people from cutting through the space. Music is playing at a comfortable volume and guests are surrounded by the mumble of chatter from shoppers.
The mall is packed with a few hundred guests. There are those in gym shoes and headphones still walking laps. There are grandparents, childcare providers, and moms with small children in strollers. There are couples of all ages doing light shopping and chatting. There are seniors enjoying coffee and newspapers and even some doing crafts. (There is a women knitting next to me). There are store employees taking a break and mall cleaning staff looking for messes on the floor. There are moms and dads with older children shopping on perhaps special days out of school, and there are groups of middle and high school students. The amount of youth here during the day on a school day is most surprising to me. (I later found out that a very large school district close-by was on mid winter break).
Maybe this mall is an exception to the decline of the American enclosed shopping mall. It is in the Midwest, which is affected by cold, snowy, and long winters, in an affluent suburb 30 miles from downtown Detroit. As the dominant regional mall, it serves a large population. It has nearly 200 specialty stores and restaurants and five anchor department stores, and it is surrounded by every kind of retail shopping one could possibly need. I do not know what kind of business the stores do, but I know that it is nearly impossible to find a parking space in December and is relatively packed on any given weekend.
Anyway, as I sit and people watch, I can't help but reflect on this experience and what it says about Americans and the American culture. I think we are starved for human interaction! I came to the mall because I knew that there would be people here and I needed to get out. Side note: my cabin fever is more severe this winter than usual because I just finished graduate school and am currently unemployed.
But seriously where else can we go when we have cabin fever? People go to cafe's, restaurants, public libraries, and parks to sit, read, and interact. But in the winter, when you can only be outside for a few minutes before the snot in your nose freezes and your bones start to ache from the cold, and you don't want to purchase a coffee or sandwich, where can we go? Where are the places we can people watch? We don't have to many options to satisfy our craving for social interaction.
The American dream is based on individualism and private property. We own our own land, with our own home, our own appliances, tools, and toys, our own transportation, and even our own pools. We live in little (nearly identical) boxes in sprawling suburbs and we get into our individual cars to go anywhere. Our values do not encourage us to share our individual things, to ask our neighbors for a cup of sugar, to have a conversation with a stranger, or to hang-out in public spaces. We are terrified and intimidated by density, yet our behaviors demonstrate that we crave social interaction. We go out of our way to leave our house and be surrounded by people, just because. Once we are out, we only sit where there is activity to watch, people to hear, and a scene to be part of; where the chance for social interaction is high. But we have to pay for that satisfaction. The only places to go are private businesses.
This is not new information to planners, but our behaviors suggest that our social needs are not being fulfilled by our daily lives in suburban America.
I imagine a US where there are public places inside and outside to fulfill my need for social interaction when the cabin fever sets in. Or even better, a world where my needs are fulfilled by my daily activities. A world where I can be around people as I walk or bike to work, where I know my neighbors by their first name, where I share a plot in a community garden, swim in a public pool, and take a streetcar with strangers. A more dense urban world where I can sit in a public space to read and write. That sounds like a great community. The mall is a community. It is a place similar to a cafe in a downtown. It can't be the only answer...but then again, I am a Millennial with a thirst for urban life. Suburbia and its cul-de-sacs have cut off "diversity and the casual outdoor experience [I] feel is crucial to meaningful human sociability (p. 207). So I sit here at the mall...
Also, book review:
I just finished The Great Inversion and the Future of the American City by Alan Ehrenhalt. It's good.
