Outlet shopping and Gilroy Crossing shopping are better than
mall shopping. At least one can see the sky and breathe fresh air
in between stores, which alleviates the claustrophobia.
Huzzah, Christmas break is here. I have two weeks entirely free, and a third week almost free, except of course for correcting algebra tests and homework, making lesson plans for the rest of the year, writing columns, catching up on deferred volunteer work, and, oh, yes, Christmas.
Christmas, Christ’s Mass. I love Christmas. I love contemplating the mystery of how God incarnated Himself as a human baby, born to save sinners like me. I love seeing my far-flung family. I love decorating, especially the ritual of cutting down our tree. I love cooking with my mom and sisters. I love giving Christmas presents. In fact, I love everything about Christmas…
… except shopping. I hate shopping.
I hate all shopping, which obviously implies that I am naturally deficient in estrogen. Some shopping is worse than other kinds. Shopping for electronics is the worst. It is as bad as a root canal. Shopping for shoes is less bad; it rates right up there with cleaning the bathroom. Christmas shopping is the best possible shopping, which makes it almost as interesting and challenging and fun as re-roofing the house.
Shopping these days is simpler than shopping was 15 years ago. We have money now, which is a big plus when spending it. And I no longer have to consider the schedules of babies and children while planning my forays. Now I just have to consider what, when, and where to buy. Especially where.
The worst place to shop is the mall. Any mall. Malls make me claustrophobic and crazy. Malls are full of frenzied crowds. Mall roofs shut out the sky. Malls are full of cookie-cutter stores: materialistic, homogeneous, soul-less.
My mall-phobia is why I am completely indifferent to the possibility that a 1.5 million square-foot mall might be built on 108 acres east of Gilroy.
As a good private property rights advocate, I think the choice of what to do with that farm land should lie solely with the owners thereof. But as a mall-phobe, my visceral reaction to the idea of a mega-mall is hysterical nausea and horror.
It is amusing, however, that no environmentalists or open space advocates have applied to be part of the task force to determine the fate of the land. Ladies and gentlemen of the green persuasion, if you won’t take part in the process, you lose the right to complain. But I digress.
Outlet shopping and Gilroy Crossing shopping are better than mall shopping. At least one can see the sky and breathe fresh air in between stores, which alleviates the claustrophobia.
Internet shopping is improving all the time, and is matchless in terms of convenience and comfort. But it is a bit unnerving to buy things without being able to actually touch the merchandise. Returns are a real pain.
The best shopping of all, for friendly, personal attention and service, is downtown shopping.
The only bad aspect of downtown shopping in Gilroy is that your choice of gifts is, shall we say, circumscribed. You have a choice of antiques, coffee, vacuum cleaners, antiques, musical instruments, bicycles, antiques, camouflage and camping gear, antiques, archery equipment, boots, antiques, clocks and collectibles, antiques, costumes, jewelry, and oh, yes, antiques.
Actually, that’s not a bad assortment. Stop for coffee at Sue’s or lunch at OD’s or Judy’s, and you have a very pleasant shopping day.
The best part of downtown shopping happens after you have patronized an establishment for a few years running. Then you can waltz into, say, Porcella’s Music, and say, “Hey, Dave, I need a violin for a Christmas present.”
While you are waiting for him to finish with the customer before you, you can look through the stacks of sheet music, the drawers of guitar picks, the racks of capos, the cases of harmonicas and electronic tuners.
Dave will tell you about your options. If he doesn’t have one in the size you need, he will order it for you, and remind you that you might need a shoulder rest, and find an appropriate pitch pipe. When you pick it up, he will tune it for you, and throw in a lump of rosin for free.
You can’t get service like that at a mega-mall.
Cynthia Anne Walker is a homeschooling mother of three and former engineer. She is a published, independent author. Her column appears each Saturday.
