It really is like a scene from Dawn Of The Dead but without the gore. I’m sitting in a dingy corner of a soulless, greasy Mona Lisa’s Italian style cafe sipping dishwater coffee from a paper cup whilst mindlessly gazing out into Manchester’s Arndale shopping centre. It is devoid of any personality; with shiny marble floors and glass balconies shimmering beneath bright white lights and wide walkways spreading away from the huge atrium like the all engulfing tentacles of some vast sea monster, it condemns all the lost souls trapped within it’s embrace to wander aimlessly, in eternal circles. I could be in any one of the thousands of similar shopping malls sprawling across the continents.
Seething masses of humanity move through the arteries of this vast cathedral to consumerism, bringing their life giving currency to it’s myriad of competing outlets. There are two distinct personalities to most shopping malls. At one end dimly lit high end designer stores; all selling the same dreary overpriced merchandise, but in different colours; nestle alongside intimate coffee shops with cosy cubicles and subdued lighting, whilst at the other, stark, cheap and tatty bargain stores jostle with over-bright neon pop and cookie stands. Small independent shops and have largely disappeared having moved to online trading. Well why pay a premium rate for premises just for the sake of the half dozen or so folk who might wander in to have a look before wandering out again without having made a purchase. These two areas generally meet at the “food court” where I am currently sitting, which has everything from takeaways to posh nosh restaurants, non of which offer any culinary surprises and all of which charge ridiculous prices for mediocre, at best, fare.
My gaze rests for a moment on a muddy coloured homogeneous blob of humanity as it coalesces at the top of the escalator, seeps slowly to the floor below then disperses like spores on the wind to drift mindlessly past me. Harassed women pushing screaming toddlers in rickety buggies whilst texting their friends, groups of half dressed teenagers full of self importance, wannabe rappers wearing baggy joggers and the ugliest trainers on the market, and smartly dressed office types fitting their shopping into their half hour lunch break; all oblivious to everything but their own little quest to hunt down the latest bargains on offer, unaware of the watcher. A few push rudely against the current, bristling with their throwaway designer bags full of stuff they’ll only wear a couple of times before listing it on Vinted or eBay, in a vain attempt to be noticed. But nobody does.
I used to be just like them, I loved nothing better than going into town or to Meadowhall when shopping centres such as these were a new concept. Netti and I would often enjoy a day out shopping! Usually with a nice lunch thrown in. And I would often come away with something totally unsuitable just because it bore the latest “in” label. But now, watching the stream of people shuffle by in a trance like state, I have a moment of clarity. I no longer like shopping!
What has changed? Is it me? Is it the shopping? I suppose, when it comes down to it, it’s a bit of both. It’s all such a hassle these days. Getting ready, getting to there, shlepping around searching for the shops you want, deciding on lunch, getting home. It is so much easier to shop on line. I can buy my latest want before getting out of bed in the morning and it will arrive the following day. And when I do make the effort there is no longer the joy in finding something different, something unique, something special. Browsing; or window shopping as it used to be called; has become boring and, as I have matured, I realise I no longer need nor want much of what is on offer so what is the point of mindlessly trailing around shops I don’t like in the forlorn hope of finding something I can’t do without.