I haven't gone yet, but I plan to. Soon. For now I'm satisfied with catching a glimpse it as I drive past the Slauson exit in Culver City on the northbound side of the 405. Actually, I've been glimpsing it for a couple of years, as construction crews erased the mall's west parking and erected more anchor stores and shops that promised to take the old Fox Hills Mall upscale (I never liked the corporate chain name, Westfield) and a food court that promised the same.
I should have been happy about this, or at least interested. Even in terrible economic times in which the phrase 'steady money' has become an inherently conflicted idea for most people (especially for those of us in journalism), I'm a hopeless consumer at heart. There's hardly a mall or shopping district in L.A. county that I don't know or haven't checked out. Merely looking at stuff makes me happy, or at least more optimistic than I was before I saw it. Even if I walk away empty-handed, I feel like I've participated in the flow of the modern-day marketplace. I've communed with my fellow consumers, even had brief but meaningful conversations ("Where'd you find that?" "On the table over there, on the purses marked forty percent off. Really good deals over there.") I should have been among the first to visit the transformed Fox Hills mall, especially since I live about fifteen minutes away-- ten if I hop on the 405 and it's clear.
But that's just the problem--I'm too close to the mall. Fox Hills is one of those rare malls that was never just a place to shop for me: it was a crossroads in more ways than one. It sat at a juncture between affluent Ladera, working-class black neighborhoods like Inglewood, white middle-class Westchester, sleepy, pre-redevelopment Culver City, and LAX. The resulting shopping demographic was a singular mix of all ethnicities and expectations, including slightly bewildered tourists who might have wound up at Fox Hills on their way to Rodeo Drive. Despite the mix, Fox Hills always had something of a black image--the old Robinsons-May sold cosmetic lines for black women--partly because the Fox Hills corner of Culver City is notably black. The stores were never luxe or high-profile; the food court was unspectacular. But that was its appeal. It was a real neighborhood mall. People actually went there to shop at their regular spots, not to be seen or to be romanced in store aisles by vendors of the latest pricey designer perfume. You could get that at Macy's, but just across from Macy's was a beauty supply store that was much more practical
.Fox Hills also figures prominently in my personal history. When I was I college in the early '80s, I used that vast parking lot to stow my car while I hopped the bus to UCLA (without a campus parking pass, being a commuter student was always a creative endeavor). For years, I met my mother and sister in the food court on Saturdays, our lunches serving as a kind of huddle before we broke up and went our separate shopping ways. I was reunited with an old friend in Macy's in the sale section of the women's department; it turned out that she, like me, had been a Fox Hills regular for years. We called the store and its sale section "our" Macy's.
My friend Marilyn has been to the augmented mall,and she hates it. Not the same, she says. They should have left it alone. It's bigger without being better. More stuff without there being....more stuff. I'll go in one of these days. But one of the advantages of living here is having the option of driving by. I'm not advocating isolation, but sometimes a glimpse is really all you need.
This image was taken by flickr user Metro Library and Archive. It was used under the Creative Commons License.
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The Fox Hills Mall was a prominent part of my '80s childhood; both when it was *the* place to go for entertainment (remember the "Time Out" arcade on the 2nd floor, next to JCPenneys?), and for toys and model kits (Karl's Toys & Hobbies, which was also on the 2nd floor...next to the arcade). Growing up in Westchester, it was always a frequent spot for my friends and I to hang out in the early to mid '80s, and I celebrated at least 3 of my birthdays at the Round Table Pizza.
This was, of course, in pre-pubescent times, when girls weren't yet a big deal (to me, at least). But my friend and I did see Belinda Carlisle at the Contempo's, and that was a big deal.
In the later '80s the mall got gritty. Gangs took it over and it just wasn't fun anymore. A couple of my friends got held up at gunpoint in the parking lot. Eventually it became a place to avoid rather than frequent, and all I could do was remember better times.
I've been to the new "Westfield." I can't stand that name. Yes, it's bigger. Yes, the food court has gone gourmet. Yes, it's cleaner. But it's lost that charm and innocence of a "real neighborhood mall," as you say.
I guess it's give and take. Good and bad. They cleaned it up, but also cleaned it out. But ain't that life in the big city...