While in L.A. last week I visited one of my very favorite places in the city–a strange predilection given the fact that I a) dislike dodging honking, tourist-crammed trollies b) find ‘choreographed’ fountains laughably tacky and c) never patronize Chico’s, Tommy Bahama or American Girl Place. Nevertheless, I’ve been perversely fascinated by The Grove for as long as I can remember.
It’s difficult to articulate exactly why I would ever choose to go there, since all of their stores can be found elsewhere in the city, sans as many Ritalin-ready, screaming children or unattractive, PDA-loving couples. Maybe because it’s an ‘outdoor’ mall? Or because it’s great for my favorite pastime, people watching? My Grove ardor has nothing to do with the fact that it’s adjacent to The Farmer’s Market, something I (sacrilege!) could care less about. Seriously, a lot of that food sucks.
Professing my love of the lame typically elicits one of two reactions: the raised-eyebrow ‘Really?’ followed by a befuddled half-laugh, or a brief silence. In the latter instance, so as not to hurt my feelings, the other party conveys a gentle, pseudo(?) mutual understanding, as in, ‘Yeah, well, it’s not that bad, I guess.’ Others have just looked at me like I’m batty or completely ignored my painful confession altogether.
So…why the infatuation? I can’t say that The Grove makes me especially nostalgic for a happy childhood spent frequenting chain stores, safely ensconced in a Yankee Candle-and-french-fry-scented consumer Panopticon. That was never me to begin with. Third Street Promenade, also an outdoor ‘mall’ of sorts, doesn’t do it for me. The Beverly Center, though upscale, is also gross. Obviously I went back there, too.
Beyond The Grove, I actually rather loathe malls. Of course I’m still inexorably drawn to them. There’s the requisite sensory assault factor (olfactory, aural, visual) coupled with a sterile, why-am-I-lost-oh-because-everything-looks-the-same homogeneity—specific to extra large, enclosed commercial spaces frequented by bored/antsy/desperate suburbanites. No store conjures nefarious mall thoughts the way Abercrombie & Fitch does. Once the King of Retail, now just another string of struggling, d-bag emporiums. You’ve been dethroned, Abercrombie. By Hot Topic.
But you shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve dressed the same way since the mid 90s and you still expect to pull chicks and hold the longest keg stand and get over your lacrosse injury one day. Lately the beer bloat has rendered you unable to squeeze into those not-so-stylishly frayed cargo shorts. Your moose-logoed flip flops have fallen apart and the sweatshop fleece you wear with them out to bars has gotten a big hole in it. Life as you know it is going to Hell. The kids don’t like you anymore and last month your same-store sales declined by 34%. I never visited your Grove outpost, Abercrombie. The wafting odors of collegiate cologne and pulsating Euro/WeHo techno beats still frighten me away.
I’ve digressed (big surprise). And I’m still having trouble explaining why, exactly, I so enjoy The Grove. Cool stores? Not particularly. Great dining and entertainment options? Nope. Chic clientele? Hell no. When I lived in L.A. I could have argued proximity and therefore, convenience, but as a New Yorker that argument no longer holds weight. I guess I go back because it’s safe and airy and wonderfully, effortlessly cheesy. You only smell incense (no Yankee candles!) if that hippie chick at the cart is burning it, and you totally won’t get shot if you try seeing 17 Again on a Saturday night.
You can propose by that lovely fountain and have a real live maid hand you your towel when you wipe your hands in the bathroom. Celebrities go there all the time. The Barnes & Noble has a balcony. They play “That’s Amore” while you’re dining al fresco. And there’s absolutely no stand dedicated exclusively to fake hair, lorded over by an overzealous brunette with a blonde ponytail. At the end of the day, there’s something to be said for that kind of shopping experience.
+Sarah
The Grove, 189 The Grove Drive, Los Angeles, CA 90036, 323.900.8080
