Say Goodbye To All That

My Air Pods Pro were acting upwardly, the right one anyway. So I jumped into an Apple support chat, and was walked through a few tests by a friendly homo—at to the lowest degree I call back it was a human—somewhere in the world. The problem was not fixed, and he—she? it?—suggested I make an engagement at my local Apple Store. Which I did, on the spot.
Ninety minutes later I was walking through Northbrook Court, or what'south left of it. Formerly a lux shopping mall, now a ghost town. Empty storefronts displaying items from those few stores still in business organization, or crafts from charities. A few marginal businesses—custom t-shirt shops and such—that would have never made the cut in the mall before. The was some life: a few knots of teens wandered about, or sat in the massage chairs however prepare out. A quartet of sometime ladies playing cards. And a line of people outside the Apple Store. A helpful associate, Tom, took my Air Pods for farther tests, and told me to come back in 20 minutes.
Wandering the place, we came upon the shell that once held Lord & Taylor. Never a department store that re sonated with me, neither the Cleveland institutions of my youth, Higbee'due south, Halle's, The May Company, nor the apex of Chicago shopping, Marshall Field's, nor its competitor, though I thought of it more as a handmaide n, a subordinate, Carson, Pirie, Scott.
It was rather in the realm of stores from other cities—Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus—that had outposts here. There was something feminine nigh Lord & Taylor. A women'due south shop that too sold men'due south clothing.
So it wasn't with grief that I stepped into the void where Lord & Taylor used to be. Rather ... a disassociation. Something less than shock, more than indifference. A tranquillity hmm, oh yes, all these big department stores are going away. A whiff of exploration, of stepping foot on another planet, of realization, discovery. This was happening while those boxes were piling up on the front porch. Those were the death of this, hastened past the COVID virus. I went shopping at exactly one clothing shop over the past 18 months, just recently, a Father's Solar day visit to L.L. Bean in Onetime Orchard. Honestly, it'due south hard to imagine existence in a situation where a plaid shirt won't do. I still take my tux, but if I had to put information technology on to appear at the fancy Neil Steinberg Tribute and Award Dinner at the Drake ballroom, I'd think twice almost going to the fuss. Why bother? Who'd care anymore? Who could maybe care? All that seems and so long ago.