Frenetic Christmas Shoppers Race to Beat Clock
Evelyn Price sat slumped on a counter by the fine china at the Broadway in the Los Cerritos Center. Feeling weary and a little short of breath, the 81-year-old woman was taking a break from her Saturday shopping spree, having found one of the few places in the store to sit. “There aren’t many chairs anymore, believe me,” she sighed.
It was only 11 a.m.
Price was among the many thousands of last-minute shoppers attempting to do the near-impossible last weekend: take care of all their shopping in one fell swoop.
Armed with credit cards, they sounded the battle cry--”Charge it!”--and descended upon stores, tearing into neat displays of merchandise in a desperate search for the Perfect Gift Item.
Children’s Plaintive Wails
The cheerful beep-beep of electronic cash registers and the plaintive wails of children denied a new toy could be heard at malls and shopping centers throughout Los Angeles. Carbon monoxide permeated the parking lots, enough to make eyes water. And shoppers were forced to listen to “Jingle Bell Rock” more times in a day than most people hear in a lifetime.
Late Friday afternoon on Rodeo Drive the foot traffic was brisk, although some stores were empty. Actor Steve Guttenberg kept a saleswoman at Hammacher Schlemmer busy with his hefty gift list that included heated towel racks. “I’m on the road,” he explained to a friend. “I’ve got a lot to do.”
At Giorgio a perky blond saleswoman at the women’s fragrance counter was enumerating the hot items: “We’re selling a lot of those crates,” she said, pointing to a large wooden box filled with Giorgio perfumes and lotions. “Those are $225. We also have one for men and women that’s $265. We’re selling a lot of baskets (of fragrance), too. We had one that we’re completely sold out of now. It was a duck-shaped basket for $125. That was kind of a mid-range item so it sold well.”
The manager of the store, used to rattling off names of the rich and famous who shop there, was only too happy to oblige with a list of recent shoppers, including Jill Ireland, Altovise (Mrs. Sammy) Davis, Gloria (Mrs. Jimmy) Stewart, and Lydia (Mrs. Charlton) Heston.
“We get a lot of men coming in at the last minute,” she said. “About 85% of our last-minute shoppers are men. Guys love to wait to the last minute. They get in the mood and take off and shop. They want to top the wonderful gift they got last year.”
At Santa Monica Place, Kevin Sklarski sat at a table in the mall, sipping a soda, surrounded by bags that formed a little mountain around his leg. He had been at the shopping center since 3 p.m.
“My wife and I are flying to Rhode Island tomorrow,” he explained. “My wife had final exams so she didn’t have time to do it before. She’s been here since 9 a.m.”
Sandy Sklarski was in line at the Limited buying socks, her last purchase of the day. “It’s terrible,” she said of her shopping marathon. “I’ve spent maybe $350, $400. I feel exhausted. I can’t wait to get home. But then I have to pack. My legs are ready to give out. But isn’t this normal--spending 10 hours in the mall?”
Elsewhere parents pushed their packages in strollers and carried their kids; other shoppers wandered zombie-like from store to store.
At the Broadway, a saleswoman at the jewelry counter said the crowd that day had been fairly large. “But tomorrow,” she predicted, “is going to be scary .”
Parking at a Premium
The next day brought droves of people to area malls. At Los Cerritos Center traffic was backed up to the freeway and parking spots were at a premium. Still, once inside the stores the crowds seemed to diminish.
Some found it difficult to give up their weekend routine entirely; outside an electronics store a group of 10 men intently watched a football game, oblivious to the manic shoppers around them. The video arcade was crammed with teen-agers who slugged the machines with quarters and battled intergalactic space ships.
Meanwhile, Steve Black stood in line at the Broadway’s lingerie department, a couple of nightgowns slung over his arm. “This is the only time I had to do it,” he said, explaining his shopping delay. “If you care to follow me around you’ll probably see me spend a lot of money. I’ve been married for 14 years and this is the first time I’ve waited this long.”
Pete Lakoff, a San Diego college student home for the Christmas break, was handing over a wad of cash to the salesgirl at the Ralph Lauren fragrance counter. “I just got back Friday night and this is the first chance I’ve had to go shopping,” he said. “I’m one of seven in my family, so I have six gifts to get. I’ve just started. There’s no way I’ll get it all done today. I never go when I should, but I’ve never been this far behind.”
Fast-Talking Sellers
Later that afternoon Broadway Street in downtown Los Angeles was crammed with shoppers looking for discount clothes, radios and perfumes. They spilled out into the street, where fast-talking sellers hawked everything from yo-yos to musical Christmas cards, always keeping an eye out for police wanting to confiscate their merchandise.
Inside one store a little boy pointed to a Me and Mommy doll set and looked pleadingly at his mother.
“You’re crazy,” she said.
At an electronics store, customers haggled over the price of TV sets while music blared overhead. A salesman said business that day was “up 300%.”
Down the street a young woman scolded her nephew who was firing a cap gun. “It’s so hard shopping with them,” she said. “They want everything they see.”
Shukriyyah Hassan had parked her two-seater stroller on the sidewalk temporarily; in it were her two children, Shahanna and Yusuf, and bags of toys. “I shop here because everything is cheaper,” she said. “I don’t even go to the malls to shop. Today I bought some dolls, like this. This is called the Popcorn Kids--along the same lines as the Cabbage Patch dolls.
“I always wait until the last minute. I don’t know why. It’s a habit, I guess. But here you get caught up in the excitement of Christmas.”
By 9 p.m., with visions of credit card bills dancing in their heads, shoppers were still out in force at the Beverly Center. Well-dressed couples were in By Design snapping up the latest in household knickknacks. Beth Anne Jones, one of the saleswomen, explained what the desperate shoppers were coming in to buy.
Frantic Customers
“Woks. People come in and say, ‘Oh, great, a wok, let’s get them that.’ And we’ve sold a lot of coffee mugs with bags of coffee. And a lot of wine glasses. A lot of customers have been really frantic today.”
“And impatient,” added Holly Vega, another saleswoman.
“When they find something,” said Jones, “they look like they’re just so thankful. Some come in here with a list of 50 people; a lot shop for people in their office, and they don’t know them that well. One guy was buying an organizer for his new business partner. He said, ‘I’ve never met him, but he just got me a horse.’ ”
“Coffee,” said Vega. “That’s what I suggest for people with that desperate look on their face.”
At Bullock’s a number of determined people took advantage of the last 15 minutes of shopping. Joann Payne was loading wrapped boxes into shopping bags at the fragrance counter. “Today I’ve taken care of nine people,” she said. “And that’s all been at this one counter. It was great!” she said.
“It was good for me, too,” said the salesman with a conspiratorial wink.
Minutes later, as a voice over the public address system warned shoppers their time was almost up, a woman dashed into the store and up to the men’s cologne counter. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a bottle.
“It’s Armani,” he replied.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes,” he said, “it’s one of the few fragrances I wear.”
“Good,” she said. “I’ll take five.”
