All We Want for Christmas Is a Parking Space. . . : Taking a Mauling--and Liking It

It’s not entirely clear when shopping was invented, although some biblical scholars date it to the Garden of Eden.

According to some versions, Adam looked around the garden and said, “I like it,” not realizing that at that very instant Eve was casting about for a nice wicker chair.

But even if the origins of shopping can’t be verified, there is no doubt that it’s been refined over the centuries until it has reached its perfect point of execution.

Orange County, salute thyself. When it comes to shopping, nobody does it better.

Anyplace that offers valet parking for baby strollers--as South Coast Plaza is doing this holiday season at a new Sesame Street kiddie store--is a step ahead of the rest.

So naturally, we feel a bit of a tingle today, because the day after Thanksgiving is the traditional start of the holiday shopping season.

It’s our own version of the running of the bulls at Pamplona, a festive occasion where our passions begin gurgling, only to reach a full-fledged torrent by Christmas Eve. And just as in Spain, if a few people get trampled or gored along the way, tough nuggies. This is not a festival for sissies.

Today is recognized as the biggest shopping day of the year. In other words, after warming up for more than 11 months (in what could be considered the “exhibition season” of shopping), today the shopping playoffs begin.

At South Coast, for example, which claims to be number one in the nation in annual revenues, about 28% of the annual business comes in November and December. And this is an operation that did $733 million in revenue last year.

As a relative outsider to the ways of Orange County, I took a while to understand the shopping thing. In the Midwest, where I grew up, Christmas shopping was right up there with mowing the lawn in the middle of mosquito season--something you had to do, all the while knowing it was going to put you in a bad mood.

First, it was always cold. Second, the roads were always bad. Third, there was never any parking. Fourth, they were always running out of gift wrap. But that’s another story.

So, like many East Coast and Midwest emigrants, I packed up my old kit bag and came west. It isn’t widely known, but most people who move to Orange County from other parts of the country list “wanted a more meaningful shopping experience” as their primary motivator, just ahead of “looking for a nice place to raise children” and “career opportunities.”

My sister and her husband, who live in St. Louis, came out for a visit in February. I went to the carwash, filled up the buggy with gas and asked them where they wanted to go, suggesting either north to Malibu or south to San Diego.

My sister suggested South Coast Plaza. She and her husband are the happiest couple I know, and that day I learned why: My brother-in-law agreed to go to the mall. I bade him farewell and Godspeed, muttered something like “you poor guy” and stayed home to watch TV. They came home five hours later, giddy from the experience, as if they’d just seen the sun set from a balcony in Cannes. I was half-expecting my sister to show slides.

The love affair with malls out here is probably rooted in some very fundamental human behavioral traits. I asked Susan Maples, who works for South Coast Plaza, just what those might be.

In Southern California, “and maybe even more so in Orange County,” she said, perhaps “it’s sort of a frontier spirit we all have, but we’re willing to try new things. We’re willing to look at new retail, exciting retail.”

Is it all about money, I asked, trying not to sound cynical. “I think it’s more an interest in fashion and quality and cutting-edge retail,” she said.

Some sociologists say that suburban malls have replaced Main Street and are where people go not only to conduct business but also to chat with other people.

I’ve never chatted with anyone at a mall, but that’s probably just me. Being alienated and disaffected affects different people in different ways.

Oh, well. There you have it. There’s not much more to say.

This is our big day. We’ve waited all year for this. It’s what we do. It’s who we are.

Let’s go get ‘em.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.