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TIMES STAFF WRITER

Like ohmigod like totally Encino is like so bitchen. There’s like the Galleria and like all those like really great shoe stores.

“Valley Girl”

For the record:

12:00 a.m. Feb. 26, 1999 For the Record
Los Angeles Times Friday February 26, 1999 Valley Edition Metro Part B Page 3 Zones Desk 2 inches; 52 words Type of Material: Correction
Galleria--A story Wednesday about the closing of a department store at the Sherman Oaks Galleria incorrectly described Charlene Andersson, a Valencia resident, as a former Valley girl. In fact, she grew up on the East Coast and has never lived in the Valley. Further, a quote about 50% discounts at the mall’s Robinsons-May store was incorrectly attributed to Andersson.

Frank and Moon Unit Zappa

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“Oh, my God,” said former Valley girl Charlene Andersson, almost reverently as an escalator deposited her Tuesday on the second floor of Robinsons-May in the Sherman Oaks Galleria.

“Ten years ago, I used to push my kids in strollers through here.”

Back then, the glass display cases, lined up row after row, were stocked with merchandise, and shiny metal racks held dresses, suits, coats and blouses. But now, the cases stood empty, with only a sparse selection of purses and other items scattered on top, flea market-style. Many of the racks had been herded in groups against walls with yellow tape around them, as though they were part of a police investigation scene.

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The mall’s two Robinsons-May stores are closing, and with their passing will go the last vestiges of what was once a Valley cultural icon. The Sherman Oaks Galleria, celebrated in the 1982 song as the, like, spiritual center of all things Valley Girl, will be reborn as an office center, with movie theaters and a few upscale shops and restaurants.

Andersson and a few dozen other shoppers were roaming the nearly empty stores (women’s clothing and household items in the north store, men’s clothes and furniture in the south) on Tuesday, Day 4 of the liquidation sale. The doors close for good next Tuesday.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” asked Andersson, taking a few tentative steps toward the displays. “It’s the end of an era.”

But then she spotted a red sign above one of the cases, and her mood lifted. “50% off everything!” Andersson declared. “I got to go see if I can get a sewing machine for my son.”

Contemplation of the demise of a cultural icon could wait, there were bargains to be had for the offspring of the “bitchen” Valley Girl generation.

Already at the sewing machines was Diane Schweitzer, 36, with boyfriend Richard Moster, 39. She has picked out a Singer that was originally $249.99, marked down to $125. “I’m going to make curtains,” she explained. “We’re moving in together. I’m looking for a coffeepot and stir-fryer, too.”

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Although Andersson and Schweitzer had never before met, they started chatting like old friends. “You make such a cute couple,” Andersson said, approvingly. “You can shop for your new home.”

Although Schweitzer lives in the area, she had seldom shopped at the Galleria. Moster, a software engineer who works nearby for a computer animation firm, said he wandered over occasionally for lunch.

“We would come to the food court because it was close,” he said, “but the stores have been moving out.”

The reasons behind the decline and fall of the Galleria, which was probably the most famous shopping mall in the world in the early 1980s, was a topic of conversation among the bargain hunters.

“Before the earthquake, everyone used to come and hang out here and nobody went to the Fashion Square,” said Leslie Rodriquez, while looking through purses. She grew up in Sherman Oaks and was a member of the last generation to regularly hang out at the Galleria--although, at 22, she was too young to know the song.

The Galleria, at Ventura Boulevard and Sepulveda boulevards, badly damaged by the 1994 Northridge earthquake, had other problems as well, including a less-than-beloved make-over, the recession of the early 1990s and the merger of the J.W. Robinson’s and May Co. stores, which left the mall with only one major department store chain.

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Meanwhile, Fashion Square Sherman Oaks, on Riverside Drive at Woodman Avenue, brought in Bloomingdale’s to join its anchor, Macy’s, and other popular shops.

“It became just the opposite,” Rodriquez said. “Everyone went to Fashion Square and no one went to the Galleria.”

The Galleria’s success also may have eventually contributed to its demise. Its popularity led in the 1980s to increased development in the surrounding area.

“It’s a headache to get in and out of here, it’s so congested,” said Edna McCormack, 72.

McCormack had been living in Studio City for 40 years, but this was her first time in the Galleria. “The parking situation is terrible, just like people told me. But for these prices . . . “

In the end, Andersson got the $125 sewing machine for her 13-year-old son. “He loves sewing,” she said, “but he’s also an athlete.”

Schweitzer and Moster ended up getting only one item for their new home--the sewing machine--but they found other bargains: five pairs of shoes, a Walkman, an umbrella and a wallet. “I’m still thinking about a piece of furniture I saw,” Schweitzer said, smiling.

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It was hard to find any down-hearted shoppers on this bargain day. But over in appliances, Nahid Hyde of Granada Hills looked close to tears. “I have been to the Fashion Square,” she said. “Too big, too crowded, too impersonal.

“Here I know my way around, I know the people. It’s the place I like to come to shop.” Hyde picked up a toaster, but found little joy in its half-off price.

“Life,” she said with a sigh, “just has to go on.”

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