It’s a Mall World After All

It is almost 4 p.m. on a hot afternoon. The sun is harsh. You’d think people would be snapping up sunglasses at $14 a pop. But Mike Stickney’s ledger tells another story: four sales all day.

Stickney, 24, works at one of those ubiquitous boutiques on wheels that dot area shopping malls. Sometimes he’s at Hollywood & Highland. Today he’s at Paseo Colorado in Pasadena, the open-air, Mediterranean-inspired center a few blocks east of Old Town that replaced the much-maligned, dark-brick behemoth Plaza Pasadena.

“It’s been slow,” he says, setting down his Tolkien paperback. Weekends aren’t much better. “I think L.A. has too many malls,” he offers. “They flooded the market.”

Nor is the economy helping the sunglasses trade. Despite a few recent uplifting swings, consumers are still keeping their pocketbooks shut. Many go to malls with little intention of buying, resisting the seemingly irresistible: a pair of Banana Republic denim cargo shorts, for example, discounted from $45 to $9.99. Going to the mall has become an all-take, no-give, fun-for-the-entire-family free activity, like an afternoon at the beach or the park. Show me what you’ve got and I’ll maybe show you the money at some future date, when the economy’s a bit more sunny.

California leads the nation in terms of mall square footage, with Florida a distant second. And if bigger is better, we’re ahead there too, with three of the 10 largest malls in the country right here in Southern California, according to the International Council of Shopping Centers. (Del Amo Fashion Center, Lakewood Center Mall and South Coast Plaza, for those keeping score.)

To get a sense of our mall mania, start at the beach and head east, and there’s Santa Monica Place and Third Street Promenade, Westfield Shoppingtown Fox Hills, the Promenade at Howard Hughes Center, the Westside Pavilion, Westfield Shoppingtown Century City, the Beverly Center, the Grove, Hollywood & Highland, Paseo Colorado, the Glendale Galleria, plus the Calabasas Commons, the Sherman Oaks Galleria, Fashion Square, Del Amo Fashion Center, the Galleria at South Bay. And this list doesn’t include the many Beverly Connection-style strip malls scattered around Southern California.

The trick for Angelenos is knowing how to best use this largess, to mall intelligently. And no, that’s not an oxymoron. Do you want a Macy’s or a manicure, or both? A movie or a toy store? A greasy burger or a steak? Do you want to scope chicks? Indoors or outdoors? (While outdoors is the current trend, in Sherman Oaks in August, refrigerated Fashion Square has special appeal.) Do you want an experience?

“Experience,” according to Tim Magill of the Jerde Partnership, a Los Angeles-based architecture and urban design firm whose projects have included Universal Citywalk, San Diego’s Horton Plaza and Fashion Island in Newport Beach, is the buzzword of the day in mall concepts. It is what distinguishes newcomers like the Grove from malls like the Beverly Center, which at 20 now seems oddly quaint, practically vintage.

The vast majority of people dig the experiential onslaught, the Imax-ing of the mall experience. Plain-wrapped life is clearly not enough. Over and over in conversation, people name the Grove their favorite among the rookie malls. “The Grove has every bell and whistle you can jam into a project,” says Magill, including a dancing fountain and a working, life-size, double-decker trolley to convey patrons from one end of the two-block center to the other--perhaps the ultimate symbol of Angelenos’ allergy to perambulation. “It’s the Christmas tree of retail,” says Magill. “It’s got a lot of trim.”

If all this sounds a bit Disneyland-ish, it is. And not everyone is eager to don mouse ears. Some prefer their shopping unadulterated. Generally, this is the same group that resents those television screens in the supermarket checkout line and occasionally envies the Amish. Call them purists. Call them old-fashioned. Call them curmudgeonly. In any case, you aren’t likely to find these folks at the Grove, or Hollywood & Highland for that matter. If you did, they’d look, well, shellshocked.

“I like everything about it,” says 12-year-old Amir Gholizadeh of the Grove, as the shiny green trolley, packed with parents and children, passes by. “It’s big like a city. It has nice shops and nice transportation. It’s clean. You get to enjoy the fresh air and see birds. Inside the Beverly Center, you can’t really enjoy the day. I like this more than any other mall.”

Gholizadeh and his mom are such fans, in fact, that today they have brought their house guests from Kansas. “We wanted to show them what L.A. is and all the nice things that are here, like Ripley’s Believe It or Not,” he says.

It isn’t only kids enjoying what Magill, with professional appreciation, calls “a thematic Beverly Hills.” Los Angeles’ usually harried adult populace seems a bit more at ease here. People look happy wandering the winding walkways, past stained-glass streetlights and Easter-colored facades that are neither French nor Spanish but a low-volume Every Europe.

“It’s that sanitized feel. But it reminds me of my childhood,” says Bill Gucwa, 38, a writer from Sherman Oaks, parked on a bench outside Anthropologie while his girlfriend browses inside. “I like this place, but I’m almost ashamed to admit it. It’s a strange appeal. Maybe it’s a fantasy.” It’s also the “mix,” the combination of stores and restaurants and how they are laid out.

“The mix is very important,” says Margaret Crawford of Harvard University’s urban planning department. “It is fundamental to attracting the right demographic.” It is fundamental to attracting anyone at all.

Paseo Colorado for example, while a nice shell, designed to harmonize with the older surrounding buildings, has a so-so mix that includes fuddy-duddy boutiques like the Yankee Candle Company and Harry & David, and that helps to explain the quiet. (No one goes to the mall for Pepper & Onion Relish.) Yes, there’s a Macy’s, a Border Grill and a P.F. Chang’s Chinese Bistro. But there’s no Banana Republic, no Gap, no Pottery Barn. It’s like Playboy without the centerfold. And handsome planters and decorative fountains, particularly those that aren’t working half the time, can’t make up for this deficiency. Nor is it easy to woo people away from nearby Old Town, which is more or less a mall disguised as a street.

One strategy is to deliver a tightly focused mix. At the brand-new Costa Mesa center called the Camp, where the theme is nature and the great outdoors (arguably the most unlikely mall theme ever), every tenant, from A16 to Billabong, has an active or outdoorsy slant. (They even pipe in the Zen sounds of wind, waves and chirping birds throughout the center.) The more common tactic, however, is to hit ‘em with the familiar favorites.

The Grove--designed by Dave Williams, senior vice president of architecture for the mall’s developer Caruso Affiliated Holdings--has a Banana Republic, a Gap that Gucwa proclaims the mother of all Gaps, and a Pottery Barn Kids as well as a Nordstrom and the largest Barnes & Noble in all of California. To a mall junkie, this is some good stuff. To a mall developer too. “Every mall in the world wants these stores,” says Magill. That said, the Grove isn’t everyone’s first choice for hard-core shopping.

“If I wanted to hang out, I’d go to the Grove,” says Erika Esbensen, a 34-year-old financial analyst. “If I wanted to go shopping, I’d go to Fashion Square.”

“If you’re a serious shopper, the Grove is too small,” concurs her friend and colleague, Elizabeth Cho, 30.

On this day, Esbensen and Cho, dismissed from their Glendale office due to a bomb scare, are lunching at the Sherman Oaks Galleria, which unveiled it’s renovated self last summer.

The Galleria used to be a classic mall along the lines of the Beverly Center. A teenage girl’s dream, it was memorialized in songs like Moon Zappa’s “Valley Girl” and the movie “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”

Today, it’s an urban entertainment center, or UEC, to borrow from those in the business. The anchor is a multiplex theater, which is surrounded by a handful of restaurants and fast-food eateries that are heavily used by area office workers. In fact, the place resembles a giant corporate cafeteria around noon on a weekday, with many of the younger workers in particular sporting their necklace security badges while they lunch. (For the record, this is not a good look.) There’s also a gym and a Burke Williams spa and aisles and aisles of available parking spots, at least during the workday.

“I thought it was a shopping center,” says Brandy Brandshagen, 54, a social worker visiting from Guam who had wandered over from his nearby hotel in search of a belt, which he forgot to pack. Like others, Brandshagen took the escalators up to the top level of the central concourse, a sharp, modern, concrete structure, looking for that elusive store. Then he turned around and came back down. The visit wasn’t a complete wash, however. He had lunch at the Cheesecake Factory and picked up a Ravi Shankar CD at Tower Records.

The unfortunately named Promenade at Howard Hughes Center--it’s too long and confusing to boot, given Santa Monica’s established Third Street Promenade--is another one of these newfangled urban entertainment centers, though there’s a bit more retail at this complex along the 405 Freeway north of LAX, including a Nordstrom Rack, Borders Books and Music, as well as the requisite water element.

Perhaps the sound of water has a liberating effect on the pocketbook. The main draw, however, is the Bridge Cinema De Lux, which offers stadium-style seating.

“We mainly shop at the South Bay Galleria. But we hate that theater because there are too many people,” says Sylvia Hill of Los Angeles, a teacher taking in a movie and lunch with her graphic designer husband Richard in honor of their anniversary.

“The only time it was mobbed here was for ‘Star Wars.’ ” Hill, who is in her 40s, adds she likes the openness of the center, which is theme-free and done up in muted mauves and grays for an overall effect that is inoffensive but also forgettable.

Compare this with Hollywood & Highland. It’s like putting the school librarian next to Gwen Stefani. Hollywood & Highland is big and brash and loud and proud of it. It is very Vegas.

In Babylon Court, there’s a curious Egyptian motif. Two giant elephant sculptures tower overhead. Presumably the elephants are a nod to D.W. Griffith’s memorable set for the 1916 film “Intolerance,” but it feels more like Luxor leftovers. Rock music blares from the speakers. And every few feet, there’s a quote underfoot from an unnamed actor or producer. It’s a cute idea. But clearly the lawyers weren’t around when they made the decision to continue the quotes on the main stairway entering the court: reading + stairs = broken ankle = lawsuit.

The critics have had a field day. And no question: The place is not especially user-friendly. Stairways lead to nothing, and getting from A to B requires advanced algebra, or at the minimum, an instructional video. In technical terms, “the circulation armature is not conducive to seeing all the tenants,” offers Magill. Maybe this is why Build-A-Bear Workshop, a popular attraction that allows children to “build” a stuffed animal for about 35 bucks (talk about a do-it-yourself premium) has little bears and arrows pointing the way to their storefront.

In addition, says Magill, “the main conceit of the project is you ascend these stairs and see the Hollywood sign. But once you do that, it’s like, I’ve done that. Then people leave.”

Talk to actual users, though, and you’ll hear something different. “I love it,” says Anthony Montoya, a 20-year-old student from Sylmar checking out the place with three friends. “I usually go to the Glendale Galleria. But this has an artsy feel. And the people-watching is great.”

Tourists line up in front of the Kodak Theatre for snapshots. It’s not quite as good as spotting Pamela Anderson or Arnold and Maria. But it qualifies as a brush with celebrity for most. As for the shops, it’s a mixed bag. There’s Louis Vuitton and a Swarovski crystal boutique. The chichi Celine store, however, is already gone.

There’s also Hot Topic and Burger King. Either someone’s slumming or Eliza Doolittle is getting a new dress. But at least you can get a decent meal before catching whatever blockbuster is playing at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre next door. In addition to California Pizza Kitchen, there’s the Grill on Hollywood, sister to Beverly Hills’ Grill on the Alley, and a very chic Wolfgang Puck place called Vert.

Despite these new centers’ attempts to offer something beyond the latest in designer denim, some Angelenos remain adamantly anti-mall.

“I stay away from them,” says Mitch Moshe, a 25-year-old student from Thousand Oaks. “The stores are completely played out. I feel like a robot, like a sheep being herded to Old Navy.” Then again, he says, “There are a lot of good-looking women at the Grove.”

Some experiences are harder to resist than others.