Goodbye Dayton's, er Marshall Fields, er, Macy's.
You would think I'd be used to saying goodbye to those buildings and businesses that have been a part of the landscape that is my life. Having grown up in Minneapolis, I often find myself envisioning those once-upon-a-time places. The pending closure of Macy's, aka Dayton's downtown, has me reeling.
I remember when the building — save for three floors — was filled to the rafters. A pet store on the eighth floor — a fully-stocked drugstore in the basement, where my mother bought mothballs. Dayton's bargain basement was probably the humble beginning of what became Target. In the fifth-floor children's shoe department, you climbed a special ladder where "experts" checked for the perfect fit.
Going downtown was exciting. I wore my best dress and white gloves to eat in the Skyroom on the 12th floor with my grandmother and mother. Creamed chicken on mashed potatoes — the Little Miss Muffet — was for girls; boys had the Little Boy Blue — a hamburger and fries. Women were not permitted to dine in the Oak Grill unless accompanied by a male, making it special and sexist at the same time — only that wasn't something we talked about back in the '60s. It took me years to be comfortable wearing jeans downtown!
And who doesn't remember Dayton's big sales — Daisy in June, Jubilee in October, along with the less-exciting Anniversary Sale. Every fall, we were excited to hear what theme would transform the eighth-floor auditorium. The Spring Flower Show was a must-see.
There wasn't anything you couldn't buy at Dayton's. The furniture department took up the entire seventh floor. Dayton's carried record albums, TVs and radios. I bought my first computer at Dayton's. When I got engaged in 1973, my mother and I headed to the bridal department on the sixth floor. The registries were updated by hand.
I remember my grandmothers — neither drove — taking the bus downtown every week to get their hair done and to shop at Dayton's. Like them, I never lost that love and attachment to the downtown store — even when Dayton's stores opened closer to home.
Come holiday time, I dragged my kids to the Velveteen Rabbit and Willy Wonka displays — despite the fact we don't celebrate Christmas. With the advent of Holidazzle, I took my 5-year-old daughter, Amy, to dinner in the Oak Grill (we no longer needed a male escort). It became our tradition. Amy is now 27 and that Oak Grill visit became lunch the day after Thanksgiving. This past summer, Amy's childhood dream came true — her wedding shower was held in the restaurant.
