Mother's Day Shopping

Remembering Mom and a Day of Old Fashioned Shopping

May 09, 2021

It’s Mother’s Day, so I’ve been thinking about my mom.

I’ve had my shots, the double dose, and I’ve waited the requisite two-plus weeks, so now I’ve begun tip-toeing back into some pre-Covid “normal” activities, albeit with a double dose of caution, too.

I am tired of my clothes. I feel like I’ve worn my same favorite casual clothes over and over and over, and frankly, I’m real tired of them. I decided I wanted to go shopping for a new top, just one new fresh summer t-shirt to brighten up my wardrobe. So, I drove into town, donned my mask, and went into McCaulou’s, the local department store—my first time in a store of any kind (other than a recent dash into the market) in a over a year.

It felt like a real adventure, and I found I was rather rusty at the art of shopping!

I kept it short the first time. And I didn’t try anything on. I wasn’t quite ready for that level of adventure just yet. But I did wander around and check out all the racks, flipping through the hangers, holding up cute things for a closer look, checking price tags and laundry tags.

Maybe because it’s almost Mother’s Day, and I had Mom on my mind. Up popped a delightful “shopping with Mom” memory from an age when shopping was a different kind of experience.

Back in the Fifties and Sixties, my mom, Louise, and her best friend, Dottie, used to love their monthly shopping excursions. They’d wear their Sunday-best outfits—tailored dresses with matching heels and pocketbooks, and of course, hats and gloves. They’d drive down to the “big city” to one of the magnificent, expansive, old department stores. In Los Angeles, that meant Bullock’s Downtown or Bullock’s Wilshire, both of which had fancy Tea Rooms that featured frequent midday fashion shows.

I think I was about seven when I was first invited to join the ladies on their special outing. I wore my fancy Easter dress, my white patent leather shoes, a pretty hat with a flower on it, and white gloves. It would have been 1961-ish, and I think we were at Bullock’s Wilshire.

Original Art Deco Bullock’s Wilshire Building in Los Angeles, built in 1929, now houses Southwestern Law School.

We took the big golden elevator up to the top floor and were seated at a flower-bedecked, white-cloth-covered table in the middle of the Tea Room. At each table were seated well-dressed, beautifully coiffed women of all ages, though I think I was the only “little girl.” I was definitely “minding my manners.”

The waitress brought us beverages (iced tea for the grownups and milk for me) and a tiered tray of tiny finger sandwiches. And then the fun began! I pulled off my gloves and Mommy kept them safe for me alongside her own. There were tiny cucumber sandwiches on crust-less white-bread squares (I remember the crunch!) and cheese sandwiches on crust-less brown-bread triangles. Being a picky eater as a child, I didn’t test any of the other pretty sandwich choices, and probably had to be encouraged to eat the ones I did.

While we daintily nibbled and sipped, the fashion show began. First one tall slender woman, then another, slipped into the room from a side door. Each walked slowly through the room, pausing at each table to describe her outfit—the designer, the style, the fabrics, and how it fit into the season’s color palette. If asked, the model would spin slowly or open a jacket or offer a sleeve or skirt to be touched, and of course, answer questions. There was a parade of outfits for all occasions, from casual daytime wear to fancy evening wear, and matching accessories galore.

I can’t remember if there was a woman acting as mistress-of-ceremonies, who described the clothes as the models walked into the room or as they stopped beside her. I cannot remember if Mom and Dottie had programs or “scorecards” to keep track of the outfits they liked and might want to try on after lunch. I was so enthralled with all that was going on around me, so focused on “minding my manners,” that those details have slipped away.

Dessert was served as the last grouping of outfits was being displayed. I remember tiny pies, fruit tarts no doubt, and a cookie for me. The ladies sipped coffee, and I was served a tiny white china pot of tea.

I must have passed the test, because that grownup outing became a regular seasonal event with Mom and Dottie. I’m sure they went more often, but they took me along several times a year.

Shopping isn’t what it used to be.

Bullock’s no longer exists. Like most of the famous old-fashioned regional department stores they’ve been displace by malls, which themselves are now on the decline.

Dottie Hocker and Louise Nebergall circa 1942

Best friends to the end, Mom and Dottie are both gone, too, just in the last few years.

Louise Nebergall Griffin, my mother, circa 2010

During my own recent post-vaccine shopping adventure, there was no fashion show, no attendants to find the perfect outfit for me and assist my every need. I was on my own to walk around and between the displays. To read the tags to discover the fabric content. To match the colors. And to determine the season’s new (or old) fashion trends.

I had to relearn the social process of choosing and purchasing a new shirt. It was somewhat familiar, but also a little odd, what with Plexiglas screens and hand sanitizer at the one main counter and a near-empty store. But the trip was a success! In and out in twenty minutes, I came home with a cute black-and-white faux tie-dyed t-shirt that just suited me. I shall be wearing it on Mother’s Day for a Zoom visit with my son, Dean, and his girlfriend, Marta, on the far coast.

Happy Mother’s Day!!

Do you have a fun “shopping with Mom” memory?

Is there an extinct department store you remember with fondness?

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