Back when I was a young girl growing up in Houston, Texas my mother set aside Saturdays as shopping time. First, however, we had to do the weekly chores. My brothers worked on the lawn and Mama and I cleaned the house from one room to the next. Our incentive to work quickly and efficiently was based on the reality that we would not be able to leave to do our weekend shopping until our mother had deemed our efforts to be up to the standards of perfection that she required. Most of the time we would go to the local mall but the trips that we enjoyed the most involved going to downtown Houston to shop at Foley’s, a local department store that literally had everything imaginable under one roof.
Sometimes my mother and I would have our hair cut and styled in the salon there. We always went to a man named Mr. Peters who was an artist with scissors. I was never particularly impressed with what he did with my hair but he always made my mother look like a movie star. My brothers would sit at the entrance to the salon looking bored out of their minds. Sometimes they became a bit too rascally forcing my mother to give them the evil eye.
Next we went from floor to floor looking at the newest merchandise and deciding if there was anything that we needed at that moment. If we found something my mother would often take out her metal charge card that had her name and number embossed on the top. Most of the time she insisted on only purchasing things that she was able to afford in the moment. Somehow because of that we always ended up in the Foley’s basement where all of the bargains were housed.
If we had behaved nicely she would give each of us a dollar to use in case we found something that enchanted us. I recall buying things like a coin purse or maybe a cute pair of socks. One time I found a pair of gloves for the winter. The best investment came at the candy counter where sweet delights sat in class cases making our mouths water at the prospect of enjoying their sweetness. Other times I saved my dollar for the next visit when I might purchase something far nicer.
Of course Foley’s was a fantasy land at Christmas time. The windows in front of the store were festooned with toys that often ended up on our wish lists. Santa came back there year after year and we sat on his lap in awe of the fact that we were able to get close to the jolly old soul. We had to spit out our requests quickly because the lines were long and he wanted to spend time with every child.
When my father was still alive he often took me to the department store. We would head for the record section and listen to the 45 rpm music that he was considering to bring home. He would ask me what I liked best and often purchase the recording that had pleased me in the moment.
Of course our next stop would be the book section where he invariably found a new volume to bring home. One time he splurged and bought a set of two gorgeous books filled with fairy tales from the Brother Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen. He would read one of the stories to me each evening after he got home from work. I still have those books and they are treasures. After a time I liked those tales so much that I developed the incentive to read the stories myself.
The last time I accompanied my father to a department store he confided that he had put a special gift for my mother in the layaway, a system for buying and then paying without interest until the cost of the item was secured. He showed me the lamps that he had chosen for her birthday. He imagined them sitting on her dressing table providing light while she put on her makeup and combed her hair. When he died the lamps were still in the store with one more payment to make. I tearfully told my mother about the gift that he had wanted to give her and we made a special trip to secure the lovely items. I still have one of them in my guest room. The other one was accidentally knocked over years later and broke into a thousand pieces. I cried when I heard what had happened.
After my father died I don’t recall visiting the book section with my mother but sometimes I took that dollar that she gave me and used it to buy a 45 rpm record. I gave most of the ones I had to my daughter a few years ago and she still plays them now and again.
The nice thing about Foley’s back in the day is that they had a restaurant inside the store. On most of our trips we stopped there for an afternoon pick me up. I always felt elegant there because most of the time eating out meant grabbing a burger from Chuck Wagon or stopping for waffles at One A Meal.
After shopping we lugged our bags down Main Street to one of the movie theaters to watch whatever film was showing. The theaters were as lovely as the department store with gilded ceilings and velvet curtains hiding the screen until it was time for the show. Mama would give us a quarter for refreshments which was more than generous back then. I usually opted for some candy and popcorn and often had change to put in my piggy bank back home.
After the movie we travelled back home either in our own car or inside a city bus. It always felt as though we had experienced something magical with those downtown visits. Eventually Foley’s became Macy’s and one day the downtown store was closed permanently. That was a very sad day for me.
Those old department stores were glorious and the only time I have ever felt the same magic of my youthful Saturday adventures was in London when we visited Harrod’s and then went down to Selfridges which reminded my so much of the department stores of old. Many of them are gone but a few continue to attempt to prosper. One of my dreams is to visit Macy’s in downtown New York City at Christmas time one year. Now that my granddaughter is living there maybe I will finally make it happen.
