The Delights of Shopping In-Person This Season

Celebrity sightings and fragrant blossoms can’t be replicated in the digital world.

Recently I noticed a sign celebrating Nordstrom’s 45th year in Costa Mesa. This made me reflect on how much retail has changed since I was the manager of Rizzoli International Bookstore at South Coast Plaza in 1988. In some ways, it made me nostalgic. It also reminded me of how versatile South Coast Plaza is, how it moves forward, providing a satisfying experience even in this digital age.

Rizzoli International Bookstore, with its emerald-green carpeting and bookshelves resembling glossy dark chocolate, is no longer in business in O.C., though its flagship still thrives on Broadway in Manhattan.

In the early ’90s, Orange County might not have been on the national radar, but South Coast Plaza had clout. My store was a draw for celebrity guest authors, and I had a front-row seat to events such as Martha Stewart’s in-person celebration of a new edition of “Martha Stewart’s Quick Cook.” She drew such a throng that stanchions were set up outside for crowd control. Inside, I was by her side and busily opening her books to the front page for her to inscribe.

While I was occupied with management duties, my friend Pam was in line with four neighbors, all residents of the same cul-de-sac in Huntington Beach. When they reached the front of the line, Pam introduced the group as “the girls from the ’hood.” Pam told me that Martha laughed and said something like, “Do you girls always do everything together?” Actually, no, but this was a chance to make waiting in line a social event. And taking a few moments to chat no doubt gave Martha a brief respite for her autographing hand.

My store also hosted an event for Julia Child around this time.

When I learned that Julia would come to the store to sign the latest edition of “The Way to Cook,” I knew my New York publicity department would pull out all the stops. The plan was for me to take Julia out for dinner. A food writer from the Orange County Register wanted to be part of the dinner party, too. (Hot ticket. Not to be missed!)

The place for a meal had to be close and fast, because a line of fans would snake along the front of the store. Across from the store and a few doors down was Pronto, the kind of place where you might stop for a quick bite then continue your quest for gifts or clothes.

When Julia arrived at the store with her publisher’s representative, I was as smitten in her presence as any of the fans queueing up. The four of us—Julia, the publisher’s rep, the food writer, and I—traipsed from the store to the restaurant. As soon as we walked through the door, several of the diners audibly gasped and a chorus of whispers said, “It’s Julia Child!” She smiled, acknowledging the wave of recognition.

We were seated and handed menus. Julia preferred to eat light. “I’ll have the minestrone,” she said in her characteristically high-pitched voice. After the meal, the manager dared to ask the celebrity diner if she had enjoyed the dish, to which Julia said, “It was delicious!” There would be no dessert, though, because we had to return to the store, passing the head of the long line as fans called out, “Julia!”

That night she greatly impressed me with her gracious, personal touch, as well as her vitality—already well into her 80s and signing hundreds of copies.

The peak moments of hosting famous authors contrasted with everyday retail rhythms: managing inventory, hiring and training staff, planning and reworking window displays. Holiday season meant a bustling store, lines at checkout, miles of green and gold wrapping paper for books that were ideal gifts.

In a rather embarrassing incident, I found out South Coast Plaza has a structural superpower. I was on the phone with my supervisor in the New York office when an earthquake hit. I shrieked into the phone, “John, it’s the big one!” and hung up. He soon called back, chuckling; he knew, as I did not, that the mall is specially designed to absorb impact. We were gently rolling to what might have been a 2 on the Richter scale.

Other surprising moments included the occasional stray songbird flying in. We waited until customers were gone, then turned off all the interior lights. We’d hear the bird chirp with joy then hightail it through the darkened space toward the light of the open door, like a moment of grace.

The most significant event for me at South Coast Plaza happened when I was taking an early dinner break, sitting alone, catching a quick sandwich at a cafe near the carousel. The place was nearly empty. A stranger sitting on a stool nearby initiated a conversation. He happened to be carrying a new purchase, a book inside a Rizzoli bag. We chatted and exchanged business cards. We were married five years later.

The bookstore is gone, but business appears to go with the flow. I’m glad to see how South Coast Plaza continues to thrive, appealing to customers’ desires. I recently learned that the concierge now provides customer assistance in more than 40 languages.

Across Bear Street, in the Home Wing, storefronts brim with possibilities from home decor to dining to technology at the Apple store. One of my favorite aspects is the Bridge of Gardens. Walking across its graceful span is like a quick vacation through manicured greenery and seasonal blooms. The bird’s-eye view adds another sensory pleasure, another reason for shopping in real life.

Many experiences can’t be replicated with virtual shopping: the satisfaction of hands-on browsing and incredible people-watching. And being able to try on the fashionable clothing options, of course.

The next generation appears to be rediscovering vinyl records and even books with pages that turn. In this digital era, touch is old, touch is new. It’s personal. And showing up “in person,” like back when my store hosted celebrity authors, is still a powerful draw.

Holiday season at South Coast Plaza stokes my retail nostalgia with a desire to be there early and often. I’ll stroll solo among fabulous decorations, then share the delight with a friend. I appreciate the effort taken for special window displays and search out perfect gifts, treating myself to the satisfaction of checking them off my list. I remain ever grateful for this magical destination.

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