Twirly dresses and Plush Baby Changing Rooms

I have to admit, on Saturday, when I felt like all of my week had either been spent looking after my son or working on my diss chapter, I hopped on a bus to Westfield East, the new shopping mall built for the Olympics. It was my third trip there, and the first one that I can't explain away as either necessary shopping or entertainment for my son. The mall is brand new, and its marble floors and sheets of glass shine as only something highly polished and barely used can. The ceilings are high, very high, there's lots of natural light, and scattered throughout the mall are faux living rooms, couches and chairs arranged to look like the perfect setting for cozy chats with friends, but instead put people in the awkward position of having to sit facing strangers.

I hated how antiseptic and cultureless it felt the first time we walked through the doors. The ceilings were so high I felt a bit dizzy, and the opulence was nauseating, especially after the bus ride. Stratford, the part of London holding the Olympics, is a deprived area of the city, and the games have been touted as a kind of revitalization of the area. I have no idea how effective this has been, but what I do know is that as you approach the Olympic building site, you can see in the distance construction work on all of these shiny new buildings, the oversized stadiums and the in-progress high rises that surround them, but in the foreground are desolate and dingy streets, seemingly untouched by Olympic money. The existing high street looks like a rundown version of our local shopping streets in Walthamstow, only much less crowded, perhaps having lost business to the new mall. The mall is part of a building project called Stratford City, and it has been plopped into an existing neighborhood and then sealed off from the community. So much so that the area is completely fenced off and my bus has to go through a security checkpoint to get in. Contained in Stratford City is the Stratford International Station, with great links into London, and, because of the high speed rail, quick connections to continental Europe, too. I think the idea is that you can live in a brand new high rise, with a shopping mall, complete with grocery stores and a faux high street, at your door. It doesn't matter if the surrounding area is impoverished, unless your view happens to overlook it, because you can hop on a train to more savory parts of the world without ever having to step into the less glamorous parts of Stratford. But, don't think I'm too damning, after all, on a sunny weekend day, I chose to head there, with no child or husband in tow and no shopping that urgently needed to be done.

At first it was the convenience of Westfield East that won me over. It's very close, a four or five mile bus ride away, but more importantly, I've never been to any public space so well laid out for parents and young children. At you enter, they'll rent you a stroller in the shape of a car, so that your child can pretend to drive from store to store. The baby changing tables are in large rooms, with a TV playing children's shows, a fenced-in small play area, high chairs, microwaves, and private breastfeeding cubicles. In addition, there are two very nice play areas in the mall, one of which is for soft play, and all the plastic-coated foam shapes are still in pristine condition. On a cold and rainy weekend morning, it's almost like having an under-fives amusement park around the corner. But, after a couple trips with my family, and having to prioritize presents, playing and naps, I decided that I wanted to shop for myself, and to actually try on the clothes that caught my eye. So I brought the front section of the Saturday Guardian, hopped on the bus and headed out.

The most indulgent part of my morning was in John Lewis, trying on a dress that I couldn't afford. It turns out that it ran big, and the size I brought into the dressing room swam on me, so I buzzed and asked for a smaller size. She asked me if she could bring shoes and a jacket to go with it. I tried on the whole outfit and twirled in front of the mirror. It was definitely a twirling dress.

I spent the rest of the morning browsing and occasionally trying on clothes that were lackluster in comparison to that dress, then I had lunch in the upscale “world” food court before heading home. The international flavor of east London is not ignored in Westfield East – it's translated into shopping mall terms. Ethnic food you might find on our high street is cleaned up, westernized and served by Westfield. So my neighbor doesn't own the shop - s/he just works there. I have to tell you that I didn't notice any stores selling saris, or shops that specialize in headscarves, but, true to east London, I did see headscarves on some of the store clerks and customers. I even saw a couple of women shopping in burqas. After all, no one has moved into the high rises yet, and so the crowded mall is primarily filled with my neighbors, from all their various racial, ethnic and religious backgrounds.

I am uncertain about whether or not the community of Stratford will benefit from Westfield East. I fear that it hurts rather than helps the existing shopping streets in the area. It also seems hell bent on setting up a very clear dividing line between the haves and the have nots. It could be evil, but such a comfortable evil, with twirly dresses and plush baby changing rooms.