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Over the last century, multiple forms of shopping culture have come and gone in America, private entrepreneurs and craftsmen who maintained mom & pop shops in Colonial days gave way to dry goods & mercantile establishments which came as Manifest Destiny drove Americans across the continent, the general store was de rigor in small town America, as waves of immigrants and imports arrived on our shores, the emporium rose along with the new middle class, the grand and glamorous department store followed in importance and ruled the retail roost for decades, then boutiques style specialty stores were added into the mix, malls replaced Main Street, USA, as Americans moved to the suburbs, with the advent of the automobile and highways, came the strip mall, and the enclosed mall, and then the entertainment complex, where shopping, movie Cineplex’s, amusement parks and restaurants were destination sites, and today we enjoy the Internet, ushering in the global marketplace. We are constantly re-acclimating to new forms of evolutionary shopping.
Now, perhaps a shopping anomaly, a medieval village practically unchanged, still functioning without interruption for over 700 years has plenty to offer us. I am not a time traveler, I am in Rhodes, Greece. I am in a beautiful restored medieval village. I spent the day documenting much of what I saw. If there is something to say for continuity, one is ever cognizant of history and the timeless allure and need for shopping.
Q: When is a door not a door? A: When it is a jar. The same hold true for shoe risers. When is a shoe riser, not a shoe riser? When it is a staircase. Case in point was this pragmatic retailer. When I first passed this storefront, I thought that the faux stone staircase in the window was a bit cheesy. It looked like a bad Styrofoam prop, even the simulated stone finish did not ring true. Upon second glance (I leave no stone unturned) I realized that the shoe riser was actually crafted out of carved rock. It was genuine patinated limestone. Odd, I thought. It must have weighed a ton. How, I pondered, did they ever manage to get it into the store? The store owner told me it was there when he moved in, years ago. In fact, it was not a shoe riser at all, but was the remnant of the original stone staircase from the 14th century. The store was built around it. He apologized for its decay, noting it had collapsed during the last earthquake. I had not heard about any recent calamities, so the shop owner reported that the earthquake was about 5 or 6 centuries ago, “No one got around to fixing it yet”. That might seem ludicrous, however it did take eight centuries to dismantle the Colossus. Greeks aren’t known for their haste. Jeri-rigged, necessity being the mother of invention, shop owners for centuries merely worked around it. Creating a poetic homage to what once was. A telling statement of the importance of honoring and reaffirming the past. P.S. I love the way the doorknob was used to merchandise their handbags
It looks Greek to me, advertising in marble. Ads come and go very quickly these days. Advertising is ephemeral, a temporal medium, but that was not always so. At one time merchants had their name, and contact info chiseled out of marble and hung it above the lintel. Today retailers connect their product to celebrities to reinforce their cache. In medieval times, shop owners were equally proud to let customers know that they were shoemakers to the king, or that they had an august lineage. Its permanence reflected on the culture, as sons almost always followed in the fathers footsteps. Families did not move, they stayed put, as evidenced in this heraldic sign still displayed outside this shop. Even travelers that couldn’t read, could manage to decipher the symbols. Periodically marble slabs were removed when genetic lines ceased to be, when plagues, or wars wiped out the residents. Still the beautiful frames remain prompting us to wonder what did exist here.
Shops by and large were/are small, narrow spaces, economical, and better goods were/are laid out in front to beckon potential buyers, whether it be the freshest fish, or the latest in sandals. Shop owners hung outside, socialized with each other, watched out for their neighbors. They were a part of the community, unlike today’s vendors who are isolated, and seldom engaged with their colleagues next door. Families lived in the back, or just above the shops, so the selling endeavor was familial. Cats, are not usually kept as house pets, they too belong to the community. They are fed by everyone, and seldom chased out of stores. They keep the rodent population in check. They are social, and like being petted. Animals have a place, they too belong. Long before the advent of automotive traffic, there was no need for the safety of sidewalks, shops façades were right on the street, which created a cozy, almost womb like environment. Life came right to your door. We are now separated by vacuous parking lots. Many vendors, blacksmiths, copper and tinsmiths, seamstress’, potters, rug makers, butchers, bakers and candlestick makers produced product right on site, and still do. Craft is a valued commodity. While most product, even in today’s medieval village are imported, it is not unusual to see a rug being made.
In today’s modern mall the delineation between the hierarchy of retailers and food service merchants is clearly defined, the way the Patricians delineated themselves from the Plebeians, alas, not much has changed. Fast food retailers are remanded to the infamous “food court” (court, a medieval phrase if ever there was one) which in most instances is on the upper most tier of the mall, squired, (another medieval phrase) away from the hoi-polloi of “real” retailers. Only a periodic Mrs. Fields, or Cinnabon might manage to muscle themselves between the madness of Mandee’s and the Gap. However, in the medieval village, taverns, restaurants, and patisserie's are dotted throughout the neighborhood. They are integrated as equal partners, and into the culture of the street.
The church and spirituality was a part of daily life in medieval times. The Catholic Church in particular helped organized the European community, which is why I found it fascinating to see busy shoppers stop, pause, reflect, and pray at any number of shrines, chapels, mosques, catacombs, and churches. There is a need for the elevation and nourishment of the soul. On
In the medieval village, there seldom is music, or even soundtracks. Lacking that sophistication there are benefits, and deficits. The benefits are that there is quiet, periodical silence. You can almost hear yourself think without distraction, or the barrage of subliminal associations. Most stores are dimly lit, relying primarily on sunlight, the front windows always coaxing light indoors. It clear again that the store is reliant on the natural environment. It’s the medieval version of “Green”. While for the most part there is fixed pricing, one can haggle. Due to comparison shopping online, and the popularity of auction sites like eBay customers are interacting and demanding “sweetheart deals”. In the medieval village you can bargain. Lacking slick Madison Avenue style demographics, and state of the art marketing ploys most stores cater to the broadest demographic, not the narrowest. Brilliant! It is rare that you see a person in their teens or twenties charged with the responsibility of sales, that privilege, indeed that is how it is perceived, goes to the store owner, who is proprietary, and considers their time an investment in providing the best customer service.
