“¿Quieres ir al Del Amo?”

A nostalgic journey through childhood, the sacred rituals of the mall, and the enduring bond with my great-grandmother, who taught me the art of sales racks.

My childhood was at times lonely and introspective. I was shy and usually had only one friend at a time. Much of my time was spent at my great-grandmother’s house—my Nana. She was a five-foot-tall Mexican immigrant named Josephina Hansel. She was my best friend.

My Great-Grandmother in Las Vegas (1980s)

Like many immigrants who grew up in poverty, Nana often bought more than she needed once she had the means. Her purchases were practical: blankets, pots, pans, and shoes—things she had likely gone without for much of her life. And the shoes—she had so many shoes.

Our days together revolved around one main activity: going to the mall. As I sat on the couch with my feet swinging in the air, watching PBS, she would call out:

“¿Quieres ir al Del Amo?”

“¡Sí!” I’d reply.

Our tastes couldn’t have been more different during those years. I was drawn to Limited Too, Build-A-Bear, and Old Navy, while her preferences leaned toward J. Jill, Ann Taylor, and Macy’s.

Without any explanation, she taught me the rules of shopping. I studied her carefully, what she pulled from the rack, what she didn’t. I’d watch as she quickly scanned the front sections of each store before making a deliberate beeline to the back, where the sale racks waited.

Our trips always followed the same pattern. First, we’d visit her stores, where she’d try on what seemed like endless variations of the same pair of drawstring trousers. Then it was my turn. I’d grab her hand and eagerly pull her toward the Limited Too girls’ sale section. Like her, I only shopped the sales. I’d glance wistfully at the beautiful new arrivals at the front of the store before heading to the back, where I’d carefully choose a small appropriately priced item for her to buy me.

Afterward, we’d make our way to the food court. I always got a Hot Dog on a Stick, while she opted for Chinese food.

Del Amo Fashion Center Food Court via Early 2000’s

Shopping was our pastime, our meditation, our church.

Eventually, I outgrew Limited Too and instead preferred to torture my nana in new and confusing ways. She’d scrunch her face as I tried on micro jean shorts from Hollister and then the tightest jeans ever made. Usually, we would forgo Hollister for PacSun as I remember them constantly having some insane deal that was either buy 1 get 3 free or buy 3 get 3 free, or some combination of the sort. Whatever it was, it was such a good deal that Nana would carefully read over the receipt with a grin and comment on how much money we saved. If she had been on the internet, she would have said something along the lines of “If we didn’t shop the sale we would be losing money, girl math!”

During high school, I would go to the mall with my friends, but it wasn’t the same. They didn’t understand the dedication and grit needed to spend ALL day at the mall. They didn’t have the arm strength to rifle through densely packed sale racks. They did not know how to stand their ground at the underwear bins during the infamous Victoria's Secret sales.

They wanted to gossip and take photos for Snapchat, I was here on serious business. The mall was sacred, not to be disrespected with the loitering my friends wanted to do.

Sometimes I would go to the mall twice in one weekend, not having gotten my fix with my friends. I found myself calling her on Sunday,

“Quieres ir al Del Amo?”

“Si!”

As I got older, the mall in true LA fashion, did not choose age gracefully. It got a face-lift and implants.

After a $160 million redevelopment, it transformed into the seventh-largest mall in the United States. They gutted the old Del Amo, replacing it with a sleek open-air section, bowling lanes, a state-of-the-art movie theater, and major retailers like Zara, Nordstrom, Uniqlo, and H&M. It was glamorous, modern, and unrecognizable.

In the wake of the mall's overhaul lay the remnants of many beloved stores: Hot Topic, Limited Too, Build-A-Bear, and the Hot Dog on a Stick. A final blow.

However, Nana and I learned to navigate this new mall. Then, when I would return home from college on breaks, she was always my first call.

My appetite for the finer things in life was expanding and I had gotten the itch for another one of Nana’s shopping appetites. Bags. She had only ever bought her purses at Macy’s, so when she had decided I was finally ready for my own bag, to Macy’s we went. By the time Nana had decided she would buy me a bag, I of course had already meticulously researched the one I wanted.

It was 2014, and I had my heart set on a Marc by Marc Jacobs Percy Q Crossbody Bag. Naturally, it had to be on sale, which meant the color would have to be from a past season—something that wasn’t black or neutral.

Percy Q Crossbody

I had been eyeing one in the sale section: hot pink and marked down to $122. I calculated that with Nana’s Macy’s card, which gave us an extra 25% off, the price would drop to just $98. I felt I had chosen something small and appropriately priced, just as I always had.

The mall’s expansion highlighted a reality I didn’t want to face: it was becoming harder for Nana to walk the long distances between stores. Her stamina was waning. Our trips to the mall grew shorter as we strolled arm in arm, slowly making our way through the stores until she would whisper that she was tired and ready to go home.

Nana passed away on May 12, 2021, at the age of 91. She loved the mall, and she loved me.

In so many ways, she is the reason I am who I am, and she will always be my best friend.

Nana and I