Checking in on an Old Friend

In a way, the pseudo-abandoned mall north of Cincinnati encapsulates many of this website's themes from over the years: crumbling consumerism, abandonment/urban exploration, history, fading advertisements, nostalgia, and personal connection. I grew up going here, I’ve written about it twice, and I still find myself coming back on occasion to see how things are. It's like checking in on an old friend who lives in an incredibly unique time and place.

The first article dropped just over a decade ago. A follow up, when the mall had fallen even further, was born out of the retail jubilee known as Black Friday in 2015.

The place is still a topic of fascination, curiosity, and (sub)urban legend for not just locals, but people all across god’s great internet. What is technically known as Forest Fair Village (née Cincinnati Mall (née Cincinnati Mills (née Forest Fair Mall))) pops up all the time between social media, dead mall devotees, redditors, and even as the topic of click-bait bullshit (using images often stolen from here).

The previous QC/D posts summarize the shopping complex's history succinctly, so I’ll just skip to the present on this one as I type from the Starbucks down the street (since the mall's Starbucks is long gone).

*The Starbucks used to be straight ahead.*

I happened to find myself there on Memorial Day, walking beneath the American flag motifs in one of the mall’s three mostly-empty wings. The Kohl’s and Bass Pro Shop anchors were populated with their holiday sales, but the the Babies "R" Us had finally called it quits. The gym and inflatable kid’s zone were still open. The local gem known as Arcade Legacy was also very much alive and well (although closed for the day).

This was the quietest I’d ever experienced the place. There was no music echoing down the empty hallways and there were hardly any walkers shuffling about. The old Media Play had a sign up warning about ongoing police training. The candy in the gumball machines had been under dust for Bazooka Joe knows how long. The escalators, riddled with dirt and debris, had simply become stairs. A lot of the furniture had been removed, but at least one decent chair/couch combo still remained for a security guard to utilize while charging his phone.

Despite still technically open and in business, the mall's "abandoned aura" was stronger than it'd ever been compared to my previous decade's worth of visits. Mop buckets (many of them emblazoned with the names of former tenants after the words “property of”) littered the hallways while catching a chorus of leaks form the ceilings. In one wing, there was something I had never noticed before: the phrase “ta da!”

It was posted up there like a jubilant exclamation, marking the entrance to the main mall. This visual was installed when the place re-debuted as Cincinnati Mills circa 2003 almost as if was trying to say...

“Ta da!”

Can you believe it!?

Everything that’s changed?

All the progress we made!

Finally, this mall has made it (we've been trying since '88)!

Cincinnati Mills has arrived!

“Ta da!”