Chapel Square Mall: nothing like the suburbs

FILE PHOTO Radio Shack, Burger King, and more...only two blocks away!

By Ian Blecher

Across New Haven's green, past a row of colonial churches, in the shadows of our urban landscape, lurks what the Yale Daily News has dubbed the "Ghetto Mall" [YDN, 9/19/97]. Now that the Yale Co-op has decided to export itself to the wrong side of the tracks, we (as I call myself) decided to check out the scene--test the waters, if you will--as a service to you, dear reader, and as a service to posterity.

The first establishment we encountered in Chapel Square Mall, "Aloha Ice Cream," was decidedly petit-bourgeois. The store featured homemade pretzels; it is a little known fact that the pretzel is a Hawaiian delicacy. We decided to sample something slightly less exotic, so we ordered a specialty, adzuki ice cream. They had run out of the sweet red bean concoction, so we went for a different flavor: Dole Whip orange/pineapple. To be honest, it wasn't too good--it even gave us indigestion. But it was non-fat (the bloating, however, made us look fatter, so the benefit wasn't significant). Nevertheless, you've got to hand it to Aloha--they're trying something different.

We wandered around a bit and eventually strolled into J & M Produce. It isn't your everyday mall produce store, to say the least. Mr. J and Mr. M manage to pack all sorts of fresh fruits and vegetables as well as imported Mexican fare into a relatively intimate setting. Ever get that hankering for flan or sofrito? What about a delicious cola-champagne (Goya 1996, which was a good year for champagne, and an even better one for cola)? J & M can also fulfill all your spam and canned herring needs. We at the Herald have not failed to notice the resurgence of spam on the fashion scene--you've worn the shirt, now buy the product.

Right next to Hairbraiding Haven stands Nails Plus, where you can get a full set of acrylic stick-ons for only $25. One store we couldn't help but patronize (and we mean that in the nicest possible sense), was Sam's $ Mart, where we snagged five notebooks for $3. We also bought a can of name-brand room deodorant for $1.25. Such a can can change your life: a smell that you can wear with pride means a smile about which you can be sincere.

The first floor has quite a few convenient chain stores: Radio Shack, Burger King, The Athlete's Foot, and Lady Foot Locker, to name a few. But thanks to the homogenization of global capitalism, we are spared any obligation to explain them to you; only know that they exist, and that Whoppers, provided they are eaten in secret, taste good.

Our tour of the mall continued upstairs, where we found a number of provocative boutiques. One you might want to check out is called Born and Raised USA. This store offers some of the hippest apparel possible, and all at low J. Crew prices. If you're looking for a shirt that identifies you as a "Player," this is the only place to go.

Next, we walked over to Choice, a found objects store. When they say "Choice," they mean it. We spent a good deal of time perusing the knicks and the knacks. From Asian trinkets to dolls, if you're looking to redecorate your room or even send a gift to a friend who forgot your last two birthdays, we heartily recommend Choice, with a Warholesque array of portraits of the Last Supper for $10 each. If you've ever wondered where people get stuff they donate to the Salvation Army which they just bought new, wonder no more.

At Videotek, another spot to while away the hours, you can pose for your own airbrushed portrait, watch others pose for their own airbrushed portraits, and admire the airbrushed portraits that line the walls. We liked the picture of a 15-year-old girl, captioned with a fluorescent "Mad Love"; this reference to Ben Jonson's "Celia" brought tears to our eyes.

Chapel Square Mall isn't the poshest, but it's a great way to spend the hours between lunch at the club and dinner at the club. The shopping center does boast many other jewels, and fortunately, there isn't space here for us to describe them. We now know, though (all satirical personae aside), that Chapel Square Mall no more deserves to be called a "ghetto" than Yalies ought to be labeled materialistic snobs. Check your pretensions at the door, and you'll discover an unbeatable mall for a weekday afternoon.

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