Have you ever heard “Downtown,” Petula Clark’s ode to downtowns everywhere? It was a huge hit when it was released in 1964, and I spent hours listening to the radio hoping to hear it so I could sing along.
I think one reason for this song’s popularity, aside from Petula’s beautiful voice, was the promise that “things will be great when you’re downtown.” Who wouldn’t like a song with such optimistic lyrics?
The spirit of this song stayed with me through my teen years as I went downtown in my hometown of Rocky Mount to buy go-go boots and miniskirts that were all the rage. Decades later, I look back on this chapter of my life with amazement that I was ever able to fit into these clothes and that I had the nerve to wear them in public, subjecting others to my scantily clad body. My grandfather was appalled by my manner of dress, always asking me if I had forgotten the bottom half of my outfit. At the time, I thought he was hopelessly out of touch with fashion trends. I now realize he was a wise man with a wonderful sense of humor.
Those were the days when Carnaby Street, a shopping district in London, was the center of the fashion world, where celebrities like Twiggy were photographed strolling down the street wearing the latest mod clothing.
Decades later, having left behind my hometown shops and the fantasy world of Carnaby Street, I was strolling down a street in downtown Fayetteville — which I now consider my hometown — after having lunch with my daughter. We walked slowly by the shops, taking time to stop and look in the windows to see the displays. As we passed by one window that had an especially bright reflection, I noticed a middle-aged, slightly plump woman looking straight at me. Holy mackerel! Was that my reflection I was looking at and not another woman?
How could this be? I always thought if I strolled down the street with sunglasses on, my posture absolutely perfect, someone might think I was Audrey Hepburn playing the role of Holly Golightly and gazing at the window displays in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
The only differences between us were that Audrey Hepburn was tall and slender, wore exquisite designer dresses, and exuded an air of sophistication that was palpable. I, on the other hand, was short and full-figured (a euphemism for overweight), wore yoga pants everywhere, and generally had the look of a woman planning tonight’s dinner menu. Otherwise, we could have passed for twins.
One thing Audrey Hepburn would never have done while downtown or anywhere else for that matter was to drop all the contents of her purse while trying to figure out how to put money in a parking meter.
The first time I went downtown to meet some friends for lunch after the new parking meters had been installed, I rediscovered my inability to adapt to any changes in my routine. I had always gone downtown, found a convenient parking space, jumped out of the car, and gone about my business. This time, things were a bit more complicated.
While I understand Fayetteville’s need to generate revenue to pay for city services, I didn’t know I would need a tutorial for how to use this new machine. Between searching for a pen and some paper to write down my license number and inserting cash into the slot, I managed to spill the contents of my purse.
Like the glass that tips over and spills enough water to fill an ocean, my purse released enough items to stock a drugstore. I saw tubes of lipstick, combs, tissues, cough drops, and notepads scattered all over the ground. Cursing this new machine, I gathered my things, paid for two hours of parking, and joined my friends.
It would take a lot more than a scary reflection in a window and a cantankerous parking meter to keep me from coming downtown. There are too many interesting shops and great restaurants to enjoy, not to mention Segra Stadium and the U.S. Army Airborne and Special Operations Museum. We have come quite a long way in developing the downtown area in the 41 years I have lived here.
I do have one piece of advice for shoppers: Just make sure you don’t spend too much time looking in windows, especially the ones with bright reflections. You never know who might be looking back at you.
Mary Zahran, who couldn’t fit into a miniskirt if her life depended on it, can be reached at maryzahran@gmail.com.
Read CityView Magazine’s “The Downtown Issue” June e-edition here.
