Marks and Spencer bosses have, ominously, declined to comment on rumours that the Aberdeen stores might be for the axe.
This time last year came their bombshell announcement that 30 branches would close; Glasgow’s historic Sauchiehall Street shop bit the dust in April. Today, the only thing the Markies’ bods will say is that they have “no current announcements”, and staff would be the first to know.
Not exactly a declaration of confidence in the future survival of our two city branches. We just have to wait and hope.
Most of us fear losing the flagship Markies in the St Nicholas Centre, the original wee store that opened in 1944. Its closure would be the final nail in the coffin of city centre shopping – the place thoosands o’ us bought oor first bras and (still expanding) knickers.
You don’t have to be an al’ wrinkly like me to be heartbroken about the decimation of our adored retail delights. From the 1950s until not all that long ago, Union Street and George Street, later the malls, were magnets for thousands of Aberdonians and country folk every Saturday.
The wonderful old foties show streets and pavements hoochin’ past Isaac Benzie’s, Falconers, the Equitable, Watt & Grant, Reid & Pearson, the Copie Arcade, the beloved Rubber Shop and, later, the go-to dream store for every age, C&A.
Dinner and a show – fa’ needs TV?
After a morning shop, ye’d hae yer dinner, nae in a soulless McDonald’s, but in the wonderful Victoria or Princess (midway doon the steps to the Green) cafes, where the mince and tatties or pie, gravy and chips were like ambrosia of the gods, served by immaculate waitresses in black and white.
If dad went to Pittodrie, we’d meet at Burton’s, then into the Gloucester Hotel for those delish high teas – my favourite being egg, chips, toast, then scones and cakes. Don’t anyone try to tell me they cook food like that anymore.
Doon to the Tivoli to variety shows starring Chic Murray, Lex McLean, Jack Milroy or Rikki Fulton, singer Robert Wilson. Different one every week. Fa’ needed television?
Baby’s first shopping spree
In my teens, working in a sell-a’thing shoppie in Correction Wynd (Supasave, next to the Toy Bazaar) the profit-hungry boss sent one of his Saturday girls on an undercover mission to Markies to spy oot the fruit and veg prices. Then our signs would catch the eye of en route shoppers: “Bananas 2p cheaper than M&S!” Inspired.
How could I forget my baby girl’s first sojourn into the hallowed halls, when she screamed from the moment we entered until the doors closed behind our buggy? “She’ll never be a shopper,” predicted my mum.
In fact, she’s turned out to be one in spades, as is her quine. There’s nothing the clones enjoy more than scouring the stores, even minus John Lewis and Debenhams.
I just keep imagining, with a wee tear, how much more they would have adored city centre shopping as it gloriously used to be.
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of The Press & Journal and started her journalism career in 1970
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