Remembering window displays

I went on my first major shopping expedition of the season this past weekend. I got some really good deals, saw a few friends and enjoyed the piped in Christmas music. Even though the skies outside were a dull gray, it was a beautiful day.
The one thing missing was a trip to see the Christmas windows. The stores where I shopped had foregone windows entirely, opting for security and utilitarianism instead.
There were lots of Christmas displays inside the stores, along with the requisite bell ringers that help to define the season. But the lack of elaborate holiday scenes left me wanting.
True, the scenes I miss are a relatively new invention. It wasn’t until a little over a hundred years ago in the late 1890’s and early 1900’s, that the invention and use of plate glass enabled stores to display their merchandise behind ever larger windows. And what better way to take advantage of these portholes into the treasures just waiting to be purchased than to decorate them to the hilt at Christmas time.
There were no shopping malls when I was little. No huge mega-marts offering groceries, tools and clothing all under the same roof dotted the landscape. One parked in front of the five and dime or the grocery store. Nobody ever lost their car in a hundred-acre parking lot because such parking lots didn’t exist. There was no internet. If one wanted to shop, one had to actually touch their choices before shelling out hard earned cash.
As the selection in the local small towns was adequate for our usual purchases, the only times we ventured into the big city were for special things. Christmas is as special as it gets. In addition to the increased selection, the Christmas windows held an interest of their own. And in my world, the windows at The Rike-Kumler Co, known as Rike’s, in downtown Dayton, Ohio, were the best of the best.
It was as close to a shopping mall as there was. Rising nine stories and taking up almost an entire city block, it held everything from fine jewelry, china, a bakery, shoes, furniture and enough clothing to outfit the entire city. There were a couple of restaurants and even a basement for bargains.
They had pay toilets with marble floors. They had stairs, escalators and elevators. They had an entire world of toys way up on the eighth floor. It was THE place to shop. If you couldn’t find something you wanted in its 920,000 square feet, you weren’t trying.
But the highlight was always the Christmas windows. They wrapped around almost the entire first floor of the building. All of Santa’s reindeer and most of the elves would be behind those windows. Some would move and it was always exciting to try to figure out which ones were animated and which weren’t. Occasionally there were live models interspersed among the mannequins. Sometimes each window held a separate tableau and other times the scenes flowed into each other in a magnificent display. Most people I knew made at least one trip to see what the window dressers had created that year and Christmas wasn’t complete without that visit.
Those days are gone. No more do small children leave nose prints in store windows trying to get closer to Rudolph. No more is a trip into town a special thing. The figures that once fascinated a generation or two now rest in a museum. Rike’s has been demolished and replaced with something more in line with today’s values. I haven’t been to Dayton in years and years.
Christmas windows remain in my memory and I smile when I think of them. I think we have lost a bit of the magic of Christmas by allowing them to fade into obscurity. But that is the nature of things, nothing ever stays the same.
Sometimes that is a good thing and other times it just leaves us wistful for what used to be.[[In-content Ad]]