Saturdays are for the boys, but also the shoppers. Ever since I first arrived in Philadelphia, one noteworthy activity regularly enriches my weekends: wandering among Center City’s emporium of superstores. A stroll within the city’s vibrant shopping scene never fails to satisfy—even amid a penetrating breeze or unsupervised tweens screaming obscenities.
On Feb. 10, I ventured off campus to secure a long–overdue essential for any Philadelphian: Philadelphia Eagles merch. After a bumpy SEPTA ride to Dilworth Park, I instinctually began an all–too–familiar path to Macy’s: a personal sanctuary of both fond childhood and young–adult memories. Following a robust chorus of “E–L–G–S–E–S” chanters, I expected to be greeted by the store’s usual welcoming aura, exquisite product arrays, and tranquil background music. Yet, a dismaying sight awaited me on the corner of 13th and Market streets: A “Closing: Entire Store 30–60% Off” sign hung in the front window.
Opposite the glass doors lay an unrecognizable, chaotic merchandise layout. Clothing racks formerly sorted by size now presented miscellaneous combinations of polka–dotted skirts and oversized sweatshirts. Dusty pigsties of rugs and bedspreads had replaced a glowing display of gilded furniture. Shelves just two months ago flaunting vibrant Levi’s jeans patterns now lay barren. Among ubiquitous discount reminder posters, the store’s once–colorful complexion had subsided entirely.
Economically speaking, this outcome is unsurprising. While retail chains propelled 20th century metropolitan consumer culture, myriad factors have accelerated their decline over the past two decades. The Great Recession’s shrinkage of middle–class income reoriented the retail sector’s preferences towards discount stores. Furthermore, heightened outperformance from e–commerce conglomerates such as Amazon caused once lucrative vendors such as Gymboree to approach bankruptcy. Finally, COVID–19 sales disruptions tremendously exacerbated deficits of mall–and–outlet–based corporations. With Green Street Advisors estimating 25% of malls to shut down by 2027, the fate of United States department stores remains foreseeably grim.
In February 2024, Macy’s introduced a “Bold New Chapter” plan to combat productivity losses from the aforementioned factors, and CEO Tony Spring has projected investment in “350 go–forward locations” as a key mechanism for reviving “market share gains … and value creation for our shareholders.” Correspondingly, the enterprise’s newly instituted vision has necessitated the closures of underperforming stores; the Philadelphia branch is among 65 others to be shuttered in 2025.
However, for Philly, Macy’s Center City is no ordinary department store. Since 2006, this retailer’s occupancy of the Wanamaker Building means that customers are inevitably visiting a National Historic Landmark. Preeminent innovator John Wanamaker transformed a forsaken Pennsylvania Railroad station into the grandiose, marble building which stands today; afterwards, the Philly native sought to modernize the typical in–store excursion. His building’s first official retailer introduced a store–restaurant model, electricity system, and bell telephone. As customers walk the ground floor of Macy’s, Wanamaker’s intellectual prowess lingers in the form of his profound sentiments upon the store’s marble pedestals.
Adjacent to these pillars stands the Eagle—a bronze statue by German expressionist August Gaul. This sculptor had originally crafted the artifact for presentation at the 1904 World’s Fair, the Louisiana Purchase Exposition; interestingly, Wanamaker’s purchase of the display aided in customers’ navigation of his store. Following the artifact’s installation, shoppers coined the catchphrase “meet me at the Eagle” when arranging rendezvous; this visible landmark constituted a significant reference point in an otherwise massive court. Although digital communication has since replaced the Eagle’s service as a preordained meeting point, the majestic splendor of this statue remains intact.
Just a story above lies one particularly iconic feature: the Wanamaker Organ. Acclaimed as the world’s largest organ, this almost 29,000–pipe instrument’s first vibrations date back to 1911—saluting England’s King George V and Queen Mary’s coronation. Ever since, this wondrous creation has treated the ears of Macy’s visitors to an enchanting, delicate repertoire. Each December, its alluring tones have complemented Philly’s Dickens Village, a sensation of kaleidoscopic lights radiating images of snowmen, reindeer, and other merry holiday symbols. The organ’s pipes have even accompanied the Philadelphia Orchestra’s symphonies. For 30 years, a benefactor association—known as Friends of the Wanamaker Organ, Inc.—has worked annually to preserve this artifact’s delicate sound and hosts tours of its ornate interior.
With the store anticipated to close next month, now is your chance to indulge in a haven of prodigious price markdowns. Yet, if you choose to undergo this spree, take a moment to acknowledge the delicate, remarkable memorabilia surrounding you. While Center City’s Macy’s may have underperformed financially, this establishment’s broader historical and aesthetic legacy shall never cease to exist.
