One thing you notice about the Fashion District — six years after the Market East mall opened — is that practically no one calls it by its proper name, after all this time. “I don’t like this new Gallery,” says Theo, a security guard stationed by the food court on a March afternoon.
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The Gallery, of course, was the name of the quirky, 1960s-inspired mall designed by Ed Bacon that formerly occupied the same grounds. Asked if this “new Gallery” ever feels boisterous, Theo offers a shrug. “Sometimes on the weekend,” he says, but even then, he adds, “it lacks a vibe.”
It’s not a coincidence that the mood is mellow. In April 2023, the mall’s management team instituted a ban on unaccompanied teenagers after 2pm. After a few incidents in which hundreds of kids showed up and allegedly grew disorderly inside, security guards began asking young people for identification at each entrance. Those guards, I like to call them bumblebees.
“Where there were once long blank walls on Market and Filbert Streets, there are now lively storefronts with real entrances, occupied by the likes of H&M, Ulta, Starbucks, and City Winery.” — Inga Saffron, The Inquirer
With their yellow-and-black uniforms and mostly friendly demeanor, the constant presence of bumblebees is the second thing you notice about the Fashion District, for better or worse. (Theo, whose real name I’m not using, eagerly spoke to me on his shift “because I’m super bored,” he says.)
A lot of this city would have no issue wiping out the Fashion District altogether. The oft-reviled mall has been a commercial disaster since opening in 2019. But it holds a unique place on the shit list of many people. The ill-timed birth of the Fashion District (which was open for less than a year before the pandemic struck) marked a cultural death in the city for some. “Philly is losing its uniqueness due to transplants. Renaming and rebuilding the Gallery to the Fashion District, putting a 76ers stadium over top of Chinatown, removing murals, and rowhouses with panels instead of bricks. It’s losing its color,” wrote one X user last year.
In my own circles, I’ve heard exclusively bad things: It’s bland. It’s corporate. There’s a dearth of local shops (and, crucially, people). In fact, it’s hard to find any mention of the mall that’s not followed by a joke or slight. “That Hurts hoodie looks like it was made at the Fashion District,” someone else wrote on X in February — a particularly devastating tweet, for me, considering I thought the hoodie was cool.
The name itself garners such strong and pervasive disdain that I’ll do you all a favor and just use TFD from this point forward.
So, it was not by choice — but instead, dragged there by a long list of errands — that I ventured into TFD for the first time about a month ago. And as I sat outside the Sephora, twiddling my thumbs, I began to look around. There was almost no litter. It was a Sunday, but the mall’s 850,000-square-foot space was exceedingly quiet, even while a diverse cross-section of the city roamed around. The chaos of Market East, literally just outside, felt like it was far away.
After grabbing an Auntie Anne’s pretzel on the way out, I decided that one taste of TFD was not enough to give it a compliment. Surely it couldn’t be as bad as what one X user recently chirped, calling it “maybe the most evil place I’ve ever been.” Or, could it?
For all the bad reviews, little did I expect to find the mall, well … sorta pleasant?
Like an indoor park. Only tastier
The site of the 76ers proposed downtown arena is visible from the bar of City Winery, where I’m sitting on a recent Wednesday, enjoying a glass of half-priced wine. It was an oasis of abundance: a three-hour happy hour in a cavernous restaurant, tucked inside a mostly empty mall.
For years, one of the major selling points of the proposed arena project, according to its boosters, was that it could save the moribund Market East corridor. There only seemed to be one aspect of the project that did not generate any controversy or resistance from some constituents: Demolishing one-third of TFD to make way for the arena. Nobody seemed eager to preserve it.
Even the mall’s owners were fully on board with the team’s plans, in hopes that destroying a wing could spur more foot traffic in the areas that would remain.
Surely it couldn’t be as bad as what one X user recently chirped, calling it “maybe the most evil place I’ve ever been.” Or, could it?
Despite 20,000 daily visitors, the future of TFD is now murkier than ever, after the team elected to build a new South Philly arena instead. That uncertainty hangs in the air of the mall today, where about 15 percent of the stores sit vacant. Its foot traffic has yet to return to pre-pandemic levels. Meanwhile, advertisements for an Heirloom Market at 8th and Market, which already came and went, are prominently displayed above an escalator.
The more you venture in, however, the more there is to like. Whether it’s the going-out-of-business sale at Forever 21 or the comforting smells of Cinnabon, there are classic mall staples around most corners, except the ones that are cordoned off while idle.
There’s plenty that’s affordable. You can buy spiky necklaces at Spencer’s (3-for-1 from the BodyRage brand), a green juice for under $10 at the District Mart, or peruse Dollar Party Plus — where, in a pinch, you can acquire any combination of a cheese cloths, plungers, paint rollers, swimming goggles, comic books and lightbulbs on the cheap. There are also reliable clearance sales at places like Aeropostale and Eddie Bauer, plus a Nike store that’s among the best in the city. The bathrooms in the mall are plentiful and surprisingly clean, based on my experience.
Sure, TFD is stupidly generic. But would the alternative be any less, stupid? Would you want your favorite boutique or Mitchell & Ness or Di Bruno’s to be hard up for customers, instead?
Ironically, there’s plenty to do for younger ages at the mall, as long as they’re chaperoned come the late afternoon. You can try the glow-in-the-dark mini golf course, the arcade (with better prices than Dave & Buster’s), or the plush playground called Kids Kastle — but really, why the K though?
Hungry? The “Market Eats” food court is small but solid. For a sweet fix, Tiffany’s Bakery will serve up whole cakes or slices. I recommend a taste test of the three, near-identical pretzel shops spread throughout the mall (Wetzel’s Pretzels is narrowly in the lead, for me). Or go see Wicked at the most barren AMC you’ll find east of the Mississippi.
Just think about it like an indoor public park — a clean, quiet place to walk and aimlessly wonder in Center City.
The best part of TFD is its proximity to transportation. It’s connected to both subways, the Regional Rail, and parking lots. You’ll bump into all walks of life inside: folks with briefcases trekking through the mall towards Jefferson Station, parents on their days off with kids, people killing time while en route to dinner or home. It makes TFD a great place to people watch.
The mall can be dispiriting, but the design isn’t terrible. Back when it opened, Inga Saffron mostly agreed in her review — rightly pointing out that the mall’s ugliness obscures its functionality as a space:
“What is most mystifying about this cheapo renovation is that it undercuts the owners’ near-heroic efforts to desuburbanize the 1977 design. Where there were once long blank walls on Market and Filbert Streets, there are now lively storefronts with real entrances, occupied by the likes of H&M, Ulta, Starbucks, and City Winery.”
Yes, it’s a little ghostly. And at night time, TFD can feel like a zombie-breeding ground from The Last of Us. But the upshot of those failures is that the mall is rarely crowded, particularly during the off-peak hours of a weekday. One day, I popped into TFD to take an important phone call, caught between meetings in Center City. While on the phone, I sat on a bench that had a built-in outlet, where I charged my phone. Where else can you do that in a public space?
After spending a little bit of time there, it’s really not so bad. Here’s my advice: Don’t think about TFD as a shopping mall, and definitely don’t compare it to The Gallery. Just think about it like an indoor public park — a clean, quiet place to walk and aimlessly wonder in Center City. You’ll see the occasional pigeon. And of course, bumblebees.
Correction: This article previously stated that the Heirloom Market at 8th and Market never opened.
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