Emily Parnell: The shifting sands of retail make any Metcalf South redevelopment tricky

All the recent talk about what should be done with the dilapidated ghost-mall of Metcalf South Shopping Center gives me flashbacks — and a serious case of deja vu.

I grew up in Missouri, just a couple miles east of where I live today in Overland Park.

As a girl of the ‘80s, a favorite pastime was to use a plastic purple pick and a can of Aquanet to sculpt tall, fluffy mall bangs from my spiral-permed tresses, then head out on the town with friends.

Often, we headed to Bannister Mall — big and shiny with shopping options galore. But sometimes, we’d head the opposite direction to Metcalf to play miniature golf or browse through Metcalf South. At the time, the mall was booming. Full of life, teenager uniforms, fountains, treats and music stores.

I’d love for that corner to return to the booming shopping mecca it once was. Sure, I’m less likely to head to The Limited for acid-washed jeans now, and much more likely to pop in to find kid-sized leggings and shoes, but the location is convenient, a perfect location to pop in to.

But rebuilding there isn’t so easy, it seems. The city and its people have ideas — ideas about what exactly floats their boat. As I heard the opinions fly — no big box stores, no big parking lots, high-end retailers — my fantasy of having a quick stop for an inexpensive pair of pants or gym shoes after my child grows four inches overnight began to slip away.

The whole debate conjured more memories from my young adulthood. At some point during these years (when I had nearly zero interest in current events), a news story caught my attention. White Castle, the home of greasy sliders, wanted to open a restaurant on Metcalf. There was just one problem. White Castle, as the name suggests, is a castle-shaped building that is, you guessed it, white in color. Oh, what a taboo there was surrounding the erection of a small white building. Apparently, the people of Overland Park could not stomach a restaurant in such a hideous color. They slammed their suburbanite fists and demanded that the castle be not white, but beige.

The city’s determination to force the iconic burger place’s image epitomized every stereotype we Missourians held about Johnson County.

The stance on the building struck me as arrogant. Why wasn’t something good enough for the rest of the country not good enough for Metcalf? The city wanted to strip it of its individuality and create a sea of blah.

“Gosh,” I said to myself, “why on earth would they care if the White Castle isn’t the prettiest thing ever. What they should be worried about is that eyesore across the street, that ugly King Louie.”

There, I said it. King Louie did not, and still does not, float my boat.

Things change. After being avid Missouri supporters in the Kansas-Missouri border war, my husband and I packed our bags and moved to Johnson County. The once- thriving malls and all the strip malls in between, are various percentages vacant. Retail appears to be a hard business, and online shopping with free two-day shipping is an attractive option.

I’m no expert on retail development, and perhaps my eye for architecture is not as refined as others. But obviously, whatever happens at that corner needs to be planned smartly if it’s to have staying power.

This story was originally published September 15, 2015 at 7:03 PM with the headline "Emily Parnell: The shifting sands of retail make any Metcalf South redevelopment tricky."