From the desk of Roland Rocchiccioli – 5 September

I wager, Sir Sidney Myer will be turning in his grave at the demise of his once glorious Myers Emporium.

I MOVED to Melbourne in 1970; consequently, unlike friends raised in the metropolitan area, and regional Victoria, I have no childhood memories of the grand old shop. In Perth, the equivalent was Boans, and of that splendid establishment I have the most vivid recollections. My mother, Beria, and I were in Perth, March 1954. She was finalising her divorce from my father, Ginger. I remember, with clarity, the first time she took me into Boans. It had a particular smell. I was an unusually observant child – no detail too unimportant to escape my scrutiny – or questioning. “Why”? was my favourite word. It drove Beria spare. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Ask your teacher!”, was the only way to silence me.

Boans was an Aladdin’s cave. I was awestruck. Beria commented, “Your eyes were popping-out of your head!” My mother was a maid’s fitting – somewhere between a size 6-8, and was always well-dressed. She took me with her when she went shopping in Boan’s women’s department. I wandered around, speechless and staring, touching and the feeling the quality of the cloth on the countless dummy mannequins wearing the latest fashions. I lifted-up the skirt of one display. My horrified, bell-like voice rang-out though the department, “Mum, she not wearing any pants!” Everyone one laughed. Beria shook her head.

The brass-inlaid wooden escalators held a special attraction. I went up-and-down while Beria shopped. When she asked if she could leave me standing in the corner of the lift the uniformed female lift-driver – replete with white gloves – eyed her suspiciously, “Yes, but make sure you come back and collect him. I’ve got four of my own. I don’t need another one!” They both laughed. I watched closely as the lift glided between floors. I listened intently to her announcements. By the time Beria came to collect me I knew by rote what was available on every floor.

Boans, like many Australian stores between 1900-1960, advertised and sold furniture made only by white labour, and carried a verification sticker. Racism was so rampant, unions argued workshops should have glass-plated fronts, thus allowing customers to check that no Asiatic labour was being employed, secretly! In 1960, my first year at boarding school, my father took me to Boans to buy my school uniform. It was demolished in 1987.

For my first five-years in Melbourne I worked day and night at the Melbourne Theatre Company.  I knew only Myer’s and George’s. Myer’s carried the widest range of goods, including the best button counter, fabrics and lace, arts and craft, and haberdashery; a much-loved bargain basement; a conveyor belt of hard and soft centred chocolates; a fabulous food hall with fruit cakes. It’s where I discovered Tip Tree jam; and sensational Christmas window shopping. Alas, all have gone. Now, mostly, it is an independent collection of famous brands. The Bourke Street ground floor perfumery pongs like a tart’s parlour! Everyone shopped regularly at Myer’s. Sadly, all the attractions which made it such a treat have vanished, especially the customer service. Recently, I tried purchase a travelling clock. Bewildered, they suggested I try accessories. I stared, disbelievingly, “It’s a clock! I’m not going to wear it.”

Internationally, the future of department stores is being debated. I am neither an anthropologist, nor a social scientist, but if ignore the wants of the customer, why would they bother? Times and tastes change; however, Myer’s was, at its zenith, an emporium, and that was its attraction! Sadly, they’ve destroyed its charm – they even changed its name, and now it sells little of what anyone wants to buy.

Roland can be contacted via [email protected] and you can hear him on 3BA every Monday morning – 10.30am.