With Labor Day nearing this year, I am reminded of my grandmother, who has passed away.
She dedicated her entire working life to the modest shoe shop she co-owned with my grandfather in the Bronx. Her view of her profession, and of Labor Day promotions, serves as a mirror to an American era now seemingly at risk.
My grandmother escaped Europe at the outset of the Holocaust, tragically losing some of her siblings and parents. She subsequently toiled diligently in the U.S., assisting customers with fitting penny loafers and pumps, and accumulated sufficient savings to fund my college education—as well as our excursions to Manhattan department stores close to her residence for their Labor Day discounts.
We would meticulously examine overflowing bins of reduced-price 1980s apparel and navigate past cosmetics associates, with their voluminous hair, keen to spray us with Anais, Charlie, and other potent fragrances of that period.
The department store outings my grandmother and I shared represented a pledge of social advancement that I needed to trust in during my youth, a form of the American dream that, much like the beloved stores my grandmother cherished such as Gimbel’s and B. Altman’s, has since vanished.
Even at the age of 105, she was conscious of how many of the establishments we used to visit had already shut down. In our final discussion, we listed them by name, individually.
Labor Day and the American Dream
During my upbringing, I was taught that extensive reading, academic success, and contributing positively to society would broaden my prospects—not only for myself but also for individuals such as my grandmother and other immigrants. For a brief period, roughly between the 1970s and early 1980s, this feeling of potential was more than just societal conditioning. Most individuals born in the 1940s surpassed their parents’ economic standing; for those born in the 1980s, this figure dropped to 50%.
Presently, a significant portion of Americans report a worsening financial state over the last year, particularly those earning under $50,000, as per a recent poll. Concurrently, immigrants in America, much like my grandmother once was, contend with heightened economic and social instability.
Reports indicate that immigrant laborers contributed 18.0% of America’s total output in 2023, approximately $1.9 trillion in 2024 currency. However, numerous immigrant workers now confront the persistent threat of deportation, and many have already been removed. My immigrant grandparents come to mind whenever I learn that ICE operations are active nearby.
During our most active period together—I passed every weekend with my grandmother and grandfather until my pre-teen years—she instilled in me her immigrant-shaped understanding of potential. Part of this involved the opportunities presented by venues such as theaters, libraries, and department stores.
Shopping’s Sociological Aspects
According to historian Sophia Rosenfeld in The Age of Choice, shopping constituted an element of “having choices and making choices,” which characterized—and still characterizes—a sometimes deceptive modern liberty, particularly for women.
My grandmother and I experienced that sense of liberation, even if it was merely an illusion. Urban environments, ranging from her reasonably priced Mitchell-Lama apartment for middle-income residents, to the park, to the retail store, all contributed to our individual journey of self-discovery (bildungsroman).
Only later did I come to understand that the delight of selection I experienced during my childhood’s back-to-school and Labor Day promotions was a minor component of a narrative Americans recount about themselves: that we control our own fate. I eventually grew disheartened, even preoccupied, by how this sense of autonomy had been corrupted by excessive consumerism and worker exploitation. The occasional thrill of “queen-for-a-day” bargain hunting gave way to a more damaging form of obligatory purchasing: frenzied “sales events” and corporate giants such as Amazon, Walmart, and Target, which provide consistently low prices throughout the year. Currently, Labor Day sales are primarily the domain of major retailers.
Frequently, the reduced prices offered by large retailers coincide with deteriorating employment conditions—as the minimum wage lags behind inflation, and numerous employees are compelled to accept inconsistent schedules, often without sufficient regular hours to qualify for health insurance.
Conversely, during the period my grandmother and I spent time together, department store employees were transitioning from what the late historian Susan Porter Benson termed “the clerking sisterhood.” A substantial number of these workers belonged to labor unions. However, the 1980s marked the onset of union decline nationwide. Concurrently, Labor Day sales gained increasing prominence, serving as an peculiar substitute for the diminishing respect afforded to a growing number of workers.
I grasp both the enjoyments and the hazards associated with consumerism. I recognize that, based on consumer research principles, people generally experience a greater sense of independence when making purchases. I appreciate the charm of historical department stores, with their limestone facades, cornices, barrel-vaulted entryways, and expansive gold-framed windows. I acknowledge the societal importance of sales, particularly for less advantaged individuals in America.
I am personally attracted to reduced prices, “the 99 cent items,” and leftover stock, frequently visiting consignment shops and sample sales, sifting through bargain bins, and, just like my grandmother, purchasing garments “as is.”
However, I also acknowledge that Labor Day promotions have the potential to divert attention from the labor movement. Furthermore, I support initiatives like Buy Nothing Day and the Stop Shopping choir.
For me, shopping for bargains, despite its inherent risks, retains a lingering emotional significance. During my final conversation with my grandmother, we recited the name of each store and remarked on its closure.
“Bamberger’s,” I uttered.
“It shut down,” she replied.