The Lloyd Center promoted itself as a “mini city within a city” when it opened in 1960. It had groceries, a bank, a cobbler—even an ice rink. The mall was open-air, too, until it got a $200 million hat in 1991. Despite another multimillion-dollar zhuzh in 2016, the makeovers are continuing. Ground broke in October on the music venue taking over Nordstrom’s footprint. And though its verbiage is less romantic, current ownership’s plan to tear down the rest before the year ends to make way for a “mixed-use neighborhood” kinda-sorta harkens back to the free-loving ’60s. 

If you squint, at present the mall is quintessentially representative of its form, with that hollow retail grandeur. But as the expected headache sets in while you’re descending the escalator, the run of indie shops that took over during the pandemic materializes. Hot Topic, the cockroach of the retail apocalypse, is still open, but Vans, Lids, et al., bailed. In their place: Floating World Comics, an indie Lego store called Brickdiculous, an edgy vintage shop called Bauhaus Mode. For a moment, the Marshalls became a roller rink. Photographer Michael Raines opened a semi-ironic photo studio in one storefront in 2022. For a year, he shot commercial projects in the space and sometimes opened for walk-in glamour shots. 

Did the organic version of a city within a city that Raines joined have legs? Holdouts have pitched alternatives to bulldozing, but ownership never showed much interest in preserving the mall. Others have embraced impermanence. In an Instagram post offering her services as “the unofficial Lloyd Mall real estate broker,” Allie Furlotti, founder of the gallery and artist residency space ILY2 Too, signed off asking, “what is more comforting than knowing nothing lasts forever?”

While several food carts and scrappy retailers are still getting their first shots at brick-and-mortar digs at the Lloyd, the vibe has shifted from retail renaissance to Mallrats revival. Cosplay groups, yo-yo clubs, the Portland Zine Meetup, and the ’80s glam walking group dubbed the Food Court 5000 gather regularly in its public spaces. Recently, Raines went back to capture those making use of the ruins before they’re turned over yet again.