The Day the Music Died

When I learned that Fortunoff, the N.Y.-based jewelry and housewares chain, was closing, a feeling of nausea washed over me. Having spent my formative retail years – ages 16 to 21 – working there in various departments, it felt like a door to my youth was closing.

When you’re 16 and you’re selling towels, you really don’t appreciate it. But over the years, when I returned to Fortunoff as a customer, I realized the unique niche it occupied and why my mom used to think my employee discount was such a great thing.

Sad as I felt about Fortunoff, my daughter Jill was absolutely crestfallen to learn that the Virgin Megastore in Times Square was closing. At 16, she’s totally immersed in the music scene and – though surprising for her age – she has tremendous respect for and interest in a variety of music genres.

Every time she and I went to Manhattan, visiting Virgin Megastore was a must. Inevitably, we’d agree to spend 30 minutes there . . . and 90 minutes later she’d be begging for “10 more minutes.” Jill would go from one listening station to the next, agonize over choosing just the right CDs, pore over various music magazines and spend at least 20 minutes trying to figure out which black band T-shirt was just right to add to her ever growing collection of . . . black band T-shirts.

I enjoy listening to music as much as the next gal, but Jill’s passion runs way deeper than any feelings I’ve ever had for Elton John and Billy Joel. (Go ahead, make fun of me — I’m used to it.) When I told her about the fate of the Virgin Megastore, she went on a tirade about how there’s no place else like it, that she’s sick and tired of people buying all their music online and how this latest injustice eclipsed the closing of Tower Records (which had prompted a similar outburst a while back).

I felt like I was pouring salt on her wounds when I told her that Forever 21 would be opening in that space later this year. Wonderful chain that it is, Forever 21 is anathema to a self-proclaimed Goth girl and Hot Topic devotee.

The sense of sadness among many of the store shoppers we encountered during our last visit was unmistakable. So many looked as though they were losing a friend, and I knew that was how Jill was feeling. She can strike up a conversation about music with anyone, but there she truly came alive. The sales associates always respected her opinions. She told them about her band, her guitars and her favorite new artists and the conversations that ensued never ceased to amaze me.

Jill will miss Virgin Megastores. I’ll miss watching her come alive in an environment that embraces music lovers and gave her the chance to feel part of a subculture she has come to cherish.