The Village

Anybody who lived in West Hempstead in the 1980s was very familiar with Nassau County’s famous flea market, Shopper’s Village. Oh sure, there was the fancy Roosevelt Field Mall a few miles away, filled with upscale stores. You could easily get there on the N15 bus that ran down Woodfield Road. But we had Shopper’s Village—the greatest place in the world.

I can still smell the pickles. Yes, pickles. You could smell them in the parking lot. The aroma of all kinds of pickles permeated the village. My favorites were garlic. I used to buy one for about a quarter and then hit the floors with my friends. I didn’t have a girlfriend in those days. Who would want to kiss a guy with a mouth full of garlic pickles? The good news was I was safe from vampires.

There were dozens and dozens of shops. You could buy anything from a pair of socks to a dollhouse. High school romances developed within the confines of the two floors—and many of them crashed and burned at the food court. Girls’ hair was higher than Snoop Dogg. Every other booth sold hairspray. I stand guilty of sporting parachute pants, Capezios, and a mullet.

As I shop on Amazon today, buying gifts for the coming holidays, my thoughts teleport back to Shopper’s Village in the ’80s, where I bought presents for my family booth by booth. I’m reminded of my first “real” job at Sneaker Village on the second floor. I think of my friend George, who worked in the food court. My friend John worked in the sports memorabilia shop, where we would hang out and talk Islanders hockey for days—despite the fact that John was a Rangers fan.

One day, Baba Booey from The Howard Stern Show came into the shop. Very nice guy, for the record. Little did I know that years later I would create a game show for radio, appear on the Stern show, and come full circle with Baba Booey.

One weekend, when my mother was working for a chiropractor, I walked around the flea market dressed as a spine to drum up business. I’m not sure how effective I was, but he paid me in cash, which I immediately spent at the record store on the second floor.

It was a sad day when the doors closed for good in the 1990s. Shopper’s Village became a Wholesale Liquidators. I believe that when I walked around Liquidators, I could still smell the pickles—though maybe that was just my imagination.

Briefly, they tried to bring Shopper’s Village back, but the revival didn’t last. Today, the building has been demolished, and housing is being built in its place. Like Ebbets Field, it had its day, and now the memory is buried beneath new construction.

Happy holidays to you and your family.