Claire’s Was A Magical Place Of Girl Power

Being a girl — especially a tween girl — has never been easy. But certain things in the world have made it better, brighter, bigger. The girl power era of the ’90s really gave us the freedom to scream-sing Spice Girls and feel like our strongest, most confident selves. Movies like Matilda and Mulan, shows like Lizzie McGuire and The Secret World of Alex Mack, all made us feel like anything is possible. Like we were always enough. And a store like Claire’s? It gave us more than just “Best Friends” necklaces and bracelets and ear piercings. Claire’s gave us the independence and the autonomy we so craved. It felt like one of the few places made just for us, a place where we belonged and thrived, a place where we could feel completely safe and included.

Claire’s was one of the last original places that celebrated girlhood.

And now it’s leaving.

The memories I have of going to Claire’s as a little girl, and then a preteen and even a teen, are still some of my fondest. The racks of sparkly jewelry, the furry purses, the adorable charms to clip onto anything and everything — Claire’s was always the best place to go. Whether you had $5 of allowance money in your pocket or buckets of birthday cash to spend, you could find something in there.

And unlike shopping at even the kids’ section of Target or going into Gadzooks (RIP) or (heaven forbid) a Hot Topic, Claire’s was one of the few places where your parents weren’t policing you. Nobody was hovering over you to see what you were buying or telling you that something you chose was inappropriate or “too old” for you (the worst thing to hear).

Claire’s was a safe zone. A place created with your exact age in mind, a place where your parents knew you were going to come home with something cute that made you happy, and not some graphic tee of a sushi restaurant that said EAT IT RAW across the top. (American Eagle, you’ve got a lot to answer for in terms of early-aughts tees, I’m afraid.)

I always felt so grown-up going into Claire’s, because my parents felt comfortable with letting me wander the store on my own or with my friends. I knew what everything was in there; I understood all of the trends and the characters and the themes. I felt free to try out accessories I would’ve been intimidated by in other stores, like the fake glasses rage in the early 2000s.

I wasn’t surprised or made uncomfortable by anything on the shelves — unlike the things you’d find at Spencer’s when you really just wanted to look at lava lamps and framed posters that didn’t feature almost-naked Marilyn Manson.

Of course Claire’s was a corporation, and of course it cared about its revenue and bottom line every single day, but there was something about the store that felt like they cared about us, too. That in a world trying to convince us of the next new thing we needed, there was Claire’s, fully stocked with things that we not only wanted, but things that made us feel like ourselves. Mood rings that felt like they gave us power, yin-and-yang necklaces to share with our friends, neon diaries with locks to keep our secrets inside.

Claire’s let us be ourselves, let us find ourselves, and let us celebrate ourselves.

It breaks my heart that a space like that is going away.

A few nights ago, my oldest daughter fished out two halves of a “Best Friends” necklace and gave one to one of her two younger sisters. “Mommy, can you take us to Claire’s this weekend? We need a necklace set that includes three pieces so all of us can wear one,” she asked me.

She knows how special Claire’s is. Taking my three daughters there, where giant EVERYTHING MUST GO; STORE CLOSING signs hung in the windows, felt like a funeral for part of my childhood. And worse, a funeral for part of theirs.

Yes, there are other places I can take them to get necklaces and hair accessories. We’ve gone to Rowan for ear piercings; we’ve hit up PaperSource for stickers and stationery; we can find a million “Best Friends” necklaces at a million stores.

But nothing will ever beat the allure of a Claire’s storefront, of knowing you were absolutely going to find something you loved inside. Something that felt like it was created just for you.

Something that made you believe in yourself and the deep, magical power of girlhood.

Thanks for the memories, Claire’s. Thanks for the butterfly clips and the sticker earrings. Thanks for the Caboodles and eyeshadow, for the syrupy lip glosses and glitter body spray.

Thanks for being our safe place.