As a '90s teen and NE Portland native, I was a frequent visitor to The Lloyd Center. I have an ingrained sensory memory of its sounds and smells. If I close my eyes, I can recreate walking through its halls as though my teenage world still exists in this exact moment. To this day, I bet I could direct someone to Cinnabon or Meier & Frank if they were lost.
I remember the feeling of independence in this large, friendly space bustling with locals. It was the primary spot for friends' birthday parties and weekend outings. I got my first ballet slippers there, my prom dress, and it was where my young, innocent romances took place. Where I held hands for the first time as we walked from store to store.
During the holiday season, it brightened even more with activity. Instead of ordering online, people would dedicate entire weekends to shopping and hanging out at The Lloyd. I remember buying my first dragon candle at Gifts From Afar. It was my favorite store to get lost in, with its overwhelming smells of waxy oils.
Arguably, the most unique part of The Lloyd Center was the ice skating rink. A physical activity for young and old alike, it was a prime destination during the holidays. There was something so special about walking through the mall and seeing families and peers skating together. I can still sense the unique chill that created an aura around the ice, cooling you from the effort of shopping. I remember people leaning against the rink walls, cheering on friends and strangers as they circled the ice together.
We have all seen the decline of these spaces. I agree that capitalism isn't great, but there was so much more than shopping that was happening at the mall. It was a connection. It was pick-me-ups at Joe Brown's Carmel Corn and Billy Heartbeat's Diner. It was the feeling of getting older as I bought my first woven plastic choker at Spencer's. It was a destination for everyone, whether I was with my grandmother or stalking a crush. It was simply a place I could go.
Similarly, Yoga Bhoga on Water Avenue was a place I could go. It was formative for my pre-kids adult self. I vividly remember walking into my first class, feeling a bit disoriented and unsure where to put my shoes. It wasn't fancy. Just one simple room with rainbow-colored curtains and the unique smell of mat cleaner (which we still use today). There was a feeling of simple connection that was magical. No bells and whistles or fancy music to entertain us. It was through that simplicity that I have experienced some of my most profound growth. I've only ever hoped to recreate that kind of magic in its newer form as The Practice Space. Providing something tried and true. Something grounded.
I don't know what it was like to run a business back then, but I know for certain that people had little choice but to show up. Amazon wasn't an option, so we went to the mall. Online classes didn't exist, so going to a yoga studio, or buying a book from Barnes & Noble at The Lloyd, was how we experienced these practices. In so many ways, the "inconveniences" is what enabled our communities to create memories together.
We had to be in space together.
From what I hear, The Practice Space has an increasingly good reputation. So when I look at our actual data I feel a bit confused. As we enter the last two months of this year, I'm paying extra close attention to our attendance and the long-term sustainability. Like many small businesses, we experience fluctuations, and those fluctuations have the potential of hitting really hard. I frequently ask myself, what more can I do to keep this space steady, reliable, always here?
With each fluctuation over the past decade I have been flexible and responded with as much wisdom as I have inside me. I have discounted, promoted, adapted, and shown up again and again. But the capitalistic reality is that I cannot create a community without people coming together. A good reputation does not guarantee survival or pay the bills. What sustains a place like ours is actual participation. People walking through the doors, showing up for classes, and making this space part of their daily lives.
The Lloyd Center's decline is an important reminder that nothing is permanent. If we stop visiting and stop supporting the places we love, there is no promise they will still be there if we choose to return someday. The Lloyd Center was an enormous space to have close but there are also little losses happening everywhere. Places where neighbors gathered simply because that was what you did. Places that didn't require an invitation or a special occasion. Places where you could just show up weekly or even daily for connection.
Like I said, I don't know what it was like to run a small business in Portland back then, but I know what it's like today, and it isn't getting easier. Costs continue to rise, and the way people engage with local businesses is shifting. It requires constant creativity, adaptation, and a willingness to keep trying new things. I am willing to do all of that but I need the help of the community. Because when I think about our business, I'm not thinking about next month or even next year. I'm thinking about the future of all practice spaces.
I want spaces for practice to be here for generations to come.
So, in honor of The Lloyd Center and the community spaces that shape us, we're bringing back our retro rate even earlier this year. For the final two months of 2026, mat classes are just $10. They expire in 12 months. Buy as many as you want. The sale starts November 1st.
And just so we can keep this reminder with us a little longer, I've created a tribute T-shirt with a Practice Space twist on The Lloyd Center's original logo. It's a little piece of Portland nostalgia, and a reminder to get out of the house, be with people, and make some memories with us. Because the secret is in your dedicated practice.
The spaces we love can only exist if we continue to use them.
