Carl Rogers

Carl Rogers

Copley/Prudential

As I ascend flight upon flight of escalators up to Copley Place, I feel myself being transported to another world—to a quiet and glamorous realm, safely perched several floors above the hustle and bustle of the streets below. I’m struck by just how conscious of a design effort the elevation changes present at each entrance/exit must have been, and by the message that they not-so-subtly convey—that Copley, and to some extent, the Pru, are elevated, literally “high” class spaces. The contrast in design materials as one descends from Copley into the Pru is marked: gone are the cool stone benches, glitzy gold-trimmed handrails and multicolored marble floors of Copley. While the Pru admittedly lacks some of the sophistication of its conjoined twin, this change is clearly intentional, and the Pru feels decidedly more welcoming as a result. Friendlier to weary shoppers than Copley’s skylit, centralized plaza approach which limited to benches and greenery primarily to one main area, wooden benches and potted plants dot the hallways of the Pru. In a single hallway, I count more benches than the total number I saw in all of Copley—a logical choice, given that the Pru appears to have far more shoppers than the almost prohibitively expensive Copley. The trio of security guards standing vigilantly at their posts throughout Copley also seems to have been reduced to one sole guard stationed by the Pru's entrance.

Newbury Street

Reminiscent of some of the sights common throughout the Pru and Copley, brightly lit brand names (albeit stuck to brownstones) and sale promotions littering both sides of the sidewalk announce that I have arrived at Newbury. Glancing above the throngs of people at the windows above the storefront to my left, I catch a glimpse of what I can only assume is someone watching TV in their apartment, and I find myself reminded of Newbury’s multiple identities and purposes. Vastly different from the lofty, secluded Copley, or even the Pru, Newbury is embedded into the city's fabric with T stops marking its length, blurring the lines between residential area, commercial center, and commuter thoroughfare. I move along the public street, weaving my way through groups of people who could be found on any other street in Boston—Newbury's dog walkers, homeless, and buskers, in contrast Newbury's meandering shoppers, however, would likely not be looked upon favorably by mall security in places like Copley or the Pru. Apart from its distinctly non-mall-like outdoor restaurant seating, Newbury also lacks benches of any kind, and shoppers in need of a rest need either walk to the bench-filled Commonwealth Mall to the north, or to pop down into any of Newbury's many cafés, inserted into spaces that must have once been Newbury's garden-level apartments.