This might seem like a counsel of despair. But if there is not the political will or strength on the part of those in public office to restore something like social order, I am happy to go along with those who provide it merely as a by-product (sometimes, beyond the call of duty: MetroCentre has its own chapel). As things are, many of the people who disdain the shopping malls are in certain respects the very same who have spent years chipping away at notions of social restraint, who have disarmed the authority of law enforcement and caused a crisis in the social fabric - who, in short, have done for the traditional public arena they claim to value so much. Perhaps the results of what were, for such people, nice ideas on paper, are finally confronting them via a brick through the sash window.

But that's enough about social cohesion. What about the aesthetics of these places? Aren't they just simply awful, with their airport glitziness, insidious and banal muzak and antiseptic marble floors? As Stephen Tennant once said when asked about the First World War: "My dear, the people! And the noise!" Well, I am perfectly happy with all this too, most of the time. The walkways are getting wider and wider and the ceilings higher and higher. The corridors at MetroCentre are positively cosy and cramped when compared to the meadows of space at Westfield. The embellishments - which at Bluewater include famous poetic quotes engraved into the walls and the sculptured coats of arms of each of the guilds represented at London Guildhall - are nothing like as coercive and dreary as your average piece of "locally-inspired" (that is, by committee) public art. Malls tend too to be big on Christmas decorations. It is popular taste through and through, and I have a tendency to get sentimental when I see it being enjoyed.

In this respect, are malls not simply the modern-day heirs to the gin palaces and extravagantly ornate cinemas of the past, those places that gave a sense of occasion to ordinary pastimes for people who otherwise, in their day-to-day lives, had little access to luxury or some sort of splendour? Places which, in an odd way, flattered their paying customers by bothering to provide them with elaborate surroundings? It is no wonder to me that groups of kids are drawn to them as places in which to gather. Their expanses of cheap restaurants are neon-lit and colourful, the seats at their cinemas usually cheaper, the sense of an aimless afternoon browsing then giving way to an evening's entertainment palpable. The same popular ethic is at work in the major stores that form the "anchors" to all malls. Marks and Spencer has food outlets on every high street in the country, but it is in malls that its version of the food hall can be seen at its best. They are an aesthetic pleasure even for those not shopping. It is one of the very best examples of popular capitalism at work.