My grandmother’s happiest place was David Jones

The woman behind the David Jones beauty counter could make buying a lipstick feel like a special occasion. You sat down; let her help you find the right shade and went home with something you would carefully put on before going out.

Perhaps she introduced you to your first proper skincare routine. Years later, you might still have been returning to the same counter, asking for the same woman.

There was a particular glamour attached to being the Estée Lauder girl or working behind the Lancôme counter. These women knew their products, and their customers came to trust them. For many of us, they were our first introduction to beauty beyond whatever our mothers kept in the bathroom cabinet.

My mother-in-law has spent more than 20 years working on cosmetics counters. She has helped customers find the right shade and husbands buy their wife’s favourite fragrance – often knowing which one it is before they do. She has talked people through skincare concerns, sometimes starting with what a night moisturiser is and why they might use one. She also knows most peoples secrets, women will reveal almost anything to their most trusted Estee Lauder lady.

In my family, David Jones is lore.

We borrowed Holly Golightly’s affection for Tiffany’s in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and applied it to DJs. As Audrey Hepburn’s character put it: “nothing very bad could happen to you there.”

My aunt, Elizabeth Kelly, remembers my grandmother feeling much the same way.

“Mum used to always say she never failed to feel happy when she walked onto the floor of David Jones.”

I understand exactly what she meant.

When I first moved away from home, I would walk through David Jones Canberra Centre, just to feel connected to something familiar. My favourite department was crockery, with its rows of Royal Albert tea sets and Wedgwood dinnerware. I could happily spend an afternoon admiring Kate Spade trinkets I had absolutely no need for.

Being there reminded me of shopping with my family. I didn’t have to buy anything to feel a little closer to home.

My grandmother’s attachment was lifelong. She would catch the train from Singleton to meet her friends under the big clock at Central Station before heading to the Elizabeth Street store. If David Jones didn’t have it, she didn’t want to know about it.

On Boxing Day, she had my grandfather drive her to the Wollongong store at 6am so she could sit in the mall waiting for the sales to start. I believe she may also have been the person in Australia who returned the most things to David Jones as she used to take home 2-3 sizes to try and home knowing full well she could just pop back up to town the next day to swap them over.

My aunt remembers the planning involved.

“Should we go to the Oroton handbags or the shoes first?”

Then they had to work out how quickly they could get to the Sheridan sheets. These were serious decisions.

Whenever we went shopping with Grandma, we stopped at the David Jones café for a spinach and ricotta roll and a cup of tea, served in David Jones’ finest.

I couldn’t tell you what we bought on most of those visits. I remember sitting there with her and the excitement of a girls shopping trip.

My own connection began before I was born. Mum was due to have me around the half-yearly sales and was very happy I arrived the day after they started. She had managed to get some shopping in first.

Later, I would go with her and my sisters after school while she tried on clothes for work. This was when she treated herself. We would look through Veronika Maine and Cue, then make our way to the Country Road counter.

I loved watching her try on those beautiful dresses, imagining that one day I would be older, have a real job and able to afford them too.

My sister remembers buying her Clarks platform school shoes at DJs in the ’90s, sitting up on that raised seat to have them fitted and feeling oh-so-special. Even buying school shoes felt like an occasion.

David Jones has also employed an impressive proportion of my family. My husband worked there after leaving school, spending time in Christmas trim and kitchenware as well as electronics. His knowledge of vacuum cleaners dates back to those days.

My brother-in-law was employed there for a while along with my mum and aunt.  worked there too. We have a decades long relationship with the brand.

At the time of publication David Jones has entered voluntary administration and receivership, although its stores are continuing to trade while its future is reviewed. It is unclear what the future of the department store will be, but the decisions made about its future will help shape the Australian retail landscape.

The generations who remember the department store at its best are dwindling. With them, we risk losing an appreciation for the kind of shopping that made a visit to David Jones something to look forward to.

The business began as a Sydney drapery store in 1838. Its Elizabeth Street store opened in 1927, with beauty salons and a restaurant overlooking Hyde Park. An art gallery followed in 1944.

Over that long history, the familiar black-and-white houndstooth has become attached to some very personal purchases. A first expensive dress, perhaps, or a tiny onesie chosen after finding out a baby was on the way.

Some readers will still have wedding presents selected from the gift registry. Others will remember going in with their mothers, then taking their own children years later.

For me, Christmas has always been a favourite. I have spent many afternoons wandering through the decorations, special trips to Sydney for the Christmas window reveals and looking at beautiful things and imagining where they might go at home.

I know affection alone cannot sustain a department store. The way we shop has changed enormously. Australia Post’s 2026 eCommerce Report puts Australian online spending at $82.6 billion in 2025, up 14 per cent on the previous year.

Convenience matters, especially when time and money are tight. A business with a long history still must find its place in the way people live now.
I hope David Jones can do that.

Along with the staff, Australian suppliers may also face uncertainty. A substantial department store order can help make a seasonal range viable, with smaller independent stockists benefiting from that same production run.

If stores close, neighbouring retailers could feel the effects too. The relationships behind a department store reach further than most of us see when we walk through the doors.

This Christmas, it’s important that we think about where we are spending our money.

Where we can, we can put more of it back into Australian businesses by choosing an independent retailer rather than automatically buying from the big giants. Shopping online can still mean buying an Australian brand directly or supporting an Australian stockist.

We won’t always have the budget or the choice. When we do, spending with Australian businesses can help keep them here for the next generation.