When I was growing up, going to the mall with my sister was the highlight of my week. There was the boba shop where I always ordered Thai tea, the tiger on the carousel I rode as a kid, and the Macy’s sales rep that helped me redecorate my college bedroom. From age five to 19, the mall was my safe space.
The idea of the “third place,” sometimes called a third space, comes from American sociologist Ray Oldenburg, who introduced it in his 1989 book The Great Good Place. Oldenburg believed that a fulfilling life depends on a balance between three realms: the home, the workplace, and a third place, somewhere people return to regularly for connection and conversation. For many of us growing up, that place was the mall. It was a low-barrier spot to go after school or work, and it brought both familiarity and excitement to everyday life.
According to Psychology Today, third places matter because they create repeated, low-stakes contact that keeps people from becoming isolated. Between 2019 and 2021, however, third places became less accessible as the pandemic confined people to their homes. Malls, cafes, and other gathering spots sat empty and took on the eerie quality of “liminal spaces,” leaving brands to wonder what would become of them.
By 2024, rising rents had left many community spaces vacant, and cities began working to bring them back. According to The Independent, businesses also got more creative with how they designed and used their spaces. Vital Climbing Gym, for example, is a place to work out, get work done at their coffee shop, and even grab a cocktail with friends during select hours. Since then, the third place has shifted toward a “pay-to-play” model, where modern third spaces require you to buy something or pay a membership fee to enjoy them. To lower that barrier, people have turned to TikTok to promote free book clubs, run clubs, and even apartment dinner parties as ways to meet new people.
The Wharton Retail Club has argued that pop-up events thrive within third places, operating inside them while remaining separate entities. That raises the question: can a temporary space be a third place on its own? Traditional third places depend on regulars, yet many have become highly curated and expensive.
Demand for these spaces hasn’t gone away. In a July article on community as the new currency, Forbes reported that third spaces are being intentionally rebuilt and called community building one of the hottest trends of 2026. Gen Z in particular is driving that demand, but it is also wary of commitment. Research on membership behavior has found that Gen Z professionals expect value from a membership early on and are less willing to commit to something without immediate, tangible results.
Pop-ups fill that gap. Even in a short run, they can transport you into another world and offer the sense of safety people are looking for. Sometimes that world is nostalgic, especially when it belongs to a brand you associate fond memories with. In addition, they offer a sense of community without locking you into a lifestyle and they let people discover somewhere new without traveling far. Temporary as they are, pop-ups may be serving people as third spaces more than ever before.
Beyond Yoga, for example, opened a 2,300-square-foot pop-up shop in the Flatiron District in September, its biggest presence in New York to date. Open through early January 2027, the shop sells exclusive NYC merchandise and hosts weekend movement classes led by local instructors and studios. Similarly, Shinsegae’s HYPER GROUND, a Korean beauty pop-up, opened on Oct. 2 at The Shops at Hudson Yards, bringing more than 30 brands to New York. The temporary storefront is open through Dec. 31 and hosts weekly events.
It’s fitting that HYPER GROUND landed inside of a mall. The places that once served as my third space are now borrowing a pop-up’s sense of novelty to bring people back. Pop-ups may never fully replace the boba shop where the cashier knew my order or the carousel that still stands at my local mall today. But these temporary storefronts may be the closest thing we have to a mall on a weeknight, and offer us a place to go with no reason necessary.
