The memory wall in Shirokiya is something to behold.

On different colored sticky notes and odd bits of paper taped to the wall, people have left offerings of simple, powerful words to honor the store that isn’t actually closing, but is definitely moving on to a new era.

“Will always remember warm chestnuts with my grandfather,” someone wrote in ballpoint script.

“Bought a clock radio in 1985 and it still works!” someone else scribbled.

Shirokiya has become folksy, relaxed and family-friendly — a place where you can push a stroller and point out interesting things to amuse a fussy baby, or sit grumpy grandpa down at a table while you gather up his favorite foods that remind him of his youth.

There was a time in the 1970s and ’80s when a visit to Shirokiya was more like “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” — a nose-to-the-glass glimpse at a world of glossy perfection (without the Mickey Rooney weirdness). People tell stories of going to the mall in rubber slippers and shorts only to be ignored by the Shiseido-lacquered Shirokiya salesclerks in dark blue dresses and pearl brooches. It was not the kind of store you would run through to grab a few things on the way home from the beach, all sandy-legged and salty-haired. No, you wanted to prepare a bit to shop at shiny Shirokiya. Pick an outfit. Wear nice shoes.

Of course, there have been many phases in a store than traces its lineage back for centuries.

“Originally opened as a dry goods store in Tokyo … in August 1662 by Hikotaro Omura, Shirokiya boasts a 350-year history of growth and changes,” the store’s website says. “Through earthquake, fire, and economic downturn, Shirokiya has endured.”

The current noisy mix of massage chairs, grooming products, a clowder of maneki nekos and that fabulous food court will close tomorrow.

In two months Shirokiya will reopen as a “Japan Village Walk” on the Ewa side of Ala Moana Center with a bigger store, beer stations and a performance space.

If a sassy grad student were so inclined, I suppose there’s a dissertation to be found here — how the evolution of Shirokiya mirrors the socioeconomic status of Hawaii Japanese. Or how Shirokiya reflects Hawaii’s and America’s relationship with Japan. Or something. Everything is a metaphor if you throw enough big words at it to make the connection.

But in the simplest of terms, the end of the most recent incarnation of Shirokiya has people sweetly nostalgic for the sorts of tangibles and intangibles that really never go out of style:

“The best place to hang out with my friends. Takoyaki plus friends equals love.”

“Spending time with Grandpa and Grandma doing wandering around for no reason.”

“My first love for Japanese toys.”

“Bringing all the girls here to shop! My daughters, my mother and her friend. Love the memories.”

“Getting presents for my sisters going to college.”

“From small-kid time till now. I’m 63 now.”

Reach Lee Cataluna at 529-4315 or lcataluna@staradvertiser.com.