The Dayton's Project
Close your eyes and imagine—it’s December 1967. You’re standing at the corner of Nicollet Mall and 7th Street, where snow is falling over the pine-green Dayton’s marquee. As you near the building, the air shifts. Bells chime, holiday tunes swirl, and the cityscape disappears as holiday characters invite you into a village of tales and memories. The line throngs eight floors up the escalator—families, children, and spirited holiday shoppers all clamoring for the chance to glimpse one of downtown Minneapolis’ most anticipated holiday traditions—Dayton’s annual eighth-floor holiday show.
Those who remember Dayton’s window and holiday displays know what a beacon of light the building once was to downtown Minneapolis—illuminating both its retail activity and its collective holiday spirit.
“For many years—for decades—it was hard to find someone who didn’t have some sort of connection to Dayton’s. Either they went to see the holiday shows, they did their holiday shopping there, or they worked there. It was very much a part of the community,” says Kate Hujda, Senior Curator of Manuscripts at Minnesota Historical Society.
The tradition began in 1963 with “Santa’s Enchanted Forest,” sparking decades of imaginative storytelling and retelling—from “A Christmas Carol” and “The Nutcracker” to a landmark staging of “Harry Potter.” (Dayton’s famously became the first organization to visualize the book series in 2000.) Its heyday came in the late ’80s, when set designer Jack Barkla and costume designer Jack Edwards—fondly remembered as “the Jacks”—took to the reins.
“Edwards and Barkla really took these shows to the next level, playing off the high-fashion, luxury appeal of Dayton’s,” says Hujda. “And the best part was, all of the shows were free and open to the public, which is kind of amazing when you think about it.”
A Past Reimagined
Today, it’s difficult to imagine this level of in-person retail engagement. Of family’s packing up the car to spend an entire day downtown, shopping, dining, and frolicking through Dayton’s enchanting displays—as if it were Minneapolis’s own Disneyland.
“Walking into that store was a pure experience,” says local creative director and former Dayton’s employee Grant Whittaker. “I worked in the furniture area and during the holidays, we would turn the entire department into a holiday Wonderland. It was really pretty magical.”
In the years surrounding Dayton’s rebrand to Marshall Fields (1990) and eventually, acquisition by Macy’s (2005), the magic of the holiday shows began to dwindle, retail activity migrated largely online, and eventually, the building that Dayton’s once occupied closed its doors (2017). It exists today as a mixed-use development known as The Dayton’s Project.
“It was hard to see it go,” says Hujda. “Dayton’s was just as much of a community gathering space as it was a retailer. Somewhere you could go and see these shows, hear the pianist play Christmas music, do your holiday shopping.”
In the years since, the nostalgia for Dayton’s holiday dreamscape has only grown stronger, and Whittaker—among other members of Minneapolis’ retail scene—refuses to let the community pillar perish.
Last January, Whittaker reawakened the building’s past with his self-produced event, Opening Windows. Within the same walls that once contained the Jacks’ holiday fantasies, show girls leaped in feathered headdresses; models walked the runway in luxury couture; and local leaders—past and present—were honored across Andy Warhol-inspired window displays, narrating the depth and persistence of downtown’s retail legacy.
“The pure goal was to honor people who had been in retail [downtown] and share their stories. The end effect was that we filled windows all the way along Nicolet mall, where there had previously been nothing,” says Whittaker. “I wanted to remind people that there was retail here—and if you tell these stories, maybe we’ll have a new existence of that again.”
The Scout Guide
Legacy Through the Windows
Market curator Mich Berthiaume shares a similar vision of restoring activity along this once-golden stretch. Her self-curated Dayton’s Holiday Market occupies the previously vacant building each holiday season, uniting over 100 local makers and artisans, including a nostalgic Dayton’s-branded merchandise booth that sells heritage favorites like the Santa Bear.
For its fourth season last December, the market brought the nostalgia a step further, featuring a gingerbread-inspired holiday window display by MartinPatrick3, titled, “Land of 10,000 Sweets.”
“I think we have to do things like this—honor these traditions of being able to window shop and just look at things,” says Whittaker. “If we’re only looking at visuals on our phones, that means city blocks like this are going to continue to go away.”
As another holiday season fills The Dayton’s Project with markets, displays, and echoes of its golden past, Whittaker hopes the energy will extend beyond December.
“I think there’s a time and place where people just want the nostalgia of things, but it’s bigger than that. I would love for people to be able to walk from the North Loop to Nicollet Mall and feel like there were holiday activations, engaging moments, things that drew them in.”
In 2026, Whittaker plans to revive Dayton’s (and later Macy’s) iconic Glamorama event, a fashion fundraiser that united the city around a shared passion for art and philanthropy. It’s the start of a long-anticipated renaissance—one meant to weave Dayton’s storied past into a future where downtown is filled with life again. Where busy shoppers pause on the snowy streetside, transported—if just for a moment—to an era where holiday shopping was not just a credit card swipe or an Amazon shipment, but a shared ritual of wonder, community, and tradition.
The Dayton's Project
