Behind the century-old Central Post Office — one of Saigon’s most iconic landmarks — a small commercial space called The Box Market has recently opened, sparking lively debate. Between fears of “commercializing heritage” and hopes of reviving a forgotten historical site, a question emerges: can commerce and culture coexist, or even complement each other to help the past live on in today’s urban rhythm?
The GPO Building in Melbourne, once the city’s historic General Post Office, has undergone a successful process of adaptive reuse to become a vibrant retail space.
Behind the Central Post Office, right next to the Book Street, a new commercial area called The Box Market has just opened, drawing significant public attention. Many cultural researchers and Saigon lovers express concern that this project might diminish the historical and cultural integrity of a century-old landmark. Yet, from another perspective, if planned with care and vision, this could be a bold move — an effort to breathe new life into heritage, allowing more people to access, connect with, and appreciate this historical space.
A heritage site only truly lives when people come, interact, and bring their daily life into it. For years, the Central Post Office has remained one of Saigon’s most beloved symbols, yet its rear courtyard has been largely neglected — underused, worn down, and lacking basic amenities. Tourists often stop only briefly to take photos before leaving, though the area could easily become a vibrant cultural–commercial space linking the Post Office and the Book Street into one cohesive, lively district. Thus, the opening of The Box Market, if done thoughtfully, could be the key to reviving this historical complex — not just preserving it in memory, but making it part of Saigon’s living culture again.
Concerns about “commercializing” heritage are not unfounded. But commerce is not necessarily the enemy of culture. In cities rich in history such as Madrid, Galle, or Glasgow, the adaptive reuse of old structures into spaces for commerce, gastronomy, and art has been remarkably successful — creating new symbols of urban identity. The Mercado de San Miguel in Madrid, for instance, is a restored iron-and-glass market from over a century ago that now serves as a culinary landmark attracting visitors worldwide. The Old Dutch Hospital in Galle, Sri Lanka — once a colonial-era hospital — has been transformed into a shopping and dining precinct while keeping its stone walls, tiled roofs, and timber corridors intact. In Poland, the Manufaktura textile factory complex from the 19th century has been reborn as a cultural and commercial hub, preserving its signature red-brick façades. And in Glasgow, the 19th-century Princes Square was covered with a transparent glass roof, turning it into a modern retail center while retaining its classical exterior.
A particularly relevant example can be found in Australia. The GPO Building in Melbourne, once the city’s historic General Post Office, has undergone a successful process of adaptive reuse to become a vibrant retail space. The fashion brand H&M now occupies part of the building’s façade and main floor, while the original architecture and façade have been meticulously preserved, maintaining the integrity and grandeur of the structure. This transformation demonstrates that when commercial development respects the architectural essence of a heritage site, the result can be both economically viable and culturally enriching.
These examples show that when done with respect and intention, commerce can become a bridge between the past and the present. Commerce does not destroy heritage — disrespect does. The real question is not what is being sold, but how it is sold, how the space is preserved, and what attitude people bring into it.
For The Box Market, what matters most is to preserve the original structure of the area behind the Post Office — never altering its form, tearing down walls, or expanding the historic framework. The first priority should be restoration and care: repaint faded walls, fix leaks, repave the ground, add greenery, lighting, and consistent signage. Another seemingly small but crucial detail is the public restroom system — it should be upgraded to be clean, fragrant, and welcoming. When these basic comforts are met, visitors will naturally stay longer, explore deeper, and connect more authentically with the historic space.
If commerce here is curated with taste — prioritizing handicrafts, cultural products, art, local cuisine, or Vietnamese gifts — The Box Market can become a platform for cultural expression rather than a threat to it. After all, markets have always been part of culture: places where people exchange not only goods, but also memories, stories, flavors, and traditions. A small market beside Saigon’s Post Office could be a place where visitors buy a handmade souvenir, listen to live acoustic music on a weekend afternoon, and admire French colonial architecture glowing under warm lights. That is how culture lives — not sealed away in silence, but alive and breathing.
Every city needs spaces that carry the soul of the past while opening doors to the future. To keep everything frozen in time is not preservation, but paralysis. True conservation means respecting the old spirit while giving it a chance to adapt. When commerce operates within a cultural framework — when spaces are cared for and when people feel the sincerity in every detail — commerce becomes a natural part of heritage, not a threat to it.
Perhaps what Saigon needs is not fear every time a new project emerges, but the subtlety in execution — the wisdom to preserve the old soul amid modern life. The Box Market could become a “blemish” if done poorly, but it could also become a “new signature” if executed with understanding and respect. Because heritage truly lives only when people come — with laughter, light, and life. And when a historical space can still touch the hearts of people today, that is preservation — in its most natural and sustainable form.
