Hoppus believes that most businesses that target teens come off as phony, condescending, or disrespectful. "Teenagers can tell that a commercial was written by some 45-year-old guy who just wants to sell them something," he says. Instead, teens want to buy from corporations that remind them of themselves. Randomly sticking actors wearing nose rings in a chewing-gum ad won't do the trick, he warns. Instead, the best marketing efforts help companies look less like slick megacorporations and more like unpolished, offbeat underdogs, he says. When Loserkids' professionally designed Web site was first rolled out, Hoppus notes, it had the clean, well-organized layout of an Amazon.com -- the kiss of death as far as he and DeLonge were concerned. They quickly had the site retooled to create a less earnest look that now features, for example, hundreds of snapshots of fans. "That's our version of branding," says Hoppus.
The girls fly past Abercrombie & Fitch. I express surprise, pointing out to my daughter that when I went clothes shopping with her some months before, she had wanted to go only to Abercrombie & Fitch. But the three girls give a communal shrug. "Only rich kids go there now," says one, noting that equally stylish clothes are available at other stores at lower prices. I notice, in fact, that whereas the store used to encase throngs of teenagers, it now looks mostly empty.
Blink-182 rule #2: Teens are fickle. Deal with it.
When it comes to being hot with teens, it's a matter of living by the sword and dying by the sword, according to Hoppus. "Kids want to see the envelope being pushed," he says. "You can't predict the cycles, but you know they're going to change. Everyone wants something different from what they had before."
Hoppus notes that some skateboard and accessories companies remain novel with teenagers by continually inventing new "companies" -- that is, new logos and color schemes that make it seem as if the products were being brought out by small start-up businesses. "They just start from ground zero," he says.
The pace of change is even faster for Web sites aimed at teens. Loserkids changes as often as some news sites. "It has to evolve," says Hoppus. "If they log in and see the same thing as a month ago, forget it. But the trick is to keep it fresh without being overwhelming or losing the instant recognition of who you are."
It has also not escaped Hoppus's notice that hot bands have a way of suddenly becoming yesterday's news. "We always have that fear of becoming unexciting," he says.
At the mall, I ask my daughter's friends how they feel about shopping with their parents. Not surprisingly, they tell me they prefer to shop without them, even though they usually get to spend more than three times as much money with their mothers in tow than without them -- more than $100, on average, versus $30 when they're on their own. "My mother makes me try on things that are ugly or cheap," explains one.
Blink-182 rule #3: Listen.
Even though most of us tend to think of teens as being opaque, the truth is, they're pretty open about what they want, notes Hoppus. The problem is often simply that adults don't listen. When it comes to teenagers and their buying practices, most parents don't want to be treated like blank checks, of course, so they are obligated to offer guidance. But what excuse do businesses have for not paying attention to what teens are asking for? "Generation Y can get whatever it wants at the snap of a finger," says Hoppus. "You'd better be ready to give it to them."
Even Hoppus -- who after all hasn't been a teenager for almost a decade -- says he works hard to stay on top of teens' interests; he talks with fans before every concert. "You don't have to be at their level; you just have to understand where they are and respect it," he says.
Hoppus concedes that some people have been out of touch with teens for so long that they aren't going to be able to understand kids' needs no matter how much time they put into the effort. "The sad thing is, we all had expertise in relating to teens at one time, but we chose to grow up," he says. "I still consider myself a kid, and that's not true of most 28-year-olds." His advice to business owners who have lost that youthful state of mind: hire someone who hasn't.
The three girls finally find a store in the mall that they say they really like -- a clothing store called Express. They suddenly seem very sophisticated to me as with furrowed brows they compare notes on the relative merits of various tank-top-support mechanisms. I look around; the store has an edgy, almost ironically glamorous aura to it, with pink neon lighting snaking across the mirrored ceiling, blown-up photos of twentysomething models, and a long row of blue-jeaned mannequin legs spinning in midair. I ask the girls whom they think this store is targeted to. They confer and tell me with some certainty that it's aimed at professional women in their early twenties. I look around again; everyone in the busy store looks to be about 15 or so, except me, a few mothers accompanying their daughters, and the sales help, who all look to be about 18. And then it hits me: the store is designed to embody a 15-year-old's idea of what a 25-year-old's hip clothing store would look like.
