Did Limited Too Invent Influencers?
Oh, this old thing? It's vintage Limited Too.
Today on Hot Girl Walk, I’m talking about influencers, and the nuance, history, and raging industry surrounding them. We’re dialing up the nostalgia in honor of Limited Too’s recent relaunch with some thoughts about my preteen obsession with the brand.
Last summer, the internet was abuzz with the news of a Limited Too relaunch, much to the delight of millennials. At first, I thought this meant the brand was evolving to design women’s clothing and capture its most loyal followers in their adult state, capitalizing on the resurgence of Y2K style. But alas, according to Women’s Wear Daily, they instead will target “Millennial moms, who will introduce the brand to their kids…the older side of Generation Alpha, specifically girls between the ages of 10 and 13.”
Limited Too is just one of many Y2K brands strategically using their millennial following to reinvent themselves. Most notably, Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, and Clarie’s have made comebacks that put them squarely back in the must-shop scene for many.
While I won’t rush to the mall to shop the new tween clothing line, the news reminded me of my days obsessing over the brand.
The first time I looked in the mirror and hated my appearance was before an elementary school choir concert. I felt dorky in every outfit I tried on, noticing my body in new ways I didn’t used to care about. It was the first time my mom taught me about the word confidence. That it was important to have.
In a moment of weakness, empathy, or an understanding of the long road ahead, my mom promised me that the next time we went to the mall, which was hours away from our rural small town, I could pick out a top and bottom of my choosing at Limited Too. Given the outrageous price tag on their clothing, this was a big deal. With stickers and notes flagging all of my favorites in the catzine, I’d lust after these items the way a New York socialite dreams about vintage Chanel.
At 9 years old, reading anything I could get my hands on. I rushed through math homework too fast, putting down any answer to finish the worksheet so I could turn it in and get back to my book, being told by teachers to slow down and think!
I preferred to escape into stories—fantasies, fiction, anything that could tell me how to be.
My favorite books were the Tuned In Series, novels I’d read in single sittings, anxiously awaiting the day I had enough allowance to buy the next. I was instantly taken with the story–Maddy Sparks meets three fun friends at the mall and gets the opportunity of a lifetime: to star as a model in Limited Too’s catalog photo shoot.
My cousin Rhea had been approached in the mall by a talent scout, and I can still recall her headshot with clarity. I looked at my face in the mirror, wondering if I’d ever get approached in the same way.
In my allotted computer time, I would research open casting calls, and ways to get on Disney Channel, begging my mom to help me become a star. Never mind that we were living in rural upstate New York at the time, or that I’ve never had a natural singing voice or acting abilities. I auditioned for elementary school plays and usually got an accessory role with only a few lines, but loved every minute of putting on makeup and costumes to walk out onto a well-lit stage, a taste of stardom.
It was my dream to get a modeling gig, no matter who it was for, but Limited Too was THE brand I idolized, making the books that much more enticing, like a peek behind the curtain into my fantasy life.
Limited Too strategically introduced the idea of influencers long before the term existed, seamlessly integrating lifestyle content into their marketing through catalogs, print pieces, and my personal favorite, books.
From a business standpoint, Limited Too was desperate for a home run in the brand loyalty department. In 1998, Limited Too had less than 1% of the market share for specialty apparel retail stores. A slice of a slice of a slice. They appointed Scott Bracale as their VP of Marketing and tasked him with creating a mail-order catalog for the brand, something they hoped would give Limited Too a more solid stake in the market.
He created the “catzine,” which advertised not only clothing, but an inspirational aesthetic and lifestyle to support it. Part catalog, part magazine, the publication highlighted sparkly outfits to wow at your next birthday party, and subtle ways to attract your crush. With tips on things like how to wear a bra, the Limited Too catalog felt like a bible for puberty, telling me exactly what I needed to do to “make it” as a cool girl.
It was everything I needed to tell me how to be.
If the catzine wasn’t enough, the Tuned In series produced thirteen books between 2003 and 2005, where the characters embark on a variety of Limited Too-sponsored adventures, including countless more photo shoots.
“The merchandising of the [book] series is a natural extension of providing our customer more selection than she’s ever seen before in one place,” Bracale said after the first book’s launch.
By 2008 Limited Too had over 1100 stores in 22 countries, and was ranked in the top tenth percentile among all specialty apparel retail. They sold their merch for women-in-training with catalogs full of tween push-up bras and t-shirts with slogans like, “Buy Now, Tell Dad Later!” and “I Left My Brain in My Locker.”
I couldn’t get enough. I’d wait for the catalog to arrive every month, cutting out my favorite outfits and taping them to my closet walls. I read the books in one sitting, sketching outfit ideas in a nearby notebook as I read. Part of it was a love of fashion, but another (perhaps larger) part was feeling insecure, uncool, and in need of validation from a brand that promised to make me “cool.”
As Max Fisher explains in The Chaos Machine, “[We] process social ostracism as, quite literally, pain. Being shunned hurts for the same reason that a knife piercing your skin hurts: you have evolved to experience both as mortal threats.”
To intensify things further, “Adolescents have a stronger drive to socialize than adults, which manifests as a heavier use of social networks and a greater sensitivity to what happens there.”
When your ability to shapeshift into something people like is rewarded, it begins to feel like the only thing you know how to do well. And when fitting in is rewarded with real, life-changing money and access, it’s incredibly difficult to say no.
Evolutionarily, we’ve been primed to gravitate toward influencers. Studies consistently find that “our sense of right or wrong is heavily, if unconsciously, influenced by what we believe our peers think…most of the time deducing our peers’ moral views is not so easy. So we use a shortcut. We pay special attention to a handful of peers whom we consider to be influential, take our cues from them, and assume this will reflect the norms of the group as a whole” (190).
It makes sense that in 2023, one in four members of Gen Z want to become an influencer, and 27.33% report that after high school they plan to do so.
Who wouldn’t want to be chosen, a thousand times over, at every moment of the day?
Next week, I’m talking more about influencers. Particularly, baby influencers. Ciao!
