The Store That "Twilight" Saved

I had forgotten that Hot Topic existed. The last time I ventured into that dark and gloomy corner of the mall was to secretly purchase incense and Marilyn Manson CDs in high school, which already dates me. I had relinquished my velvet chokers and leather cuffs for the perky, bright lights of Forever 21. I threw away my plaid flannel shirts. And then I read Twilight [2] and quickly became obsessed with the angsty vampire love story and the insanely good-looking actors who portray them on film. Reading about them wasn't enough. Watching them wasn't enough. I had to take my obsession to the next level. I had to shop.

Twilight T-shirts. Twilight hoodies. Twilight jewelry. Twilight lunch boxes. Twilight slap bracelets. Executives say Twilight has been their best-selling license in at least a decade. Bigger than Harry Potter [3], bigger than SpongeBob, bigger than Care Bears (which, in case you didn't know, are beloved by ironic happy goths). And all have been sold almost exclusively at a store that will enjoy its second wave of miraculous good luck starting today, when the film version of the second installment in the series, New Moon, hits theaters.

My Hot Topic phase came and went faster than you can say Nine Inch Nails—and, apparently, so did everyone else's. Over the past decade, Hot Topic's customer base has dwindled. The chain had carved out a niche for itself in the mall as the store for goths, loosely defined as anemic teenagers who dressed in black and listened to The Cure. It sold music, clothes, cheap accessories, and the idea that shopping at a national chain store in a suburban shopping mall could still be rebellious, so long as they turned the stereo up loud enough. It was the store that employed pierced young people, perhaps with dangerous-looking tattoos, who my mom was afraid to talk to. Truth be told, I was afraid to talk to them. But where else could I find colored laces for my Dr. Marten's?

Then fickle teenagers began gravitating toward more preppy styles, like Juicy Couture sweatsuits, or urban apparel such as designer sneakers. The economy boomed, and fashion felt flush. Girls aspired to be Carrie from Sex and the City [4]rather than Shirley Manson from Garbage. Hot Topic sales slumped, even losing money during some quarters. The chain tried to turn the tide by hiring young buyers to troll rock clubs for the latest styles, the newest bands. It offered up its stores as a performance space for local musicians. It painted the walls a lighter color in an effort to dispel its dark image. Nobody really noticed.

Then along came Twilight. The franchise was a perfect fit with what was left of Hot Topic's core customers. It accomplished what the store had tried but failed to do: It made goth mainstream. For those of you who have not yet been bitten, a brief synopsis of the plot: Awkward, neurotic Bella Swan (played by Kristen Stewart) falls in love with an excruciatingly handsome and even more neurotic vampire named Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson). Vampire must decide whether he really loves her or just wants to suck her tasty blood, while also competing for her affections with Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner), who happens to be a werewolf. Think Dracula [5] meets The Hills. [6]

Most of the dramatic tension in the series comes from the main characters trying not to be vampires and werewolves. This is mainly accomplished through fashion iconography: Pattinson's Edward is more tortured artist than menacing man-eater—thrillingly dangerous in his leather jacket and wrist cuff but not outright scary, making him total heartthrob material. In the books, Bella spends key scenes wearing holey T-shirts and tattered sweatpants, and her clothes are mainly mentioned to point out how shapeless they are. On film, that translated into ugly plaid button-downs and nondescript hoodies that any loner girl on the fringe of the cafeteria would recognize, a look that is conveniently easy to replicate and emulate. I briefly considered dressing up as Bella for Halloween but decided against it after a friend pointed out that I would actually be dressing down. The look is so ubiquitous, no one would know who I was supposed to be.

Shoppers have returned to Hot Topic in droves in search of Edward's baseball jersey or Bella's charm bracelet. And what they are realizing is that the stores, like the Cullens themselves, are a lot less frightening than they may have thought. Seven- and 8-year-olds have shown up at the stores to buy Twilight merchandise, only to find they're too little to fit into the clothes. Monthly sales at Hot Topic turned solidly positive for the first time in five years when the movie came out last fall, though now other retailers have joined the bandwagon. Wal-Mart, Nordstrom, and even Toys ‘R’ Us are hawking Twilight paraphernalia. But Hot Topic was first, and that gives it the most credibility.

Hot Topic CEO Betsy McLaughlin said the film's studio, Summit Entertainment, and the store approached each other simultaneously. (Coinciding brain waves from two dark corners of the earth?) The four Twilight novels were already best-sellers with a viciously loyal fan base who fit in with Hot Topic's demographic of emotionally tortured teens. And it jump-started the store’s faltering efforts to go mainstream.

McLaughlin thinks teenage trends run in roughly four-year cycles, as students enter and leave high school. Each class seeks a way to define themselves, she says. And for this cohort, tired of the designer-label excesses of their seniors, Twilight's melancholy aesthetic has struck a chord. Company executives say the divide is clear in their internal research: The No. 1 phrase that customers over the age of 16 use to describe the chain is "dark." The top adjective for those under 16 is "fun."

I am solidly in the over-16 set but ventured back into Hot Topic to see if I could find said fun. The New Moon merchandise crowded the front of the store. Edward stared broodingly out at me from a shirt bearing his heartbreaking quote, "You are my life now." That was kind of exciting. The hoodies were unisex and black. A cotton version of his leather cuff with the Cullen crest was on sale for 99 cents. Not a bad deal.

The rest of the store was sparsely stocked. The biggest shelf space was devoted to T-shirts with quirky slogans. ("Yes, I'm a banana and I'm happy to see you!”) The only other customer in the store was a woman who looked old enough to be my mom, although it was the middle of the day. I later saw her trolling the job fair at the mall. There was no sign of the anemics.

The one employee staffing the store—a burly guy with a lip ring and a dragon tattooed down his arm—reminded me of the old Hot Topic. I placed my purchases on the counter—the Cullen cuff and a Team Edward T-shirt—and braced myself to speak to him. He just looked at me wearily as he rang me up. Was it fun? Not really. But at least I can say that I wasn't scared.

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