It's fair to say that the singer-songwriter who calls herself Gwendolyn never thought her band, the Goodtime Gang, would appeal to anyone over the age of, say, 7. A typical performance includes covers of the preschool standards Bingo and The Itsy Bitsy Spider and original compositions that tackle topics like human anatomy, the importance of sharing and bugs.
So it was with some surprise that Gwendolyn, who is 28 and performs in a Raggedy Ann dress, cartoonish pigtails and knee-high socks, found herself one recent evening in a packed Los Angeles nightclub performing for a crowd of fans whose idea of a stiff drink extends beyond undiluted orange juice. Many in the audience sat cross-legged on the floor, cocktails perched on bobbing knees. Some sang along.
"All the inner children of these adults are suddenly speaking up and saying, `Hey wait -- what about us?'" she said. "`It's our turn to have some fun.'"
From childless fans of kiddie music to the grown-up readers of Harry Potter, inner children are having fun all over. Whether they are buying cars marketed to consumers half their age, dressing in baby-doll fashions or bonding over games like Twister and kickball, a new breed of quasi adult is co-opting the culture of children as never before. Most have busy lives with adult responsibilities, respectable jobs and children of their own. They are not stunted adolescents. They are something else: grown-ups who cultivate juvenile tastes in products and entertainment. Call them rejuveniles.
Celebrated by market researchers and fretted over by social scientists, rejuveniles come in all ages but are mostly a product of the urban upper classes (free time and disposable income being essential in their lifestyle). Evidence of their presence is widespread. According to Nielsen Media research, more adults 18 to 49 watch the Cartoon Network than watch CNN. Fuzzy pajamas with attached feet come in adult sizes at Target, along with Scooby-Doo underpants. The average age of video game players is now 29, up from 18 in 1990, according to the Entertainment Software Association. Hello Kitty's cartoon face graces toasters. Sea Monkeys come in an executive set.
No single word has emerged to describe the phenomenon, but a few phrases in the marketing lexicon describe some of its aspects. The San Francisco advertising firm Odiorne Wilde Narraway & Partners calls the resurgence of retro brands among 18- to 34-year-olds "Peterpandemonium." Toymakers now take aim at "kidults," defined by the Italian company Kidult Games as "adults who take care of their kid inside." Researchers at the MacArthur Foundation are studying "adultolescents," those 20- and 30-somethings who live at home and still depend on their parents for emotional and financial support.
While some marketers court rejuveniles directly -- "Who knew you and your daughter would have the same best friend?" asked an advertisement for a revived line of Strawberry Shortcake dolls -- others speak to the rejuvenile soul by simply selling to kids.
While there is nothing new about adults reveling in kiddie culture -- Shirley Temple, Roald Dahl and Pee Wee Herman all had plenty of adult fans -- market researchers say an especially strong wave of childishness began about two years ago. Milk and cookies, macaroni and cheese and meatloaf began appearing on the menus of highchair-free restaurants. Puma, Converse and Keds sneakers leapt from the schoolyard set to the fashion-conscious crowd. And then there is Harry Potter, whose cross-generational popularity prompted the British publisher Bloomsbury to release an edition of the books with so-called grown-up covers. (Adult-friendly kid titles are listed in Booklist, the trade magazine, under "Crossovers: Children's Books for Adults.")
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