In many ways, it seems fitting that Party City was founded in 1986, a year when millennials were starting to be birthed in full force (with none of that “xennial” bullshit being at play after 1983). For there’s no denying that the baby boomer parent’s need to lavish their children with parties in a way that they weren’t by their own parents helped contribute to the early success of the store. A store that began as a single location in, of all places, East Hanover Township, New Jersey. But hey, who says New Jersey doesn’t know how to party? In fact, one could argue that the population has to party in order to cope with all the bad stereotypes.
Started by Steve Mandell, who, like any good businessperson, saw a void in a certain market (in this case, the party goods one) and decided to fill it, it didn’t take long at all for the concept—that is, establishing a “superstore,” of sorts, for all things “party”—to take off. To the point where, just three years into its existence, Mandell was already agreeing to offer franchising options for the store, eager to help others cash in on the previously untapped “goldmine.” By the time the early nineties rolled around, the store was well underway to becoming the major juggernaut/party player it would become known for being to many who came to depend on it not just for party décor and other “festive” goods, but for Halloween costumes as well. In fact, it took Mandell only a year to understand that a large part of the store’s focus should be on peddling Halloween costumes and décor, with this element making up for a quarter of the business’ sales year-round at its peak. As Mandell remarked, “I never expected Halloween to be anything like it. After my first year in the business, I said, ‘Wow!’”
Though perhaps he could have been given an early inkling of the success that would come from such a so-called niche focus by looking at Spirit Halloween, which was founded in 1983, three years before Party City. But, in contrast to Spirit, which thrives on the “gimmick” of being impermanent and moveable (an OG “pop-up store,” if you will), always switching locations and only emerging during the (ever-lengthening) Halloween season, Party City was consistently there, fixed at whatever shopping center it had signed a lease with. And that would become its bane rather than its boon, giving Spirit the last (ghoulish) laugh.
In addition to the major cities Party City set up shop in, there was a tendency for many of the locations to favor suburban areas, where shopping centers are the height of “going out.” To that point, throwing parties inside the home is much more of “a thing” in such environments, hence the company’s big business in non-city markets (which is somewhat ironic considering that “City” is built into the title of the store). And, just as Mandell intended, it became a staple for people to turn to for all of their varying party needs. Whether families or “singles,” there truly was something for everyone and every kind of party at Party City. What’s more, as millennials grew into adults accused of having Peter Pan syndrome, it was only natural that the generation would play into that “brand” by being continuing regular shoppers at the store they grew up on/with as kids. Who had turned into “kidults” that still just wanted to have fun. Even amid all the telltale signs that the twenty-first century was going to suck (starting with the “bang” of 9/11 and quickly continuing with the 2008 financial crisis just as many millennials were poised to look for their first job out of college).
As though to drive home the point of how much Party City had become a part of the cultural lexicon (for millennials especially), Drag Race season four offered up the now immortal line (from Phi Phi O’Hara, speaking to the eventual competition winner) referencing Sharon Needles’ “kooky” and “spooky” “Halloween style,” “Go back to Party City where you belong!” Ah, would that we all could—but now, that sense of “belonging” has vanished. Not just because it’s an altogether joyless world compared to 1986, but because Mandell let the company slip from his grasp in order to accommodate its rapid expansion. Indeed, a key aspect of what made it such a success—in addition to homing in on a previously untapped market—was that the products were not only varied in selection, but also stuck to another word that was once built into the title: “discount.” As in: Party City Discount Superstore. A name that they’ve now been living up to again as the majority of stores close and, as the saying goes, “everything must go.” Which means selling it all off at extremely slashed prices. Prices that were once the norm at said store.
But unfortunately, as Party City grew bigger and bigger, expanding nationally and even beyond U.S. borders (particularly in Canada), its leadership grew corporatized to the extent that, as Madnell himself put it, “[Management] took out the top two things that made this company very special. First, we were the discount party superstore. Today, it is not a discount store. The prices are top dollar. Second, Party City had great variety.” And then, to seal its destiny of doom/unspecialness, Party City effectively sold itself to Amazon in 2018. This by way of allowing its stock to be sold on Amazon (a.k.a. the Amazon Marketplace).
The thinking behind the maneuver was to get customers to buy Party City products where they were now actually willing to go (which is to say, nowhere), and that they would get “back on track,” “ahead of the curve,” etc. as a result. However, as the head of L2 Gartner’s Amazon research at the time, Cooper Smith, pointed out, “In the early 2000s, Circuit City, Borders and Toys R Us each outsourced their e-commerce businesses to Amazon, which ultimately was a bad decision and contributed to their downfalls. By helping Amazon increase its selection of party supplies, consumers will be conditioned into thinking the e-commerce giant is the top destination for those types of products and stop going elsewhere.”
And yes, that’s a central component of what happened to secure Party City’s toppling by the very entity it initially trusted to help give it a “leg up.” In a tale that reeks of that old The Scorpion and the Frog fable, Amazon, in the end, of course fucked over Party City. But, in contrast to the scorpion’s maneuver, it was in their own best interest to do so. Alas, even if Party City didn’t concede (too late anyway) to “collaborate” with the enemy, its fate seemed ill-omened regardless. After all, this is now a world that doesn’t feel as though there’s much to celebrate anymore (see also: plummeting champagne sales in 2024). Between the economic downturn—ergo, a fear of “superfluous” spending—and living in a world where dystopian nightmarishness has become shockingly normalized, it’s understandable that only the most oblivious and/or stupide (and, oh wait, rich) would find it easy to “get it up” for celebrating. So, to be fair, the “vibe” Party City was selling so successfully in the late 80s, 90s and early 00s, has definitely taken a shit/become more of a challenge to sell in the years since not just the first T***p presidency, but now, also the second one.
To be sure, it’s fittingly poetic that the erstwhile party superstore announced its plan to shutter most locations and “liquidate” all of its supplies by the end of February 2025, just as the Orange führer was (and continues to be) kicking it into high gear with the beginning of his presidency dictatorship. So yes, in many regards, the party truly is over. And it feels, like, for real for real, that there is nothing to celebrate. Unless toasting to genocide, extreme poverty, fucking people over out of social security—you know, that sort of thing—is what gets one feeling “festive.” Oh sure, people still have their “milestone events” (birthdays, weddings, retirement [though that’s not going to feel like much to celebrate anymore without any funds]), and they’ll buy what they “need” from, well, probably Amazon. But it just won’t have the same luster as it once did. Unless, of course, what people end up coming together to celebrate is a certain (successful) assassination. But that doesn’t seem likely.
Or maybe it’s about as likely as it was for Party City to ever stand a chance in a climate like this. A climate so hostile that it had to become the very thing it was never supposed to: a killer of joy. This much made as apparent as possible in terms of how the company ended up treating its employees, abruptly announcing not only that they would all be out of a job, but that those eligible would not be getting any severance pay or ongoing benefits to at least help cushion the blow (no balloon reference intended—especially not since that helium shortage that additionally fucked over Party City’s business). Because, just as in life, when the party truly is over, most of the resources that the place started out with have been totally drained. Squandered at the outset of the party, back when it seemed like it could never end.
