Silly What?

If you are between the ages of five and twenty-one, or if you have come into contact with a person between the ages of five and twenty-one, or if you have shopped in an establishment catering to people between the ages of five and twenty-one, or if you have shopped in an establishment that caters to the parents of people between the ages of five and twenty-one, then you’ve probably seen Silly Bandz.

(If, somehow, you’ve managed to stay insulated from the craze, allow me to ruin it for you: They’re rubber bands, shaped like things. You wear them on your wrist, or perhaps your ankle, depending, of course, on your dedication level and the size of said ankle. You collect and then trade them with your friends. They are status symbols, they are fads, they are cheaply made and cheaply sold.)

A few weeks ago, I watched a nine-year-old while her father was out, and over a dinner of pizza and Jones soda, she educated me on the finer details of Silly Bandz—their acquisition and trading, their variations (you can also find Zany Bandz, Crazy Bandz, Wacky Ringz, and so on), and their likely trajectory (she estimates they’ll be around at least another couple years). We speculated on how they might be manufactured, what happens to the excess material from their manufacture, and how we might break into the market (there are, as far as we know, no Silly Bandz in the shape of the International Space Station).

She was kind enough to get me started on my very own collection, generously donating the bands below. I am now cooler than I was before, when I had no Silly Bandz, not even knock-offs. Don’t be jeal.

Rather impressive, isn't it?