80s and 90s Children's Magazines

Toward the end of the 20th century, business proprietors were looking at children through an entirely new perspective. Children in the 80s and 90s had far more pocket money than their predecessors and were thus capable of constituting their own demographic, meaning greedy adults could now push their wares on an entirely new consumer group. Direct marketing at children was a wise move, of course. It's way easier to convince a 7-year old that they want something than it is to do the same to an adult. They served it up and we consumed it, no questions asked. If their advertising claimed I would love it, I was wholly certain this was the case. Why would my TV lie to me? It's a respected member of my family.

Back in a time when print journalism was more than just a vintage throwback, children's magazines were all the rage. Our parents liked them because they taught us the valuable life skill of sitting still in one place for more than five minutes at a time. We liked them because they spoke to us personally, whether through adorable animal pictures or video game tips. Whatever your fancy, there was a magazine producer out there trying to capitalize on it.



Nickelodeon Magazine



The creation of Nickelodeon Magazine was by no means a big leap. Kids loved Nickelodeon on TV, so the logical next step would be to deliver it directly to their doorsteps and further mesmerize them with Nickelodeon characters, shows, and merchandise. The original concept had been a cross-promotion with Pizza Hut restaurants, offering a free Nickelodeon Magazine with purchase. Kids like pizza, kids like Nickelodeon, everyone wins. The mag soon expanded to a regular circulation, offering kids a Nickelodeon-tinted view of the world all while selling us Gak and giving us interviews with our favorite fictional Nicktoon characters. As someone who was very curious about Oblina from Aaah! Real Monsters' life outside the set, I'd like to say thank you.



Sports Illustrated Kids




Adults are always thinking up sneaky ways to infuse educational practices into our everyday pastimes. Sports Illustrated Kids was no exception, giving us the sports we love at the price of reading for enjoyment. It was a trade-off many kids were willing to make and parents were more than pleased to shell out for monthly. The magazine actually won the Distinguished Achievement for Excellence in Educational Publishing Award* eleven times, proving that sports and education can go hand-in-hand. All the while, we were thinking we were just reading an exciting interview with Magic Johnson and they secretly had us learning. Go figure.



American Girl Magazine



I don't know how your childhoods shaped up, but mine was largely driven by the force of my desire to immerse myself in all things American Girl. I never received my oft-coveted overpriced doll (another handily educational tie-in to the American Girl book series) but I did lust monthly after the human-sized clothing options the American Girl catalog modeled after Kirsten the pioneering Swede. Imagine my delight to find the franchise created a magazine, further extending the reach of American Girl's extensive empire. The magazine featured craft ideas, advice columns, contests, and all sorts of other material certain to ignite a desire to own all the American Girl merchandise ever manufactured. Now if only they'd had the in-store with-doll tea parties in my day.



Zoobooks



It's a scientifically proven fact that children love cute animals. It's also a fact that parents are seeking educational opportunities at every unsuspecting turn. Hence we got tricked into learning zoologically significant information all the while we thought we were just flipping through a photo series on otters and puffins. The commercials for these babies were so exciting and convincing, it was enough to make us overlook the fact that we were essentially doing voluntary extracurricular science homework.




Nintendo Power



Can it be true? A publication that offers us tricks, tips, and hints on our favorite Nintendo games? Nintendo Power was a legitimate revelation to many joystick-gripping youths, giving them the inside information they so desperately craved. The marketing strategy was genius: the over 3 million members of the Nintendo Fun Club received the first issue free, after which a million or so took the plunge to subscribe. The magazine knew its audience well and delivered pages of Nintendo-themed guides, some of which featured the oft-coveted cheats. Any magazine that can teach me to cheat at a video game is okay in my book. That's enjoying reading at its finest.




Fox Kids Club "Totally Kids"




Yes, a few hours of children's programming on Saturday morning is totally deserving of its own magazine. Hey, whatever works. The magazine had a pretty wide circulation and even pulled some big name celebrity interviews, so judging by results I'd say Fox Kids made out pretty well on the magazine front. This pamphlet of a publication was filled with comics starring our favorite Fox Kids characters, promotions for Fox Kids shows, and of course some games and puzzles thrown in for good measure. Let me just say, I rocked those wordfinds. Just try to diagonal/backwards Babs Bunny on me. I'll find it. Just try me.


Bop/Tiger Beat

I know this pic isn't of Tiger Beat or Bop per se, but I just couldn't resist. I mean, look at that selection!

These flimsy fan mags were filled with cheesy foldout pinups of our favorite teen heartthrobs, their lack of content compensated for with glossy grinning celebrities. I've lumped the two magazines together because not only were they published by the same company, they often featured the exact same pictures and interviews. Why exactly they needed two separate magazine for this is beyond me, but as long as they keep giving me two page mini-mag spreads of JTT, I'll be happy.



These may not have been the most substantial sources of literary content, but they did play a major role in getting kids to enjoy reading. Yes, much of the content involved marketing toward us and trying to sell us useless crap while promoting their parent company, but as kids we were more than willing to go along with it. The magazines allowed kids to be kids, speaking to us at our level while discussing the topics that interested us. If we ended up begging our parents for Samantha dolls or Moon Shoes somewhere along the way, well then so be it.




Honorable Mention Classic Non 80s/90s-Specific Favorites: Highlights, MAD, Ranger Rick Magazine



*This award later went on to win the longest award name award

Hocus Pocus

In the spirit of Halloween, it seems worthwhile to hearken back to a time when the holiday was less about wearing lingerie and animal ear-handbands and more about giving ourselves movie-induced nightmares. Sure, we're trading one vice for another, but that's really just splitting hairs. You know, to put in our bubbling cauldrons and to bring forth from which a magical potion.

While there was no shortage of horror movies in the 90s, we also got some family friendlier fare thrown in the mix. 1993's Hocus Pocus gave us a little bit of spookiness with a better measure of humor to soften the impact. So what if I still have an insatiable urge to hide under the bed whenever I hear Sarah Jessica Parker singing "Come Little Children?" It's still totally worth it.



See what I mean? That is seriously creepy. Also, is it just me or does is she showing an inordinate amount of cleavage for this being a children's movie? I wouldn't have noticed at the time, of course, being far too traumatized by that haunting song, but now it seems marginally suspect.

Hocus Pocus is the story of three witches, sisters who are seeking to circumvent the aging process by giving themselves eternal youth. As we all know, the only means of doing this is by sucking the life out of a living, breathing, vital child. Now that sounds like a movie I want to take my children to. Hey kids! Guess what? Remember that time you forgot to make your bed? Well, do it one more time, and three terrifying witches will swoop into your room unannounced, extract your lifebreath, and leave your useless corpse strewn across the bed. I don't know about you, but I'd be fluffing the pillows and resetting the duvet the instant I heard that one.

The three Sanderson sisters, Winnifred (Bette Midler), Mary (Kathy Najimy), and Sarah (Sarah Jessica Parker) find their unsuspecting juvenile victim in Emily Binx. Her brother Thackery (because, hey, this is the 1600s and people were partial to the name Thackery) tries to intervene but is forced to watch as they drain the last drop of life from his innocent sister. Again, there's a way to start a children's movie.

Resisting the allure of Thackery's youth, the Sanderson sisters opt instead to doom him to eternal life in the body of a black cat. Conveniently, they give him the gift of speech, which I can't imagine is relevant in any other way than setting up a plot line for the present day story. After I saw it here and then later in Sabrina the Teenage Witch I just pretty much assumed it was a common practice to turn people in wittily quipping English-speaking black cats with eternal life.



If this weren't already a traumatizing enough beginning for a children's movie, the three sisters are subsequently arrested under suspicion of practicing witchcraft and hanged for their alleged crimes. There's nothing quite like a good hanging to get a children's movie going. It's that secret ingredient that really gives it that extra kick.*



Before their executions, the Sandersons thought fit to cast a spell that would bring them back to life if an innocent virgin just happened to enter their historic home and light their ominous black-flamed candle. This of course begs the question of if they could imbue that much foresight into their deaths, why couldn't they just witch themselves alive in the first place? Lucky for Disney, kids aren't especially adept at plot investigation, so we all just sort of went with it.

The cat version of Thackery Binx makes it his unending life mission to stop the curse from being fulfilled, but it wouldn't be much of a story if he was just really really good at it. To his credit, he kept it pretty safe for oh, say, 300 years, and we would all get a bit sloppy after working the same gig for that long. Some pesky local modern-day kids come across the house and of course feel compelled to light the black flame candle. Because that's what teenagers do to be rebellious: go around from haunted museum to haunted museum unobtrusively lighting lights.

So we've got our witches back and the unavoidable hi-jinks ensue. They gather up some of their undead friends and make a night of it, as they've only got until sunrise to suck some serious lifeblood. It's Halloween, of course, meaning lifeblood-filled children are frolicking about carefreely through the streets blinded by their love of free candy. I have to say, it's not looking too promising for their sticky-fingered futures.

Somehow our villains end up at a Halloween party, where they're mistaken for well-costumed entertainment. Bette Midler performs her requisite over-the-top musical number ("I'll Put a Spell on You") and entrances the town's partying adults into an endless night of dancing. Really, endless. The witches leave them to die from dance-induced exhaustion. Sounds like a good party.



A few more plot twists and we've got our singing enchantress Sarah summoning the town's innocent and undoubtedly delicious children. Soon the witches have our heroes and their young companions in their grasp and everything seems pretty doomed. Of course, this is Disney, so we get our all-important last minute rah-rah the-kids-win moment, and it's a happy ending after all. Binx turns back into a human, which is super, of course, because he's 300-something years old and I'm sure all he wants is to be a teenager forever, Twilight style. Okay, fine, that didn't happen, instead he sort of creepily passes through to the afterlife to chill with his dead sister. How...sweet.

The movie was panned by critics, who obviously couldn't see it for what it was: a silly, over-the-top, campy film filled with gimmicks and cliches. In other words, a Disney movie. Over the years, however, the movie's developed quite a loyal cult fan base who delight in its ridiculousness and pure camp. It's morphed into a sort of Halloween classic, the type of movie that gets yearly TV play and is somehow designated a classic despite the fact that it didn't perform especially well in theaters. Regardless of its route to becoming a Halloween staple, Hocus Pocus has all the makings of a good children's movie. Well, except for the witchcraft, hangings, and de-lifeblooding. We'll just overlook that.





*By kick I mean nightmares, nightmares, nightmares

90s Fitness: Exercise Fads and Ridiculous Infomercials

Riding the crest of 80s aerobic fitness trends, many entrepreneurial-minded exercise gurus took to the airwaves with the goal of convincing us to buy their complicated contraptions. Through the use of TV ads, particularly informercials, these buff business-minded bodybuilders managed to persuade us into believing that we could not live without these exercise appliances. Watching the near-immediate transformations of the testimonial hawkers on our screens, our resistance weakened and we felt increasingly compelled to rush to the nearest phone with the toll-free number and a valid credit card. In short, we were all looking for a quick fix and television ads had a unique way of making the process of getting fit seem simple and instantaneous.

Of course, getting fit is not simple or instantaneous, but we didn't know that yet. Watching these skilled salespeople describe the results possible with their product made us believe that this was indeed the fitness panacea we had been looking for. It rarely occurred to any of us that we might actually have to use the item in question. Based on the infomercials, it seemed enough to simply shell out the bills for it. It was almost as if we believed our act of exercise goodwill would immediately transform us from crumb-laden couch potatoes into tan, oiled, muscular wonders. That is to say, we were completely deluded.

So many of us fell under the spell of the fitness trends, it's no wonder many of these products made their endorsers a nice chunk of cash. Everyone's looking for that magic bullet (no infomercial pun intended*) to transform us from flab to fab, and somehow watching these 30 minute ads at 2 in the morning made these machines and videos seem like the wisest solution. As many of us were wee children during the rise and fall of these trends, we had the unique perspective of watching the infomercials, coveting the products, and having no means whatsoever to obtain them.



I don't know about you, but when I got a television in my own room it certainly didn't have cable on it. There are only so many programming options late at night, and most of them involve show-length commercials brimming with overzealous enthusiasm. Even as a kid, I was blown away by the seemingly incredible results these programs offered. If I had been 18 or older to order, I certainly would have done so. Until then, though, I'd have to settle for sitting back and enjoying the informercials.


Tony Little's Gazelle

Just when I was here thinking Richard Simmons was the king of excessive exercisical energy, Tony Little burst onto the infomercial scene gave Richard a run for his aerobics-earned money. To his credit, Little did have an adequately inspirational backstory to give him some credibility in pushing others to their physical limits. Little was a former bodybuilder who suffered a serious car crash, leaving him injured and subsequently overweight. Tired of wallowing in cheeto-tinted misery, he petitioned a small television to let him create his own personal trainer style fitness program. Not long after, he struck a deal with the Home Shopping Network and all seemed pretty peachy.

As his personal website objectively and not-at-all-awkwardly informs us, "Life couldn't have been better for the blond haired, lean, mean, energized, personal training machine." That is, until he suffered yet another car accident. Little did the whole overcoming adversity thing a second time around and came out with his signature Gazelle fitness equipment:



See? Even at 11 seconds, that clip manages to draw you in. Like a train wreck. Or car crash. Too soon? Sorry, Tony. I admire your work, I really do.


Tae Bo

Developed by Tae kwan do instructor Billy Blanks, Tae Bo combined martial arts and kickboxing to create an infomercial-driven phenomenon. In the 90s, you could catch one of Blanks's infomercials airing pretty much anytime. In 1999, they were airing 2000 times a day on cable. Now that's good exposure. And I'm not just talking about those spandex pants.

The infomercial gave us many compelling testimonials from regular people and celebrities alike, all of whom praised its "spirit" and "Truth". Selling at 60 bucks a pop, Blanks made a pretty penny of his kickboxing hybrid routine. People flooded local gyms to partake in new Tae Bo-inspired cardio kickboxing classes, and seemingly overnight a fitness fad was born. It makes sense, really. We get to punch and kick and let out aggression in the comfort of our own homes. What's not to like?

If you want to try it for yourself, here's a little 8 minute taste:



8 Minute Video series

Speaking of 8 minutes, the "8 minute" video series was a serious money-maker in the 90s, particularly its "8 Minute Abs" routine. The idea was that in just 8 minutes a day, you too could be as ripped and skimpy-pantsed as the instructor. Any rational person can tell you this is pretty much impossible if you're overweight in any way; sure, you may have rock-hard abs, but thousands of crunches won't do a thing about that beer belly.

The videos feature a cheery host, bland meandering music, and two seemingly mute demonstrators who smile with such conviction you've almost got to question their sobriety. The host constantly refers to his audience as, "gang", which I suppose is supposed to be encouraging and not indicative of any east side/west side distinction. Just to clarify.



The videos caught a bit of free publicity in There's Something About Mary, in a scene in which a lone hitchhiker details his plans to create a "7 Minute Abs" program and crush his overlong competition:



Abdomenizer

There are so many reasons to love this commercial. For one, that struggling sitter-upper in the No Pain, No Gain t shirt. Usually when I work out, I like to wear clothing emblazoned with slogans that represent my current fitness mindset. I've got to change at the gym every time I hop on a new machine.

Also, I find that doing concurrent ab exercises with a partner in tandem synchronized motion without speaking or looking at one another is usually the most effective method. And of course, we've got our requisite doctor testimonial claiming this thing is pelvically tilted in some miraculous way. That's it, I'm sold.




Buns of Steel

On the edge of the 80s aerobics craze, "Buns of Steel" gave us a means of filling out leotards or bike shorts respectively by gender. In the late 80s and early 90s, workout videos were becoming all the rage. Just think, you could get fit all from the comfort of your own home. Of course, many people overlooked the fact that you actually had to do the workout, but if you did it no doubt led to the betterment of your overall physique. At least that's what Cher told me in Clueless.




Suzanne Somers for Thighmaster

Ah, here we've got both our doctor testimonial and celebrity endorsement. Talk about your classic infomercial one-two punch. There is definitely a little something...inappropriate about it. Didn't your mother ever tell you to keep your legs closed? It's just a tad obscene. I can see why the infomercial was so popular, though.




The 90s fitness scene may have been slightly toned down from the over-the-top marketing of the 80s, but it had its own unique charm and appeal. There's a reason these items sold thousands of units worldwide. Rather than the effectiveness of the product, though, that reason was probably more about how easily swayed the public was by infomercials. Alright, I'm off to go cut up some shoes with my Ginsu knives. What? They're good knives.

*Okay, okay, a little infomercial pun intended