"They all told me that their stroller was selected by Jennifer Garner,
that Jennifer has this model, that Jennifer has their catalogue and
picked their stroller in blue," Vercelletto said.
Who cares that the actress won't even give birth until next month?
"There have to be 10 companies that have already sent her strollers,
hoping that theirs will be photographed with her," she said. "I'm
afraid mothers will think that it's the best, safest stroller because
Jen is using it when, in reality, it's the one closest to the door when
she walks out of the house."
No matter. With Hollywood celebs popping faster than a popcorn machine
at the multiplex - and with more older, financially stable "real" women
following suit - manufacturers are glutting the market with
ever-pricier baby clothing, furniture and accessories. Forget teacup
maltipoos; babies are the arm candy du jour, and the $6 billion-a-year
baby gear industry is fussing over them big time.
It's not just $2,800 Silver Cross prams and $1,500 Louis Vuitton diaper
bags: Maclaren, one of the veterans in the baby wars, is introducing an
urban-chic black leather stroller next year with a $1,000 price tag.
Marc Jacobs and Dolce & Gabbana, who already dress half the celebs in
New York and L.A., are setting their sights downward for spring, with
$395 baby cardigans (from Little Marc) and $145 hoodies (from D&G
Junior). Three-dollar baby creams too common? Try $8.50 shampoo and $10
calming cream from Estee Lauder's Grassroots division at Kohl's.
Sure, the frenzy is as irrational as handing $5,000 goodie bags to $15
million-per-picture movie stars. But experts say it's upping the ante
for parents across all income levels.
"The thing about this baby market is that it's people who are not
buying Hermes bags for themselves who are buying Bugaboo strollers for
their kids," says Pilar Guzman, editor in chief of Cookie, the
lifestyle baby magazine debuting this month. "You see people who'd
never spend more than $100 on a bag pushing really nice strollers."
"America has an aspirational lifestyle," adds Ali Wing, owner of
Giggle, a new West Village baby store. "And the media is a constant
source of news about which celebrity lifestyle to emulate. That has a
not-insignificant impact."
Call it the Precious Baby Syndrome. Led by parents who've waited longer
to get pregnant and who've settled into their careers, homes and
personal style, babies are up on a pedestal, and parents are demanding
"the best" for them.
At Kidville, the 9-month-old child-and-parent club on the upper East
Side, Lisa Meyers, a former teacher, shared a bowl of edamame with
22-month-old Charlotte the other day and explained that it's hard not
to be seduced by all the goodies.
"There's a certain pressure in every group to have your child look a
certain way, have certain toys, do certain things," she says. "I try to
do things that are age-appropriate, not because the next guy is doing
it, or has it."
But that doesn't mean she can resist, say, the matching Burberry
jackets that her husband gave her and Charlotte for their first
Mother's Day. "It is spoiling," Meyers admits. "But they're all firsts
in her life."
"In a way, you shop for them the way you shop for yourself," said
Hillary Nayman, a 37-year-old mother playing nearby with her 2-year-old
son, Benjamin. "You might buy a couple of nice pieces - Gucci, Prada -
to mix in with H&M and Gap."
Though high-priced baby gear is nothing new (think Baby Dior quilts and
Norma Kamali toddler dresses), the offerings have exploded in the last
two years, along with the weekly updates on Gwyneth Paltrow's pram (the
Bugaboo Frog, $729, without accessories) or Britney Spears' diaper bag
(metallic leather EDE, $430).
"Girls love to shop, and they love to read in Us magazine what the
celebrities are wearing and doing," said Lucy Sykes, the former fashion
director at Marie Claire, who created a children's line that includes
$95 silk skirts, $138 hoodies and $465 diaper bags.
Though few moms will admit to snagging a stroller just because every
Gwyneth, Reese and Sarah Jessica has one, they say the rush of marquee
actresses into parenthood has forced manufacturers to take notice.
In New York, the competition to offer tot couture can be particularly
intense. On the upper East side, English designer Rachel Riley is
opening a kids shop with items like $112 pajamas and $128 handmade
slippers. Greenwich Village boasts Estella, which sells the ultra-mod
Nest convertible high chair ($575). And in SoHo, P-Sling launched a
store last month devoted to fabric baby carriers - $250-to-$500
versions of the slings that tribal women have been wearing for
centuries. And in Brooklyn, Moderntots is launching a Web site offering
stunningly cool modular furniture with some equally stunning prices,
including $3,000 storage units and $1,600 cribs.
Designer Riley defends the upward trend. "Clothes are about memories,"
she says. "They're about a certain time of your child's life that you
never get back. I pick up dresses my daughter wore, and they remind me
of the year she started sucking her thumb or was potty trained or we
went on vacation and it was really cold. It's a bit like having
photos."
But the new wave isn't just about products; creating experiences is
also hot. This month, The Carlyle will launch a five-afternoons-a-week
children's tea at Bemelmans Bar, in a room hung with illustrations by
the creator of the "Madeline" books. Girls can commandeer the American
Girl Place on Fifth Ave. with friends after-hours for $250 apiece.
Fairchild's new Cookie magazine is hoping to reel in parents with the
latest in "lifestyle" trends - not diaper-rash cures but travel,
fashion and home.
Then there are the parent-child "clubs." The $3 million Kidville,
opened earlier this year, offers everything from a family cafe to a
kiddie salon. Parents can pay per class, or opt for $395 gold or $695
platinum memberships, which guarantee access to the indoor playground
and in-house birthday parties.
Not to be outdone, Citibabes, a Mercer St. club set to open this month,
is a cross between "Sesame Street" and SoHo House. There are playrooms
and classes for kids; pedicures, Pilates and personal trainers for
moms. Adding to the exclusivity: a $1,250 membership fee that, like the
real estate bubble, has already mushroomed to $1,550.
Do new parents really need any of this? Of course they don't.
Still, common sense hasn't stopped more stores and manufacturers from
taking the Whole Foods approach to babyhood. They're betting that
parents will spend a little more for high style, status and chic
packaging. As Sarah Rubenstein, founder of
http://www.moderntots.com/go_play/home.php, put it, "If it were only
about price, our kids would all be sleeping in sleeping bags."