Teen body piercing: rite of passage
C.W. Nevius
Tuesday, November 8, 2005
Just think of the special moments you and your daughter will share -- that first day of school, the first grown-up dress, and even a first date.
And then, of course, there is a trip to the tattoo parlor, where a guy with a lip stud and spiked hair will stick a needle in her belly button.
Haven't you had the talk yet? It is coming. Trust me. When a young lady reaches her teens, her thoughts used to turn to puppy love. Now she's thinking whether she'd rather have a piercing in her belly button or her nose.
Shocked? That's fine, but I have to warn you. You are only showing your age. Body piercings, especially for teenage girls, are the tie-dye shirts of this generation.
"There is a kind of cultural curve that has passed,'' says Walter Hewitt, who did a study on body art and piercings from his job at Rutgers University Health Center. "People who drive Volvos are now considering piercings. They are so mainstream now that no one even comments any more.''
In 1999, Hewitt and another registered nurse, Judith Greif, put together a survey of college students, published in the Nursing Research Journal, that included 17 universities across the United States and one in Australia. Of those who volunteered to participate, more than 50 percent had one or more piercings (not including ear lobes). Today, Hewitt says, the percentage is at least that high, but the piercings have become so commonplace that no one has bothered to do a follow-up survey.
"The reason we did the survey was that the literature was so biased in the '90s,'' he says. "I wasn't seeing down-and-out drug dealers and biker types. This is Rutgers. We are seeing kids from upper-middle-class households.''
And tattoo parlors are coming to your neighborhood, too. In the East Bay, the place to go for a piercing is Zebra, on Berkeley's Telegraph Avenue. Stop in, and you are likely to see some queasy-looking teenage girls, waiting for their turn with the needle, and some wide-eyed parents, scanning the ceramic skulls and tattoo displays and wondering what they have gotten themselves into.
But, your daughter says, everybody is doing it. She's got a point. Moe Delfani, a middle-aged, suburban father of two teenagers (neither of whom is allowed to have a tattoo until they turn 18), is the owner of Zebra. He says he was doing 12 to 15 piercings a day when he opened a store in San Francisco in 1983. Then the belly-button tsunami hit.
"Our average here is 4,000 a month,'' he says. "I know that sounds like a lot, but Zebra is consistently grossing about $1.7 million a year, and 80 percent of this gross is piercings.'' He estimates that girls make up 85 percent of his clients, plopping down about $65 apiece for piercing and jewelry.
Although Zebra is open seven days a week, closing only for Christmas Day and Thanksgiving, that's more than 100 a day. Some, Delfani says, are changes from one kind of jewelry to another, but on weekends the freeways are full of teenagers on their way to Berkeley to get the needle.
"We've tracked it,'' he says, "and on the weekends, our customers come from a 50-mile radius. They come from Livermore, San Ramon, Fairfield and San Jose. There are four months of the year that our business truly becomes insane -- August, September, December and January. In those months, we do 500 piercings in the combined Friday, Saturday, Sunday weekend.''
But that doesn't mean it is easy to get one. One of the quirks of the edgy, weird Zebra interior is that the rules are ironclad. No tattoos, without exception, until someone is over 18. And the rule for piercing is at least one parent must be there -- with a valid driver's license for proof.
Even girls who bring in a photocopy of their mother's driver's license and a permission slip aren't home free. Delfani insists that his salespeople call home, speak to the parent and ask a question from the driver's license to confirm identity.
And then, well, there is the look of the staff. It is probably not a surprise that people who work in a tattoo parlor have their arms inked. But in many cases, this is full body art. There are some very ... well-illustrated employees at Zebra.
Which is why it is a surprise when they turn out to be as chipper and friendly as social directors on a cruise ship. Delfani says that is no accident. He makes a point to pay better than the going wage on Telegraph Avenue, and adds, "I pay much better, and I expect much better customer service.''
He knows parents can be a little put off when they hand their credit card to a pierced, tattooed, hair-spiked guy running the cash register.
"Someone can look like a monster, but people can fall in love with them,'' he says.
It is a sentiment worth remembering when your daughter emerges from the back room with a pierced jewel in her tummy.