It’s like a record, baby

Another summer, and nothing to look forward to but reruns.

Remember Jeff Spicoli’s checkerboard Vans, and those Le Tigre shirts worn by kids who couldn’t afford -- or preferred to mock -- the preppy Lacoste alligators and Polo ponies? Camp Beverly Hills tees were the must-have souvenirs of an imagined Southern California lifestyle, a year-round summer camp for rich brats, and L.A. Gear’s sneakers were the uniform of aerobics-obsessed Valley girls.

Now those ‘80s MTV generation labels are back, along with Generra, Izod, Jordache, Sergio Valente, Pony, Kangaroos and more -- and shopping is starting to feel like a time warp, from “American Idol” to Billy Idol.

In fashion, as in the culture at large, retro refuses to die. Relaunching or repositioning brands is an easy-money formula at work from the top (Chanel, Gucci and, most recently, Perry Ellis) to the bottom. So it’s no surprise that entrepreneurs and childhood friends Adina Levin and Raquel Krouse saw an opportunity in the log-lettered Camp Beverly Hills logo.

Krouse, who grew up in Boca Raton, Fla., bought her first Camp Beverly Hills T-shirt while on a teen tour at age 16 in 1986. “That summer we traveled to Colorado and Canada to San Francisco, you name it. But everyone was saving their money for the Camp Beverly Hills store in L.A.”

In its heyday in the late ‘80s, Camp Beverly Hills was a $200-million T-shirt-and-sweats brand with stores in Beverly Hills and Woodland Hills, 21 franchises across the country and international sales accounts.

But Jeff Stein, who founded the label with John Lasker in 1977 and now owns West Hollywood’s Elixir Tonics and Teas, says the market became oversaturated with the logo, which was used on perfume, bedspreads, sunglasses and children’s clothes.

Last month, Krouse and Levin debuted their new, more tightly edited Camp Beverly Hills line, designed by Linda Meltzer, in Ron Herman stores here and Scoop stores in New York City. Sweatshirts ($75) are cut “Flashdance” style in tropical shades of hot pink, orange and turquoise, and T-shirts ($49) come in three levels of distress. Also offered: beach bags, journals, ponchos and bikini underwear.

“When you are dealing with mortgages and you see Camp Beverly Hills and Vans, you remember who you were when you were a teen and you worked at Baskin-Robbins,” says John Eshaya, women’s wear buyer for Southern California’s five Ron Herman stores. “They remind you that you’re not 100% an adult.” T-shirts by Junk Food with screen prints of ‘80s toys such as My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake are also selling briskly, he says.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that the recent fashion nostalgia is for peacetime boom times, the ‘50s and the ‘80s. It’s like comfort food. If dressing today involves a bit of escapism from color-coded terrorist alerts, then this fall’s circle skirts, cashmere cardigans and mink stoles could be the sartorial equivalent of a ladies’ luncheon, and Vans skater slip-ons, Jordache jeans and Le Tigre shirts might well be a junk-food snack.

“People are becoming aware that the mature consumer is someone to be wooed, and the way to woo them is to sell them the same thing they bought in their youth,” says David Wolfe, creative director of New York-based fashion trend consulting firm Doneger Group. The ‘80s are the decade of the moment, he says, “because most of us who remember the 1960s are half-dead. People who were in their 20s in the 1980s are in midlife crisis, where a T-shirt will help them deal with it. It’s like Botox to wear.”

Revival brands can grab the attention of customers who weren’t around for the originals too, says Jamie Ross, also at the Doneger Group. As baffling as it might be for those raised on ‘80s bands back when they wore skinny pants and even skinnier ties, there are teens today willing to pay to see Duran Duran for the first time, belly paunches and all. And a new generation has grown up with vintage leisure wear brands such as Adidas and Puma, which were forerunners in reintroducing ‘70s sneaker and tracksuit styles.

The enthusiasm for anything loosely labeled “old school,” and the good vibes associated with it, have opened up the market even for off-brands like Le Tigre. Founded in 1977 by Bob Rush, the label was invented to poke fun at the French and their “fancy shirts” (i.e., Lacoste, the originator of the tennis shirt in the 1930s, and a brand that orchestrated its own successful comeback on the runways at New York Fashion Week last year). Le Tigre was popular throughout the late ‘70s and ‘80s, when Ronald Reagan, Wilt Chamberlain and Run-DMC were fans.

After disappearing in the ‘90s, the leaping-tiger logo was rescued from extinction by Ryan O’Sullivan, Gerrity Lansing and Nesi Apparel Group in 2002. Relaunched last month, the new shirts, in solids or bold stripes ($42 to $48), are sold at Nordstrom, Urban Outfitters and Marshall Field’s. Back in the day, Le Tigre sold only men’s shirts, but now O’Sullivan is courting teen girls with baby-wale corduroy skirts, cable knit sweaters and fitted polos. “So far it’s working quite nicely,” he says. “It’s very country club chic.”

Executives at Candies, known for its Barbie-like, wood-soled mules, are interested in hiring Paris Hilton as the company’s new spokeswoman, according to Ross of the Doneger Group. Benetton, which seemed to have a store stacked with colorful sweaters on every city block in the ‘80s, has reintroduced its Colors magazine on newsstands.

L.A. Gear is also in the throes of a comeback. Founded in 1979 by Robert Greenberg, now the chief executive of Skechers, it was a $1-billion brand known in the late ‘80s for colorful aerobics shoes and in the ‘90s for basketball shoes with light-up soles. ACI International, the L.A.-based footwear manufacturer that brought L.A. Gear out of bankruptcy five years ago, has been introducing styles such as the aerobics-inspired “Dancer” and the patent-leather “Diva” in Big Five, JCPenney and Mervyn’s. This season, the company hired L.A. Lakers forward Luke Walton as a spokesman, and began outfitting the Laker Girls.

“Socially, with everything going on in the U.S., people want to reach back. When you look at the impact of Sept. 11, I think reaching back will hang on a little longer,” says Kevin McCarthy, a marketing executive for L.A. Gear.

But the lifespan of a label, whether in its first or second incarnation, depends on the quality of the goods -- and a good bit of spin. Generra was a junior line in the ‘80s that disappeared in the ‘90s. Following its relaunch in 2002, the new owners have tried to downplay its past. In interviews, designer Tony Melillo has said he’d never even heard of Generra when he took the job. And indeed, the line of sequined cardigans, velvet ski parkas and cotton canvas zippered skirts is being positioned in hopes of a more long-term future, a la Marc by Marc Jacobs, and not the faddish rise and fall some ‘80s brands could experience all over again.

To Wolfe, the fashion industry analyst, this strategy is transparent. “If they think they are starting from scratch, they are kidding themselves,” he says. “If that were the case, why not start with a different name?”