Join Puck to listen to this article
Teen mall retail isn’t supposed to be working right now. Forever 21 just collapsed, Shein and Temu are under regulatory pressure, and Gen Z and Gen Alpha allegedly buy everything on TikTok anyway. Yet Edikted, the fast-growing brand selling lace corset tops and denim micro-minis to American teenagers under a queasy name, is quietly making large gains—opening stores at a healthy clip with revenues, according to one estimate, in the mid-nine-figure range. Meanwhile, most people in the fashion business still couldn’t tell you who actually runs it.
Edikted, which was founded by the press-shy Israeli entrepreneurs Dedy Shwartzberg and Zvika Alon, is a private company run out of Los Angeles. They have 11 locations in the U.S., with four more openings on the way—including the brand’s first London outpost, on Carnaby Street. Based on an analysis of data from 40 million credit cards, the third-party tracking firm Consumer Edge estimated that Edikted’s 2025 net revenue was between $250 million and $300 million, and that the retailer is currently up 35 percent in Q1 versus the prior quarter. That would put it on track to reach $400 million this year. (An Edikted spokesperson said those figures were inaccurate but declined to provide more detail.)
The store’s appeal isn’t just the product; it’s the experience and the merchandising sense, which underpins a fast-moving app-to-closet loop. The clothes appear in feeds next to Coach handbags and Rhode Beauty. The sweatshirts are of the moment—Parke collegiate lettering, White Fox bubble letters, Altar’d State bows. Indeed, the “dupe” economy often associated with Gens Z and Alpha isn’t primarily about apparel, but rather accessories and beauty—categories where influencers showcase expensive taste while mentioning clothing almost as an afterthought.
The shopping ritual has a rhythm, too. Mother-daughter duos manage the lines with a split strategy: Mom holds the fitting-room queue while her daughter browses, then pivots to checkout when a room opens. Once she’s purchased, there’s basically no return; the refund isn’t worth fighting the crowds again. The product mix skews to the moment: lace corset tops, babydoll tanks, denim micro-minis, balanced with oversize hoodies and bows on track pants. Gone is the era of “going-out tops and black pants” that mall stores built around Friday nights a generation ago.
The Algo-Teens
In many ways, the company’s trajectory itself is the story, especially amid this turbulent period for teen fashion. Several teen brands have stumbled as macro headwinds bite. Forever 21, long a dominant player in this space, liquidated its U.S. stores after filing for bankruptcy in March 2025, citing impossible price competition from Shein and Temu. And those platforms are now facing pressures of their own: When Trump killed the de minimis exemption in May 2025—eliminating tariff-free imports under $800 shipped directly into the U.S.—daily active users on both platforms dropped as prices rose. Edikted has been partially insulated from that shift. Its U.S. store footprint, along with domestic wholesale partnerships with PacSun and Nordstrom, helped shield it from the same pressures.
Shwartzberg previously co-founded Adika, a direct-to-consumer brand with a similar playbook, and sold it to Golf & Co Group in 2022. He and Alon, who previously worked at Adika, appear to be operators who know how to build a business for an exit. They learned quickly that using TikTok data and algorithmic trends could guide merchandising decisions—allowing them to introduce new products quickly and determine what teen shoppers wanted in near real time.
Teen fashion has always had a loyal customer base. Before Forever 21, there was Wet Seal, Contempo Casuals, and Delia’s—retailers that catered to the ever-present teen impulse to buy what everyone else was wearing, as cheaply as can be (or at least within the limits of babysitting money and birthday cash). What’s changed is the delivery mechanism. Algorithms now track what a 16-year-old clicks, and serve endless variations until she either buys or disengages. Social platforms have collapsed the distance between discovery and purchase.
Pricing is another element of Edikted’s strategy. A former executive from another teen retailer described the brand’s approach: “The ticketed prices are higher, but they’re always on promo, so the girls think they’re getting a good deal. Classic high-low psychology.” A look at Edikted’s site shows the strategy in practice: A $27 striped off-the-shoulder top sits with a “comp value” of $54, the lower price shown in red.
But the “comp value” listed on Edikted’s tags isn’t necessarily a previous selling price. Instead, it’s a comparison price that the company assigns—typically meant to reflect what a similar item might cost elsewhere in the market. Alexandra Roberts, a Northeastern University professor of law and media, notes that the concept is often confusing: “Comp value is opaque, even to lawyers,” she said. That ambiguity becomes more significant when stores advertise discounts, especially since teen shoppers typically aren’t on alert for consumer language that deftly navigates F.T.C. guidelines. (Edikted declined to comment.)
Shwartzberg and Alon have built and sold a teen brand before, and then moved on. Whether Edikted is the final destination or simply the next step, they aren’t saying. For now, though, teens seem perfectly happy walking around with those pink shopping bags.