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RIP Fruit Stripe gum, we literally forgot you even still existed
Farewell to the gayest gum the world has ever known.
On January 10, 2024, candy company Ferrara rocked the world with the announcement that it would be discontinuing Fruit Stripe gum, effective immediately.
While some mourners were devastated by this unexpected turn of events, others responded with pure disbelief, asking questions like, “What’s that?” and “Fruit Stripe wasn’t discontinued years ago?” and “Wait, that gum wasn’t just a fever dream from the 90s?”
The answer to the last two questions is simply “no,” but the first requires a little more history.
Fruit Stripe was originally introduced in 1969, which, combined with its name and colorful appearance, led to it frequently being declared the gayest of all chewing gums over the years.
Where other gums had catchy jingles or flavor that lasted more than 15 seconds, Fruit Stripe was known for its eye-catching appearance and the weird little zebra mascot named Yipes.
It was a gum staple among kids who grew up in the 1990s, despite the fact that there are probably only a cumulative six people across the planet who have actually put the colorfully striped gum in their mouths on purpose in the past 20 years.
“The decision to sunset this product was not taken lightly, and we considered many factors before coming to this decision, including consumer preferences, and purchasing patterns,” reads a statement from Ferrera Foods.
In other words, yes, this is almost certainly yet another casualty to be added to the lengthy list of capitalism murders we can pin on millennials.
Still, begging for Fruit Stripe in line at the grocery store, or at a gas station in the middle of a long, dull road trip, and subsequently going through an entire pack in just half an hour to keep rinsing the premature taste of used-up gum out of our mouths will forever be a shared experience that unites us all.
So goodbye, peach smash. So long, cherry, lemon, and orange. Sleep well, wet ’n wild melon. And may Yipes himself live on in the nostalgic nightmares we eventually face in our own final days.
Those wishing to pay their respects to the gum can do so by checking every store in a 50 mile radius, looking for packs that may have gotten swept underneath the displays or buried beneath Juicy Fruit by disinterested shelf stockers.
Rachel Kiley is presumably a writer and definitely not a terminator. She can usually be found crying over queerbaiting in the Pitch Perfect franchise or on Twitter, if not both.
Rachel Kiley is presumably a writer and definitely not a terminator. She can usually be found crying over queerbaiting in the Pitch Perfect franchise or on Twitter, if not both.
