Hooters opened with the Mall of America in 1992, one of the Bloomington mega mall’s original restaurants and part of the chain’s explosive ’90s expansion.
At its peak, Hooters boasted more than 425 locations around the world. It had its own syndicated late-night TV series, a NASCAR racing team, and, briefly, an airline.
But nothing lasts forever, not even the seemingly unassailable combination of decent wings, televised sports, beer, and waitresses in neon-orange hot pants. The chain filed for bankruptcy about a year ago, and Hooters MoA announced last week that it will close for the final time after service on Sunday, March 22. After 33 years, the mall will be without a Hooters for the very first time, news that the good people of the Twin Cities have mostly accepted with a tremendous shrug.
For Racket’s most delightfully tacky staffer (Em Cassel) and unrefined contributor (Ian Ringgenberg) the news was harder to take. Sorry, but we love Hooters. We stopped in earlier this week for one last plate of 911-sauced wings and took the opportunity to reminisce about the death of a breastaurant—and, possibly, the death of the American spirit.
…or possibly not. Anyway, here’s where our musings took us.
Em: So Ian, we tried to do the math earlier this week, and I think we determined our first visit to this Hooters together was in 2022? And I’ve been many times since, but I’ve never had to wait in line for a table like we did on Tuesday.
Ian: Whenever a local institution goes under, you hear a chorus of “I wish I had appreciated it while it was still here” and Mall of America Hooters is certainly no exception. The wait on Tuesday was 20 minutes at 8 p.m., and when I tried to return on Wednesday, there were 57 people in line at 7 p.m. In 10 minutes of waiting, no one got seated.
Em: Lucky we went when we did. I would have been devastated to walk outta there without an instantly vintage Hooters MoA T-shirt, and they only had like three smalls and two mediums left when we were there.
OK, I want to set you up to talk about your Hooters bona fides, because I truly believe there is no person in the Twin Cities more qualified to memorialize this restaurant than you.
Ian: Being a noted Hooters expert is sort of like being an expert in disposing of human remains—it begs more questions than it answers, it mostly makes people look down upon you—but when you absolutely need the expertise, you’ll be glad to have me.
I grew up around the Hooters-hotbed of Dallas, Texas. I would estimate that I’ve been to Hooters over 200 times in my life, and to at least 30 unique locations. In 2003, Hooters celebrated its 20th anniversary by introducing a passport to visit 20 different locations in a calendar year to win a prize. I succeeded in doing so, even though I was 17 and technically ineligible to win. I have been to Hooters for Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, my parents’ anniversary, my birthday, my sister’s birthday, and every holiday in between. We went most Sundays after church. I have a pack of Hooters playing cards signed by my favorite Hooters Girl (who was also my pastor’s daughter), and when I was 13 years old, I dressed as a Hooters Girl for Halloween.
Em: Nothing to unpack there, I’m sure.
Ian: Gender is a beautiful canvas on which we paint our lives. I would guess that I’ve forgotten more about Hooters than the average Racket reader has ever known. The whole thing is a little odd for me because the average lefty Minneapolitan in my social group is not particularly fond of the brand, but to me this was just part of my childhood and upbringing.
Em: I also feel compelled to add that when Ian was 5 years old, he was asked to be in a local Hooters commercial but couldn’t do it due to a scheduling conflict.
Anyway, I’m glad you mentioned that, because I love Hooters so much, which probably seems incongruous with the fact that I love women, I’m a feminist, and I look awkward in push-up bras. I think the reason I cherish Hooters is less about the, uh, hooters [eyes lie detector test warily] and more about the fact that I really enjoy trash? It’s so kitschy.
Ian: Yes. We both remarked how the “Delightfully Tacky, Yet Unrefined” slogan on the back of the uniforms truly captures its essence. The brand and reputation of Hooters overstates the sexualization to such a degree that I think the actual experience of it feels almost wholesome??? The first table I saw as we walked in was a group of middle-aged Latina women celebrating a birthday. One of them had to stand up on a chair while the waitresses sang. You’re going to a sports bar where the servers are dressed slightly more provocatively than average, but the vibe is more campy than risqué. It’s drag brunch for divorced dads.
Em: Let the Hooters Girls read to children!!
Ian: Honestly, we won the Hooters Girl lottery on Tuesday night. Tori was wonderful and I think she would be great at story time. I also thought she was pretty insightful about what it means to be a Hooters Girl—a role I think she was sincere in saying that she had loved!
Em: Oh my god, she was a natural. I’m always wary of asking the girls about Hooters (the “so… do you like driving for Lyft?” of breastaurant dining) but the occasion of the MoA Hooters’ demise did have our table reminiscing with Tori a bit. And understandably, I think she was more upset about the closure than we were. She just had her first calendar audition, and now she’ll never get the gig.
Ian: It would be tough to exaggerate how frazzled every other staff member in that restaurant looked when we walked in, and Tori was a ray of sunshine on a turbulent sea. I can’t imagine it’s easy to be a waitress knowing you’re losing your job in five days, half your menu items are unavailable, and all of your tables waited an hour to get in. I think this was only my third time at MoA Hooters, and Tori is the only girl who has made the experience feel like I was in a real Hooters.
Em: The vibes on the fourth floor of the Mall of America… I mean, a Texas patio in June it is not.
Ian: I think the fact that the MoA Hooters has a false patio that is “out of the restaurant” but in a climate-controlled, oddly vacant wing of the mall across from a knock-off Dave and Busters is the perfect encapsulation of my gripes with this location. Everything about it feels artificial.
I believe I described it to you like going to a McDonald’s in a foreign country—on every previous visit, I’ve felt like the staff had tried to invent what a Hooters might feel like from reputation, but no one had actually been to one. The waitresses had the same affect as though they were working at Applebee’s; the food was phoned-in; the ambiance felt forced, rather than tacky. That really wasn’t the case this time! It makes me even sadder to lose it! The nearest Hooters now is in Davenport, Iowa, or Chicago!
Em: Yeah, we looked this up during our visit, but Hooters closed a ton of locations after declaring bankruptcy and the mall location limped along a little longer. I get that it’s probably just a relic of another time, but that’s part of what I enjoy about it. It’s something more complex than the food or the girls or the ambiance, it’s like… I’m nostalgic for the entire experience of dining in the ’90s. The MoA Hooters had been there for 33 years, and I’m 34—we grew up alongside each other! Am I becoming obsolete?
Ian: I think it’s a cultural artifact that just doesn’t fit into people’s lives in the same way it used to, and it makes me sad as well. They got flanked on one hand by breastaurants that had even fewer clothes and scruples: Twin Peaks, Tilted Kilt, etc. (I know of at least five competing chains in Dallas-Fort Worth alone.) On the other hand, I don’t think “restaurant that makes your wife mad” is a conceptual category that many people are interested in any more. My political priors lead me to think that’s probably a good thing, yet I feel sad about it!
Em: Me too, buddy. There’s just something about it. I guess all we can hope for is that in 20 years, some schmuck pulls a Chi-Chi’s and opens a Hooters simulacrum in a local outdoor shopping complex.
Ian: I’m worried that you might be talking to that schmuck right now.
