Remember the Tupperware party? | Stephen M. Dowell/Orlando Sentinel/Tribune News Service via Getty Images
Tupperware’s Chapter 11 bankruptcy filing feels inevitable as the brand fell behind the times
This week, after more than 70 years of slinging plastic storage containers of all shapes and sizes, Tupperware Brands announced its intent to file for bankruptcy. In a press release, the company cited “macroeconomic challenges” as the reason for the filing, and is asking for court approval to continue operations during the proceedings. More broadly, it vowed to protect its “iconic brand and further advance Tupperware’s transformation into a digital-first, technology-led company.” But considering the ubiquity of the Tupperware name — which is now used to describe plenty of food storage products not actually made by Tupperware — how did we end up here?
Founded in 1942 by Earl Tupper, Tupperware was, at one time, a revolutionary business model. It offered women the opportunity to make their own money via the “party model,” in which an independent Tupperware representative would host a party, show off the company’s bowls and canisters, and hope that her friends liked them enough to buy a few at the end. We now know this model as “direct sales” or, more pejoratively, “multi-level marketing,” and it’s been roundly criticized as an exploitative way to do business, one that often leaves those who invest in the “opportunity” in serious debt. Most people who engage in a multi-level marketing business won’t ever turn a profit, but that didn’t stop Tupperware from recruiting more than 3 million “independent consultants” — aka salespeople — across the globe by 2020.
Anyone who grew up in the ’80s or ’90s probably remembers their mom attending — or hosting — a Tupperware party. Or maybe you remember seeing those iconic ’70s storage canisters, which still command solid prices in antique malls and on eBay. Tupperware was, for decades, a staple in American kitchens. I still remember my grandmother serving iced sweet tea from a massive brown pitcher from that era, a genius innovation because the totally ’80s colorway hid the inevitable tannin stains from years of holding Luzianne.
In recent years, though, Tupperware has struggled to stay relevant. Collaborations with brands like Vera Bradley and appearances in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel didn’t move the needle much. In 2022, finally sensing a decline in the popularity of Tupperware parties and online MLM sales, Tupperware launched its products in Target, its first-ever distribution deal with a major retailer. That wasn’t enough — in 2023, the company announced that it would need a cash infusion to stay afloat, and this week’s bankruptcy filing indicates that those financial woes have only worsened. Now, it’s estimated that Tupperware has about a quarter of a million consultants actively working to sling its goods, according to NPR.
Certainly a large part of Tupperware’s decline can be attributed to the general decline in popularity of direct sales companies. It’s also true, though, that somewhere along the way, Tupperware appears to have become confused about what its customers actually want in a kitchen product.
Tupperware has gotten really, really weird in recent years. The company has always sold random gadgets and unitaskers — my mom had a Tupperware container designed to store exactly one-half of an onion — but the company has, of late, decided to focus on microwave cookery. One of its current marquee offerings is a pressure cooker that’s meant for use in the microwave, and has incidentally produced some of the most repulsive cooking videos that YouTube has ever seen. If you’ve ever wanted to know what it looks like when you microwave a whole chicken under pressure for 30 minutes, no you actually don’t.
The company also sells a tiered microwave steamer, which claims that it can cook your entire dinner at once, all in the microwave. “In the Stack Cooker, meat stays moist, cakes bake up fluffy, and dips and sauces come out creamier than ever,” the product description reads. “You won’t believe this microwave magic.” On one hand, you have to commend Tupperware for trying to make the drudgery of making dinner every night a little bit easier. On the other, you have to be a little horrified by how the company thinks about cooking, and that anyone would want to eat a cake cooked in a plastic container sitting on top of microwaved chicken.
It’s clear that the idea of quality plastic storage containers was a hit — that’s why we colloquially call everything a Tupperware, even the flimsy plastic takeout containers I insist on keeping — but almost everything else the company has released in recent years is not something anyone truly needs. Sure, we all want dinner to be easier, but we also want it to taste good. In this time of Crock-Pots and Instant Pots and rice cookers and every other gadget under the sun, why in the world would anyone resort to steaming their entire dinner in the microwave?
Ultimately, Tupperware fell behind the times. And while there’s no denying the place that Tupperware has had in American kitchens for the last 70 years, it doesn’t seem like it will have that same place in our future.
