I recently read an interesting newspaper article about a lawsuit related to the “6-7” craze that dominated youth culture in 2025 and remains popular well into 2026. If you are unfamiliar with the whole six-seven thing (I’ll have to admit that I was!) it’s a meaningless phrase that originated in the lyrics of this rap song:
and subsequently caught on via a series of viral basketball-related videos like this one:
Makes sense now? I thought not. But for kids, saying the phrase “Six, Seven” along with making the accompanying hand gesture signifies being “in the know”, and like most of these kinds of crazes, it is utterly incomprehensible to those outside said “in group” so it’s a great way to annoy adults.
While you might shake your head and say “silly kids”, crazes among schoolchildren are nothing new, and you can probably remember one or two from your own school days. I must admit that, to my eternal chagrin, I was myself responsible for a minor craze at my school when I was about eleven years old.
The craze centred around a small, white stuffed mouse that a family friend had made for me as a gift. It was a fairly crude representation of a mouse, and somewhat flattened in shape. I named it, for reasons as lost to time as the toy itself, Souse. The toy was small enough to carry in a pocket, and was very cute with a distinctive look. The best thing about Souse was that it was easy to draw:
As you can see, even the most artistically challenged 11-year-old was in with a good chance of drawing a decent souse, even if the side view does look a lot like a smiling tampon.
For whatever reason, my friends and I became obsessed with the little character. We drew souses (sice?) everywhere: on our exercise books, on our bags, on our desks… We made flip-book animations of a souse jumping over obstacles and doing somersaults. We even sewed our own Souse toys from old white PE t-shirts, stuffing them with shredded newspaper in lieu of proper stuffing.
It was a genuine craze, and even had its young detractors – another group of kids formed an Anti-Souse League with its own logo that they drew on their books etc. Friendships were formed and lost, allegiances were formed and broken as people changed sides and even physical altercations between the two sides occurred at an end-of-term Sports Day. We were eleven years old, after all. No doubt our parents and teachers were all bemusedly scratching their heads at all of this and thinking “silly kids”.
The Souse craze didn’t survive the summer holidays, and when we returned to school in September we had all moved on to the next thing. Probably Space Invaders or some other arcade game, and later on, rock music and girls.
Souse was a very modest craze, affecting maybe twenty boys in my year group at school. Certainly nothing compared to other crazes at the time (e.g. Rubik’s cube). It does show, however, how easily a craze can take hold even without the amplifying effects of commercial promotion or today’s social media with its instant global reach.
Let’s get back to the newspaper article I read. Perdue Foods, a multi-billion-dollar producer of chicken products, is suing John Soules Foods, a smaller, Texas-based company, over who has the right to sell “6-7” themed chicken nuggets. Purdue also alleges that the smaller company copied their packaging. Here’s what the two products look like:
As you can see, the packages of the two products have a lot of things in common – the depiction of the product, the hands, the arrows and so on. The Soules packaging notably features a cartoon of Maverick Trevillian, the boy from the viral video shown above. Purdue’s product launched in April of this year, Soules’ in June (on 6/7, naturally), which Purdue hopes will lend some credence to their accusations of copying the packaging. In an article in the New York Times, a law professor says that they may have a difficult time proving that they have the exclusive right either to make chicken nuggets in particular shapes or to use a depiction of the hand gesture that is part of the “6-7” meme.
It will be interesting to see how the case plays out, and indeed if it does before the public’s enthusiasm for all things “6-7” fades away. One aspect of this story that I find interesting is that it is clear that Purdue recognises that there is a finite window of time during which the craze can be monetised – note the “Limited Edition” tag on its packaging – and clearly wants all of the potential profit for itself.
The case is also a fascinating example of how things have evolved and changed over time. It used to be that commercial products or franchises drove the crazes. I mentioned Rubik’s cube already; consider also things like hula hoops, slap bracelets or Beanie Babies. Here we are seeing the opposite thing happening, where a non-commercial craze spontaneously emerging from the internet is driving the creation of commercial products. A quick search on Amazon shows a variety of “6-7” themed products for sale, all trying to cash in on that window of popularity.
It’s a similar situation to the period in the 2010s when all sorts of products featuring moustaches were available. I never found a satisfactory explanation as to why the moustache logo was so popular either, it just… was.
What will be the next viral sensation that launches a range of products in its wake? We know that there will be one, we can only wait and see what it is. In the meantime, do you remember any interesting crazes from your own school days? If so, I’d love to hear about them please let me know in the Comments section of this page, or send me a private message if you prefer via the Contact Me page.
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