The story of a greeting cards chain is really a story about people. We still reach for paper when emotions get loud. Jobs change, malls empty, tastes swing, yet we still sign our names. A folded card can carry more weight than a long email. The business behind that feeling has been on a rough ride.
Greeting cards chain
Specialty retailers have taken punch after punch these past two years. Costs climbed on everything from ribbon to rent, pushed by inflation and tariffs. Interest rates rose and squeezed margins that were already thin. Old leases looked strange once shoppers shifted more trips online. Miss one season, miss your target, and the math gets ugly. Even bright brands felt it.
Industry revenue hovers around $5.6 billion for 2025, a small dip from 2024. That drift adds pressure to forecasts and payrolls. A greeting cards chain lives on holidays, milestones, and impulse buys near the register. When traffic slows, the calendar doesn’t save you. You have to earn every visit, every message, every smile.
Who’s buying, and where they’re finding cards
Americans still buy about 6.5 billion cards each year. Hallmark and American Greetings capture most of those sales, roughly four-fifths of the market. Millennials are the strongest buyers by dollars, which surprises some store owners. They want cards that sound like real people, not polite wallpaper.E-cards had their moment, yet paper keeps winning important days. The challenge sits in distribution.
Grocery and big-box aisles carry deep racks of premium designs. That convenience steals trips from mall stores. Hallmark’s retail footprint tells the tale: about 2,000 shops in 2020, near 1,146 by mid-2025. Closures followed changing habits, not a sudden loss of love for cards. A greeting cards chain fights for relevance one aisle, one neighborhood, at a time.
One operator’s crossroads, written in legalese and hope
Banner’s Hallmark Gold Crown reached for Chapter 11 to reset the board. The petitions landed September 14 in the District of Columbia. Assets and liabilities were each listed between ten and fifty million dollars. The filing names large unsecured creditors: over $6.4 million to Hallmark Marketing Company. More than $5.3 million owed to Crown MAC, and over $3 million to PNC Bank. The petition says funds should be available for unsecured creditors at the end. That sentence matters in rooms where vendors debate shipping another pallet. Banner’s runs thirty-nine stores in Virginia under the Gold Crown banner. It’s licensed, independent, not a franchisee, not company-owned. The chain’s been at this for more than forty-five years.
President and CEO Leonard Banner even served on the Gold Crown Advisory Board. Awards stack up in their story like keepsakes in a shoebox. An attorney’s comment wasn’t available, which happens on filing week. Inside the stores, teams still straighten shelves and refill pen cups. Shoppers still trace foil letters with a fingertip. A greeting cards chain becomes real in those tiny rituals.
That’s why people root for a clean, fair reorganization. Stability keeps local staff employed and customers connected to their favorite corner rack. It also protects relationships with artists, printers, and small vendors. Lose that network and the product loses its voice. Keep it, and the card wall stays electric and human. A greeting cards chain isn’t just inventory; it’s a chorus of makers and moments.
Another niche, same weather pattern
EZPZ tells a parallel story from a different aisle. The brand sells oral-care and feeding gear for kids, plus bowls for pets. Launched on Kickstarter in 2014, it grew into about 160 retail doors. You’ll find products on registries at Target, Amazon, Babylist, and more. There’s a Shopify site, and a tidy grid of SKUs. Competition is fierce: big-box chains, specialty baby shops, and pet superstores. Revenue couldn’t carry debt and rising costs, so they filed Chapter 11 on June 18. Same storm, different boat. Niche players need flawless basics and a reason to visit in person. For card shops, that means curation, staff who remember names, and shelves that feel alive.
Events help: signings with local artists, mini workshops, letter-writing nights. Blend digital and physical: preorder lists for seasonal drops, quick pickup, gentle reminders. Make the wall breathe with fresh voices and honest humor. Give space to communities that rarely see themselves on the rack. Sustainable wraps and recycled stock matter, too. People notice paper that feels good in the hand. Price fairly, explain the craft, and let the design do most of the talking. That’s how a greeting cards chain earns loyalty beyond the holiday rush.
The page you keep for later
The future won’t look like 1995, and that’s okay. Stores will be smaller, smarter, and anchored in service. Online will handle repeats, shipping, and late-night panic buys. Shops will handle discovery, goosebumps, and the card you didn’t know you needed. Lean teams will measure turns and celebrate tiny wins. Vendors will ask tougher questions and demand quicker payments. Landlords will meet retailers halfway on space and terms, or watch bays go dark. The brands that last will speak like humans and design with nerve. They’ll chase humor without meanness and sentiment without syrup.
And they’ll train staff to guide, not hover. They’ll let customers linger and laugh at the spinner rack. Because this business runs on feelings disguised as paper. Ink, texture, timing, and a message that lands just right. When it clicks, you see it in the smile at checkout. That’s the spark worth rebuilding around. And it’s why a greeting cards chain still matters in a noisy world. Not because it’s perfect, but because it helps us say things that are hard to say. One fold, one envelope, one small moment that lasts.