Bulk mullets for events that don't want to suck. Wedding planners use them. Camp directors use them. Whoever planned your last offsite did not.
Pictured: real events, real venues, real chaos. We don't know how they got there. We're glad they did.
Five questions. About twenty seconds. A diagnosis you can't argue with (legally).
Average wedding flowers cost $3,000 to $5,000.
50 mullet wigs cost $450.
That's about 1/10th of what your soon-to-be wife just spent on flowers. Yikes. But you love her, so...
Nobody remembers the peonies. Everybody remembers the mullets.
Six questions. About thirty seconds. A verdict that will make you confront some things about yourself. Then we ship you the wig version of it.
Mullets hit hard. Everyone that had one loved them. Everybody else wanted one.
"Brooo! Mullets hit hard this past weekend. Everyone that had a mullet loved them, everybody else wanted one."
"I want those mullets out of my goddamn house. You have a job, I don't get what you're trying to do."
"Haha, it was a pretty chill day honestly until we got the mullets out. Then it WAS A RAGER."
Pick a pack size. Surprise Mix means we handle the personality blend. The bag-grab moment is the point.
Direct to your venue, your office, your camp lodge, wherever the chaos is scheduled. Rush options available.
Drop the bag in the middle of the room. Walk away. Watch the dance floor never empty again.
Tap a tier to start an order at that quantity
Discounts apply automatically at checkout. No codes, no logins, no quote forms (unless you really want one).
Not sure on the number? Tap the moment you're throwing. The slider jumps there. Nudge it from anywhere.
Nashville, Scottsdale, rooftop. Mullets in the group photo and the Uber.
Lake house, cabin, cruise. The weekend everyone brings home a story.
The dance floor flip that started the company.
The night before. Smaller, looser, sets the tone.
The 11pm "we are not done" moment.
The opposite of a trust fall.
More Corporate packs coming soon. Looking for something specific? Tell us about your event.
Theme night just got an unfair advantage.
More Camp packs coming soon. Looking for something specific? Tell us about your event.
Stock the closet once. Use it forever.
More Venue packs coming soon. Looking for something specific? Tell us about your event.
Milestone birthdays, mostly. 30s, 40s, 50s. The party they post about.
Saturday morning, charcoal grill, somebody's truck, opening kickoff.
Class reunion, family reunion, college roommates. The icebreaker that actually works.
The one night a year mullets aren't even the weirdest thing on someone's head.
Midnight needs a moment. This is the moment.
A bag of mullets sized for the moment when dinner ends and the dance floor is suspiciously empty. The Maid of Honor pulls it out. The bride's father puts one on first. The grandmother puts one on second. The rest takes care of itself.
Five upsells. Tick the ones you want. They carry into whichever pack you buy.
One always disappears. One always gets stepped on. One always ends up in the pool. We've watched this happen. We've watched it happen at YOUR event before it even started.
We replace any insured wig, no questions asked. We will not request photos. We will not call you a liar. We will not subject you to a claims adjuster named Brent.
Sunglasses, headband, mustache. The complete bag-grab moment. Three add-ons in the same bag, color matched to the wig, packed for the moment the energy peaks.
Your logo, names, event date on printable activation materials. A welcome sign for the bag-grab moment. Insert cards in each wig. A thank-you note for the host. Branded for venues, weddings, offsites, anyone who wants the moment to look intentional.
Your event is this weekend. We get it. Pay the upcharge. Stop reading this card. Go.
Bulk pricing isn't a discount. It's how this product was designed to be sold. The math gets cleaner the more you order.
This product was built for events. A wedding has 80 guests. A team offsite has 40. A camp session has 200. We didn't make a $40 wig and dare you to buy 100. We made a $9 wig that scales to $5 at the volumes the people we're talking to actually order.
The bigger your order, the simpler the math. There is no membership tier. There is no coupon code. There is no Slack DM to a sales rep asking for an exception. The price you see is the price you pay.
Branded packaging at scale, custom wig designs, ongoing venue contracts, year-long multi-event deals. We work with one buyer at a time on these. Tell us what you're building.
Placeholder. Real story coming once the contract closes.
Placeholder. Real story coming once the company says we can use their name.
The pack that started the company.
From $9 eachA bag of mullets sized for the moment when dinner ends and the dance floor is suspiciously empty. The Maid of Honor pulls it out. The bride's father puts one on first. The grandmother puts one on second. The rest takes care of itself. The wedding photographer's reel from that night becomes the couple's recap video.
This is the pack that flipped a wedding in Austin and started Mullet Party. We have not improved on it. We don't think we need to.
The opposite of a trust fall.
From $9 eachA bag of mullets for the part of the offsite agenda labeled "team building" that everyone has been dreading since the calendar invite went out. The HR director will put one on. The regional VP will put one on. The intern who hasn't said a word all day will put one on and lead the conga line.
The activity employees actually mention in their LinkedIn About section. Probably tax deductible, check with your CPA.
Theme night just got an unfair advantage.
From $7 eachA bag sized for an entire cabin, an entire color war team, or an entire end-of-session dance. Talent night turns into a Mullet Party. Color wars turn into a Mullet Party. The director's office hides the bag until it's needed.
Stash one bag at camp. Pull it out twice a session. Everyone goes home with a photo their parents will not understand.
Stock the closet once. Use it forever.
From $7 eachEnough mullets to outfit every event you host for a year. Wedding venues, breweries, bowling alleys, bars, comedy clubs. Auto-restock when you drop below 50 units.
The pack venue coordinators thank their predecessors for. Plug it into your event SOP. Let the bag do the work.
The weekend everyone brings home a story.
From $11 eachA bag for the Lake House, Nashville, Scottsdale, or wherever this weekend lands. Mullets in the group photo. Mullets in the bar. Mullets in the Uber. The friend who didn't want to come now wants to come.
This is what bachelor party group chats are for.
Nashville, Scottsdale, rooftop. Mullets in the group photo and the Uber.
From $9 eachA bag sized for the weekend. The bride in the headliner mullet, the maid of honor making sure the bag opens at the right second, the rest of the group photo making it onto everyone's grid.
The night before. Smaller, looser, sets the tone.
From $9 eachA pack for the night before. Out-of-town family meeting in-laws, toasts running long, the wedding party loosening up. The bag opens at dessert. The parents wear them in every photo the next day.
The 11pm "we are not done" moment.
From $9 eachA bag for the half of the wedding that is not ready to go home. Moved the speaker into the hotel suite, ordered a second round, took the formalwear off. The mullets stay on.
The Tuesday that turns into the night people text about Wednesday.
From $9 eachA pack sized for a single venue's weekly karaoke run. Pass the bag at the third song, watch the regulars commit, watch the night fill the floor.
Your venue's birthday. Make it a Mullet Party.
From $9 eachA pack for the venue anniversary, the brewery five-year, the bar that hit a decade. Open the bag once during the speeches. End the night in every customer's camera roll.
Weekly programming with one secret weapon.
From $9 eachA pack sized for the venue's weekly themed night. Quote of the night, prize for the best mullet, photo wall against the front door, line by 9pm.
When the dance floor needs a kick at 10:47pm.
From $9 eachA pack for the venue that already books Saturdays out and now wants the photo set to match. Drop the bag at the right minute. Send the photos to the marketing inbox by Monday.
Milestone birthdays, mostly. 30s, 40s, 50s. The party they post about.
From $9 eachA pack sized for a 30th, 40th, 50th. Hand a mullet to the guest of honor first. Watch the rest fall in. The next day's group chat decides this birthday gets a sequel.
The one night a year mullets aren't even the weirdest thing on someone's head.
From $9 eachA pack for the Halloween party that already has good snacks, good lighting, and a host who wants the costumes coordinated without making everyone shop. The mullet is the costume. Done.
Midnight needs a moment. This is the moment.
From $9 eachA pack for the New Year's Eve party that already has champagne and a countdown and is still missing something. The bag opens at 11:55. Midnight has a moment.
Class reunion, family reunion, college roommates. The icebreaker that actually works.
From $9 eachA pack for the reunion where everyone has been holding their breath since the LinkedIn invitation went out. Open the bag at the welcome drinks. Watch the awkwardness leave the room.
Saturday morning, charcoal grill, somebody's truck, opening kickoff.
From $9 eachA pack for the tailgate that already has the grill, the cooler, and 18 people in matching jerseys. Add one bag of mullets. The photos go up before kickoff and stay up all season.
Dinner has wrapped. The older crowd is settling in. The dance floor is sparse. That's the moment. The mullets come out. The bag empties. Nobody sits down again.
Order The Reception Pack * Or a little bit of your money back.
Average wedding flowers cost $3,000 to $5,000.
50 mullet wigs cost $450.
That's about 1/10th of what your soon-to-be wife just spent on flowers. Yikes. But you love her, so...
The bridal party went straight from first dance to mullets. The dance floor never emptied after that.
Nobody remembers the peonies. Everybody remembers the mullets.
The dance floor flip that started the company.
Lake house, cabin, cruise. The weekend everyone brings home a story.
Nashville, Scottsdale, rooftop. Mullets in the group photo and the Uber.
The night before. Smaller, looser, sets the tone.
The 11pm "we are not done" moment.
Bulk pricing built for camps. Order once, deploy across every theme night, color war, talent show, and end-of-summer dance. Saves you $2,700+ versus Amazon at 150 units.
Order The Camp Pack $2,700 in saved budget. Spend it on something else.Camp directors plan in March, panic in May, and run out of theme night ideas by week three of session. Mullets solve all three problems with one PO.
At 150 units, you're at $1,050 from us versus $3,750 on Amazon. That's $2,700 in your camp budget that doesn't go to Bezos. Spend it on something else, or just expense it as "programming supplies, multi-purpose" and watch your director nod.
Theme nights, color wars, talent shows, end-of-summer dance, counselor talent show, the entire week of senior session, the bunk that earned camper-of-the-week, the one kid whose mom forgot it was hat day. Mullets work for all of it.
Pick the line items you would actually order. We will translate them into the language your Finance team approves without flinching.
Actual descriptions on Mullet Party invoices are even funnier. We have watched them clear finance approval at companies of every size.
Birthdays, Halloween, New Year's, reunions, tailgates. Send the bag. Open the bag. Watch the night change. Photos posted, group chats moved, plans made for next year.
See the Parties packs
Buy the moment in a bag. Open it when the room needs it.
Milestone birthdays, mostly. 30s, 40s, 50s. The party they post about.
The one night a year mullets aren't even the weirdest thing on someone's head.
Midnight needs a moment. This is the moment.
Class reunion, family reunion, college roommates. The icebreaker that actually works.
Saturday morning, charcoal grill, somebody's truck, opening kickoff.
Not the food. Not the playlist. Not the seating chart you spent four hours on. The only thing standing between your event and a night people actually remember is fifty mullets and the nerve to open the bag at the right second. Here is the whole method. It is shorter than the seating chart.
Count your guests. Add fifteen. The one who says "we won't need that many" is the same one who runs out at nine and has to explain to Brenda why she is the only adult in the room without a mullet. Do the math, then ignore it and round up.
The bag does not come out at hello. It does not come out during the toast. You wait. Dinner winds down, the playlist gets brave, and there is a flat thirty seconds where the night decides whether it is going to be a night or just a thing that happened on a Saturday. That is the moment. Open the bag then.
Read this one twice. You never assign a mullet. You hold the bag open and make people reach in blind. That is the Surprise Mix: nobody knows who is getting the silver fox, who is getting the platinum disaster, and who is getting the one we are not legally allowed to describe. People argue with a wig they were handed. People defend a wig they pulled out of a bag with their own hand.
Somebody breaks the seal and it is you. The second the host puts one on, the lawyer puts one on, your aunt puts one on, and the guy who swore he "wasn't really going to wear one" puts one on. The host going first is permission. Skip it and everyone stands around holding hair, waiting to be told it is allowed.
Now do nothing. Genuinely nothing. The mullets do the rest. Your only remaining job, for the next four hours, is to never say the word "professional" and to make sure somebody is taking photos, because tomorrow nobody is going to believe you.
Here is the part we actually mean. The night you remember is never the expensive one. It is the one where everybody looked ridiculous at the same time and finally stopped performing. That is the entire thing a mullet does. It breaks the mirror. It's good to have fun.
Stock the bagEveryone gets a cover identity, a camera, and missions they cannot explain to the people watching them. Photograph the person in the Wendy pigtails looking guilty. Do not say why. The wigs are the disguises, the evidence, and the way you find your target.
The solo demo plays the whole night on one phone, all nine guests included. Running it for real? Open Agent HQ, host a room, and every guest joins on their own phone.
A different night, same wigs. The Last Ladle is a ninety minute mystery you run yourself. 44 years of county chili war, one trophy gone in the dark, and 6 to 14 people who each get a character, a mullet, and a reason to lie. One phone goes around the room, everybody answers in private, and the ending stays sealed until the timer hits zero. Then it gets weird. We are not going to tell you how.
One phone runs the whole night, no host experience needed. Want the room cast blind and fair? Start with the casting quiz. Want to see how it plays before you round up a crowd? Run a solo demo.
One phone goes around the table. Everybody answers ten questions in private, then we deal each person a character and a mullet. Nobody picks their own. One of you quietly gets the role the whole night turns on.
Read the scene aloud, start the timer, and start lying. Clues drop in rounds. Everybody had a reason to want the Ladle gone. Accusations fly, alliances form, the DJ stays on.
When the timer hits zero, somebody reads the envelope out loud. That is all we will say. It is not the ending anyone guesses, and that is the entire point.
A mullet for every character, a stack of stick on mustaches, and the digital kit and casting quiz free in the box. Built for 6 to 14 players. You bring the people and the questionable decisions.
Six to fourteen friends. One stolen ladle. The opposite of a trust fall.
Latin, loosely: remember you must diemullet.
noun · philosophy · invented in Albuquerque
The Romans had a practice called memento mori. “Remember you must die.” Their generals, the story goes, kept a guy on payroll whose entire job during the victory parades was to walk a step behind them and whisper it in their ear so the win wouldn't go to their heads. Two thousand years later, we have our own version.
“Do every act of your life as though it were the last act of your life.”
“Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.”
“Seize the day, trust as little as possible in tomorrow.”
Memento Mullet. The understanding that the time you have is finite, the parties you'll go to are finite, and the count of Saturdays you can still rescue drops by one every seven days. The wig is the wearable form of that math.
And if you invite us to your wedding, your offsite, your fundraiser, or your party of any size, we would love to keep that tradition going. By following people around and whispering the modern take in their ears.
/məˈmɛn.toʊ ˈmɔːri/
noun. Latin.
An object or symbolic reminder of inevitable death. A medieval practice of meditating on mortality as a corrective to vanity, fashionable in monasteries, military triumphs, and Renaissance still life painting.
“Non exiguum temporis habemus, sed multum perdidimus.”
“It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it.”
We live like there will be more nights, forever. We kill time on the couch with our friends killing time on the couch next to us, scrolling the same six apps, ordering the same delivery, agreeing we should hang out more.
We end up with a small collection of nights we'll actually remember, and a much larger collection of nights we endured because we couldn't think of anything better. We do this because somewhere under everything we still believe we'll live forever, and death is the one party we refuse to RSVP to.
“Dum differtur vita transcurrit.”
“While we are postponing, life speeds by.”
“You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.”
Memento Mullet is the cure, on a thirty minute timer.
You put one on and for thirty minutes you are not the version of yourself that shows up to work on Monday. You are some other guy. Some guy with a haircut his mother would have words about. Some guy who would absolutely lead a conga line at a wedding he wasn't invited to.
“To philosophize is to learn how to die.”
“Let death and exile, and every other thing which appears dreadful, be daily before your eyes; but most of all death: and you will never entertain any abject thought, nor too eagerly covet anything.”
Everyone else in the room is wearing one too. Everyone else is dancing badly. Everyone else looks equally ridiculous. For thirty minutes, nobody is the version of themselves they're contracted to be the rest of the time. That guy has more fun than your normal guy. That night gets a name.
And Memento Mullet is not anarchy. Who would walk the bride's mother through her toast? Who would tip the band? Who would save the open bar from the groomsmen? Who would supervise the campers at dawn? Who would face HR on Monday? Who would run the offsite's 9am breakout? It is about going legendary on purpose. The Stoics would have called it living in alignment with the brevity of your time. We call it not wasting Saturday.
“Felix qui semper horam mortis ante oculos habet, et quotidie se ad moriendum disponit.”
“Happy is he that always has the hour of his death before his eyes, and that prepares for it every day.”
Stiff offsites become the offsite new hires hear about during onboarding. Receptions where nobody's danced yet flip in under five minutes. Sales kickoffs end with the regional VP doing the worm.
A wedding in Austin. A fortieth birthday in someone's actual backyard. A brewery opening. A fundraiser. More company offsites than we can count. Nobody has ever put one on in a room of other people putting one on and not had a great time. We have no idea why this is true. We just know it is.
“Protinus vive, et singulos dies singulas vitas puta.”
“Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life.”
Don't live every night like the world is ending. That would be a disaster.
Throw your weddings, your offsites, your camp finales, and your Saturday nights like you're not sure which one is the last.
Get your shit together. Place the order today. Pretend that night is tonight.
Memento Mullet. Wear the wig.
Start your order...and our sarcastic answers.
Standard bulk orders go through the shop. This form is for everything else: 500+ units, custom branding, venue partnerships, wholesale for resale, and "what if we did something completely insane."
