Here Come the DINKs

By Martha Smilgis

The members of this newly defined species can best be spotted after 9 p.m. in gourmet groceries, their Burberry-clothed arms reaching for the arugula or a Le Menu frozen flounder dinner. In the parking lot, they slide into their BMWs and lift cellular phones to their ears before zooming off to their architect- designed houses in the exurbs. After warmly greeting Rover (often an akita or golden retriever), they check to be sure the pooch service has delivered his nutritionally correct dog food. Then they consult the phone-answering machine, pop dinner into the microwave and finally sink into their Italian leather sofa to watch a videocassette of, say, last week's L.A. Law or Cheers on their high-definition, large-screen stereo television.

These speedy high rollers are uppercrust DINKs, double-income, no-kids couples. They flourish in the pricier suburbs as well as in gentrified urban neighborhoods. There is no time for deep freezers or station wagons in their voracious, nonstop schedules. Many enterprising DINK couples slave for a combined 100-hour-plus workweek, a pace relieved by exotic vacations and expensive health clubs. Their hectic "time poor" life-style often forces them to schedule dinners with each other, and in some supercharged cases, even sex.

Consider the pace of Michele Ward, 26, and Kenneth Hoffman, 31, top executives at different Connecticut management-consulting firms. "The prime purpose of our answering machine at home is so we can keep in touch with each other," says Ken of their jammed schedules. For pleasure, they sail and "cook seriously together," whipping up veal Normandy or Persian duck in pomegranate sauce. They subscribe to four gourmet magazines and have a collection of 150 cookbooks. Most recent vacation: three weeks in Tahiti and Bora Bora. "Part of me would like children, but, practically speaking, I don't see how," says Michele, who estimates the earliest date for childbearing is 1993. Their ranch-style house has three bedrooms: one for them, one for the computer and one for their Samoyed, Dillon.

David Eagle, 33, a Hollywood television producer, and Nancy Weingrow Eagle, 31, an entertainment lawyer, also fill out the DINK profile. In order to earn their hefty incomes, each one works 50 to 60 hours a week. They have two dogs and care for them the way they decorate their home -- which is to say, lavishly. "Earthquake, our Labrador-husky mix, has beautiful blue eyes. I have blue eyes, so people think I'm his father," jokes David. "We're going skiing tomorrow and taking both dogs with us." In the late 1960s he supported Eugene McCarthy and was labeled a hippie. In the late 1970s he became a yuppie, and accepts DINK as a natural evolution. Little DINKerbells, however, are not yet part of the progression. "We have big responsibilities just being double income-ites," explains David. "We aren't ready to give up the quality time that is necessary to devote to our careers and transfer that to children."

The origin of the acronym is not known, but it is often attributed to glib real estate agents or to clever marketing M.B.A.s bored with the term yuppie. What separates DINKs from most other Americans is a much greater percentage of discretionary income. "DINKs are one of the few groups that are doing much better than the previous generation," says Frank Levy, an economist at the University of Maryland.

Social pundits warn that DINKdom is often just a transitory state. "It is the moment before tradition sets in," says Faith Popcorn, chairman of New York City's BrainReserve, a hip consulting firm. "There is a desire for security, privacy, a nest. Anything you can make that is easy and secure, warm and available, you can market to their cocoon." Philip Kotler, professor of marketing at Northwestern, divides DINKs into upper and lower classes: U-DINKs and L-DINKs. No doubt, while the L-DINKs are rushing to graduate from K mart to Marshall Field, the U-DINKs will be deserting the Banana Republic for Abercrombie & Fitch. Because busy U-DINKs tend to miss mass-media advertising, upscale magazines and direct mail are the most effective way to target them. Kotler cites the Sharper Image, a top-of-the-line techie catalog, as defining U-DINK style.

The big DINK dilemma is when or whether to have children. In 1986 the cost of raising a child to age 18 averaged almost $100,000; of course, that figure does not include future college expenses. Like many DINKs, William Cohen, 33, an Atlanta lawyer, and Susan Penny-Cohen, 28, founder of a headhunting firm for lawyers and paralegals, have not yet planned to reproduce. "As our income ^ grew, we found that we had less time," says William. Northwestern's Kotler suspects that the double-incomers' frenzy of consumption will exhaust itself, and more couples will see children as desirable: "Children may be the next pleasure source after the DINKs have tried everything else."

Therefore, DINKs will not be the last of the snappy acronyms. Get ready for the TIPS (tiny income, parents supporting) and finally NINKs (no income, no kids).

With reporting by Christine Gorman/New York and Bill Johnson/Los Angeles