But Dent’s statement is half-formed. I think it should continue. Something like this:
“You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. And then you either die a villain, or you live long enough to see yourself become the hero again.”
I mean, it happens for Batman, once he sets the record straight in the third chapter and reclaims his honor. It worked for George W. Bush, a war criminal turned convivial oil painter, warmly welcomed back as a relief to the Trump presidency. And we saw it validated with The Hundreds. We climbed out of our hole after years of crushing disappointments and runaway failure. By late 2016, our brand was on the upswing again.
Look, it wasn’t all us. Our business was healthier, we were working smarter, but streetwear was also in vogue again thanks to Kanye West’s aura. Taking cues from his Yeezy collection, rappers reworked their merch with streetwear scarcity. Kanye’s biggest effect was opening the door to high fashion interference. Streetwear’s postrecession slump laid waste to almost every brand from our generation, but from the ashes arose an onslaught of stronger and faster designers in the fashion space. Love it or hate it, the rising tide lifted all boats, high and low and the hundreds in between.
“You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”
Fashion has the shortest memory of all.
Just a couple years prior, circa 2011, “streetwear” as a fashion category was counted out. The market grew up and out of Nike SB Dunks and full-zip hoodies. Mustachioed men with SS haircuts shopped for looks to declare this coming of age: Red Wing boots, cuffed selvage denim, craft beer. You know, serious man stuff.
First, they expunged the big logos. Then the market wanted no graphics on their T-shirts at all (this was a heavy blow against streetwear’s profitability). Finally, no T-shirts. Real men, the customer was told, wore button-downs and were profiled on The Sartorialist. Funny thing is, the last time this happened was in the early 2000s, when Jay-Z expressed his desire to jettison baggy pants and Rocawear and dress like a businessman (or a business, man!). I remember the NikeTalk thread, pinned to the top of the forum, for all the guys who’d discarded their Prps jeans and Bape hoodies to “dress older.” At the time, that meant Band of Outsiders, and tailored suits, and Italian leather. But I scoffed at that phraseology. Fashion nerds were always arriving at these arbitrary destinations, glazed with elitism. Of course, that “grown-up” trend also evaporated once our class of streetwear stepped onto the scene.
Not more than five years later, the Americana trend had faded. The headlines wandered over to the new kid on the block: luxe streetwear. Right back to baggy cargos, clunky basketball shoes, and funny hats. Again. And we were right here, waiting to catch that pendulum.
Nothing lasts forever. Not stores, not authentic cultures, not even the cities they call home. And certainly not streetwear. The clock is ticking. Then it’s on to suiting or ballroom gowns or whatever, trad menswear again. The only thing that you can count on in this business is this endless loop of innovation and response. Fashion is a room of mirrors, an infinite reaction to itself, and so is business, really. My late therapist and mentor Dr. Lauren Ozen framed this for me best. She charted life along a series of struggles and prosperous moments: “THRIVE. SURVIVE. THRIVE. SURVIVE.”
The hard part is you don’t know when the next sentence begins. But the longer you stick around, the sharper you can correct course when it does.
“And then you either die a villain, or you live long enough to see yourself become the hero again.”
Rinse. And repeat.
EPILOGUE
EVERY MORNING, I wake at dawn. I make my sons breakfast and dress them for school as my wife gets ready for work. I frown at the news on my phone. I scoop out some avocado, dust my bite with some sea salt, and scan the surf report. An hour later, I’m sitting out in the cold green water of Venice Beach.
As with all sports and hobbies, surfing holds its share of life metaphors. This is a big piece of why surfers do it. Something about the elements (the movement of the air, the storm-turned water, the roiling sand underneath) colliding in a singular moment inspires and intrigues us.
I examine the lineup. There are the anxious teenagers, feverishly hacking away at the foaming crest with their short boards. There are the silver veterans with leathery skin, anchored to the horizon on splintering long boards. The beginners crowd the whitewash inside with their Costco foam boards, yelping, gurgling, and celebrating small victories.
Even the amateur can tell you that surfing is a lot like real estate: Timing. And location, location, location. If you watch long enough, you’ll see most surfers reading the waters and paddling their brains out to the swelling point right before it bursts. More accomplished surfers, however, appear always to be in the right place at the right time, as if they were willing the earth to roll the surf’s peak in their direction.
Some days I try like hell. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ll thrash after a wave, only to have it curl right through me and collapse like Jenga blocks. My heart racing, my arms rubbery, I’ll look up just in time to watch a graceful long boarder take two freestyle strokes, lean into a slope with her weight, rise up, and tread the plank like a ballerina.
It’s right around that moment that I’m thinking of when I allegorize surfing to work (between dolphins and sun rays, it’s the rare window in my day to think about nothing at all—until, of course, my mind retreats back into work and legacy). There are career highs, when you’re simply in the right place at the right time and you catch the universe’s momentum. It’s a fun ride. Then there are the slumps; no matter how hard you push, the earth spins out of your favor. A deep, heavy current tugs you downward.
The secret: knowing when and where to position yourself when the pendulum swings your way and the moment hits. You can’t control the cosmos, but you can study and get in position for its curveballs. This is an education culled from time and experience and patience—those very things that neither money nor Instagram followers nor power can buy.
Time.
Things take time and time takes fortitude. Will immediate gratification and impatience be our downfall in the digital age? I will wait half a morning for the currents to align and the right wave to connect at my post. When it does, I have conserved all my energy for that juncture. I will own that flash.
I will wait half a lifetime to get this right, and when I do, I will ride that peeling line as the ocean surrenders to me.
THE BEGINNING
FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS
I WISH THERE were a way that I could answer all of your questions. To sit down with each of you starting a brand, embarking on a new chapter of your life and seeking advice. The closest thing I could think of was to write this comprehensive list of answers to my most frequently asked questions. I used to post this on my original blog, and lately I’ve been emailing this form to anyone who’s interested in learning. I’m glad you asked and I hope it helps. Good luck and keep going …
Do you have any advice for my brand?
I can give you the boilerplate answers: Work hard. Have fun. But the truth is, I don’t have advice for you and your brand specifically. I just told you how we did it—the saga of The Hundreds. But that’s our way, in a different time and context, and it won’t work the same for you.
Every brand is different, born of its own special set of circumstances. Every story is unique. Also, my philosophy on brand building is centered on responding to—or even fighting against—the brands that came before you. I know this is a confusing way to kick off this FAQ, but if you truly want to stand out, you should be reading my advice and then doing the exact opposite.
What does “The Hundreds” mean?
It does not stand for money. It’s about community: strength in numbers. Our mantra is “People over Product.”
How do I pick a name for my brand?
Oh, the fun part! (Hold on to days like these; they are the most e
xciting times!) Look, it’s important to pick a good name, but don’t overthink it. With time, your legacy will ultimately bestow the name with meaning. Before Steve Jobs, “apple” was a perfect name for a sweet, crunchy fruit and a strange label for a computing machine.
Choose a name that represents you and your perspective on the world. Every brand should have a purpose and a reason. I’m not interested in designers or labels that exist “just because.” Just because you like streetwear. Just because you want to make money. Just because you want clout. So, first, why are you doing this?
You’re doing this to be heard.
You should feel as if the marketplace is flooded with bad ideas. That everybody else is doing it wrong and you know best. You should feel marginalized, disenfranchised, and counted out by existing brands. If no one is gonna represent you, then you’ll do it yourself!
When we started, Ben and I knew that culture was vital to our project. The blog and web magazine were about bringing our community together and educating them. Same for our stores, events, and social media interaction. Some brands revolve around skateboarding or drugs or food. Others are politically driven. Some are about hometowns. Ours was about people, relationships, and movements (that’s why we called it The Hundreds), and these were themes that I felt were missing from the brands of the time.
Once you settle on a few names, do some broad sweeps of the internet to see if they’re already taken or could be confused with existing brands. Scrub through social networks; search the hashtags. You can also run the name through USPTO.gov to see if it has been registered as a trademark. Chances are it’s already been taken, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use it. It’ll just be more of an uphill battle to clear that name the bigger you get. So, I suggest starting clean and making it easy on yourself. Don’t pick obvious and commonplace words. You are unique. So is your brand. Your name should follow accordingly.
How do I start a streetwear brand?
First, you are starting a small business. The rules differ by state, but in general you have to register as a business structure (DBA, corporation, or LLC), open a bank account (to keep the company’s money separate from your own), and then get a license to do business. These are easily googleable steps.
More important, you should do your research. I know Instagram tells you differently, but streetwear isn’t just hoodies, sneaker reselling, and screen-printed graphics. Like rap, skateboarding, or anything worthwhile, you must know the history. This isn’t just about paying your respects; it’s for your benefit. History is there to teach us what did and didn’t work in the past. It’s a cheat sheet of shortcuts. Why repeat someone else’s mistakes or even successes? You want your brand to be a distinct and extraordinary chapter in streetwear’s history.
Do I need to worry about copyrights and trademarks?
Not necessarily now. I’d wait a bit to see if you catch some momentum. Trademarks (intellectual property, or IP) are costly, can involve lawyers, and take a lot of hours. I know you are ready to marry this brand and only see infinity in the future, but take some time to date and explore the relationship. After the initial rush wears off and you’re in the weeds of your brand development, you may think of a better name. Your partners may drop out. You may lose interest. So, I don’t want you to have sacrificed all this time and expense in registering trademarks for nothing. I think you’ll know when the time is right to commit. (Of course, you wouldn’t be foolish to consult an attorney about this.)
How much product should I give away to friends, or as a marketing expense?
There’s no right answer here. There are old industry formulas that companies use to calculate an optimal return on investment (such as 10 percent of your marketing budget should go to giving out free clothes), but I go by gut more than math. It’s nice to take care of the good homies and family who supported your endeavors, but it’s also important for them to show their endorsement by chipping in some dollars, even if you offer the product to them at a discounted price.
As far as promo (sending out free clothes to notable personalities), Ben and I have never quite adopted that program. Some brands are built entirely on influencers, while others sponsor athletes and musicians. I agree it’s important for your brand to have a “face” so that the customer sees a connection between your clothing and a community. However, I would prefer it to be more organic. So even if you’re not friends with a celebrity, I believe it goes much further for your brand to show up on someone making noise in your own neighborhood than on a YouTube star with millions of subscribers.
How important is social media?
How important is electricity? Critical, yet at the same time, no big deal.
Social media is a tool, so treat it like a hammer or a car. It’s not what makes or breaks your brand, but it can help you to get the job done. Instead of worrying about the tool, think of the person using it: the driver, the artisan, the storyteller. That’s you. Focus on the message most of all, and then work on how you’ll get it out there. There will always be another device to help you communicate, amplify your voice, and reach your audience. Newspapers, radio, commercials. Today it’s social media. Tomorrow it’s VR and AR phone games. The technology itself is interchangeable. The people behind it are irreplaceable.
There are also other means of marketing and raising brand awareness that don’t involve social media. Parties and community-based events tie brands to social experiences. Stickers and wheatpaste campaigns can have better results than a Facebook ad. It can be more productive to impact a few people locally than to flash across someone’s feed. For The Hundreds, collaborations are an effective way to cross-pollinate two niche fan bases that would otherwise have nothing to do with each other. For example, we know the MF Doom or Fatburger or Marvel fan is hard-core. So is The Hundreds fan. One plus one equals two, and after a successful collaboration, we now have double the rabid followers.
How do you do a collaboration?
The objective of any collaboration is not only to better tell your story but also to build onto your brand in a meaningful way. Collaborations should enhance your brand, tell another side that people don’t know about. Make you multifaceted instead of one-dimensional.
It’s a weird analogy, but collaborating is like hooking up with someone. You will rub off on each other, so choose partners in good standing and with strong names that can only benefit your brand. In other words, try to always date up. We have this unwritten rule that—especially when working with big partners—The Hundreds has to come away looking as if we gained the most from the arrangement. A collaboration is also a cosign, so it will affect your reputation. Be careful whom you vouch for.
The collaboration should also make sense. Even if it might look like an odd pairing at first, make sure that the project is supported by a compelling origins story. This will help layer the brand’s narrative and plant deeper roots with your audience.
As far as contracts and agreements, they vary. There are handshake agreements over drinks and cocktail napkins where everyone splits the baby fifty-fifty. There are heavy-duty licensing contracts with entertainment studios where they take a 12 percent royalty. You can pay a partner a flat fee up front. Every collaboration is different and is strung together with its own deal points.
What’s your favorite collaboration?
This is the most common question I get asked. Maybe because we’ve done so many impactful collaborations over our fifteen years: Casio G-Shock, Looney Tunes, Mister Cartoon, Revelation Records, adidas, CLOT, Kenny Scharf, Reebok, X-Large, and so on. This answer changes constantly, but today I’d say the two times we’ve worked with Garfield were my favorite co-branded projects to date. There was a lot of meaning and history to collaborating with Garfield, in that as a kid I learned how to draw by reading those comic strips. It was also a fun and easy experience to work with the cartoonist Jim Davis himself. It’s always nice to collab with partners who “get it” and are willing to break some rules, try something new, and get crea
tive. The worst projects are the ones where our partners see the deals as moneymaking plays and care little about innovation. The point of every collaboration should be to create something that’s never existed before.
I can make T-shirts, but I want to make real clothing now.
First of all, why? Is it to make money? Because the hard truth is that many brands go out of business by venturing into cut-and-sew apparel. Designing clothing is a different ball game from illustrating T-shirt graphics. Production is on an entirely different level, and it consumes so much more capital. Meanwhile, there are plenty of T-shirt labels over the decades that have made hundreds of millions of dollars by selling one-color screen prints on stock T-shirts made in Mexico.
Is it to get respect? That’s a terrible reason to get into clothing. If you don’t care deeply and passionately about garment design, sewing, construction, and sourcing fabrics, then you will produce subpar clothing that will degrade your brand. The best clothing designers are nerds about the technicalities and process. Otherwise, you will burn out quickly.
If you are that person, however, then cut-and-sew may be your thing. You can make clothes locally and it’s honorable, but it can be prohibitively expensive, time-consuming, and, surprisingly, of poor quality. If you are considering overseas production, you can walk the floors of a sourcing trade show to be connected with factories. If you don’t have personal relationships with anyone in the industry, you can also scour the internet for leads: Reddit, Alibaba … Don’t be afraid to knock on doors and ask for help. Don’t stop until you get answers.
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