Tales of Terror
Issue #35
DIY dames share their woes and warnings
By Venus Zine Staff
Published: March 1st, 2008 | 3:05pm
FAKE CAN BE JUST AS GOOD. OR NOT AT ALL
By Harriet Vine and Rosie Wolfenden
(Tatty Devine)
It was 1999, fashion was dull and minimalist, and we’d just gone into business as Tatty Devine, on a two-girl mission to brighten things up. The first promotional item we made was a watch bracelet. We got a watch catalogue, scanned a big Rolex, changed the brand name to Tatty Devine and put our contact details on the back. We laminated it, added popper buttons, and ta da — bracelet! We sent them out to press, buyers, and important fashion people. One of our precious stockists, a shop in Hong Kong, loved the watch bracelet and wanted 10 to sell. It was just a bit of fun, so we only charged them £2 apiece.
Six months later, a letter arrived. Rolex planned to sue us. We had only been going a year. Was our time up already? But it was out of our hands. The Hong Kong shop settled out of court for 35,000 Hong Kong dollars. They paid up because it was their legal responsibility to ensure that everything they sold was above board. But we still had to pay the shop back somehow. There was no cash, so we had to give them £4,000 worth of Tatty Devine jewelry instead. Ouch. The bracelet hangs in our toilet. (tattydevine.com)
A DIY SWEATSHOP?
By Stacey Appel
(28 Crash)
While perusing a major fashion retailer’s Web site, I came across a posting for a contest. The company was looking for artists to redesign sweaters under the retailer’s label. According to the promotional materials, the company would select 20 favorite designers who would receive monetary compensation and a bio with a link on the retailer’s site, which, the company boasted, would result in tons of free publicity for DIY businesses.
Being a DIY designer, I submitted photos of my work. Two days later, I received an e-mail asking me to participate. I’d been chosen! I would absolutely participate. I really could use the exposure and publicity, even though the pay sucked ($8 a sweater, and I had to use my own materials). I thought the time I spent would pay off once I got plugged on the site.
I spent most of August at my sewing machine and becoming increasingly wary as the project progressed. Was I crazy to accept only $8 a sweater? I kept reminding myself, "It's all for the publicity."
Upon completion, I shipped my 100 sweaters to the company’s headquarters, and two weeks later, my $800 check arrived. But the online bios never did. Eventually, I e-mailed the project manager to ask, "What's going on with the bios and links?" She replied that the company was no longer offering that incentive and was only featuring its three favorite artists instead of all 20 (not so surprisingly, the three “favorite artists” were company employees).
So basically I worked my butt off, completing 100 sweaters for $8 a pop, and I didn't even get a free plug. But, hey, according to the retailer, I should be very proud because my “sweaters are among the top sellers." Sweaters that ultimately had $68 price tags.
ALMOST FAMOUS
By Jennifer Parrish
(Parrish Relics)
My worst business mistake was to not realize that when you send out samples, you may never get them back and you may never get paid for them.
In 1995, when I was just beginning my jewelry-making business, a friend brought in Cher’s gothic catalog, Sanctuary. I thought that my designs would be a great match with what Sanctuary was offering, so I sent her a handmade booklet, with photos of my work, and was thrilled to receive an order for one of the necklaces. I rushed to produce 60 of them, which was a production nightmare in itself as I was living in a new city and had no idea where to shop for supplies. I got a phone call from Cher herself, saying that she loved the necklace but asked me to make them "a little less chubby." That piece, a quartz crystal cross, was in the next catalog and that went pretty smoothly.
Months later they asked for samples of designs to be considered for the next issue. I sent about 10 pieces of my best work, all one of a kind, and a lot of money for a starving artist to invest. Time passed, and I wondered if they had chosen any of the new designs and when they would return the rest. I called all of Sanctuary’s contact numbers, but they’d been disconnected. No more catalog, and I had no idea what happened to the jewelry I sent them. Lost forever!
BIG EVENTS
By Tina Bold
As a DIY concert promoter for non-profit organization fund-raisers I’ve learned from a lot of mistakes. Here are a few of them:
Pitfall Number 1: Miscommunication. Er, no communication.
I booked a show one month in advance. I confirmed everything with
the owner two weeks before the show. I blanketed the community for a
month with fliers. The bands were coming from across the country. When
I got to the venue the night of the show, the people working that night
at the venue said, "We don't have a show tonight." I pointed to the
fliers posted around the venue, as they took calls, telling folks
“there’s no show here tonight.”
"Please get the owner on the phone," I said. When I finally got to talk to him, he straightened it out with the employees, but meantime, they’d been telling folks all day: "No Show."
Moral of the story: Don't trust anyone. Just kidding. Confirm with everyone involved in a production a month in advance, again two weeks in advance, and the week of the show if you think someone might drop the ball. Check the venue’s calendar, request your show to be posted on their Web site, and promotional materials. Sign an agreement if you have to.
Pitfall Number 2: Get a sound check.
I booked a touring act and a local band for a show. I begged 10 of
my closest friends to come to the show to help support the bands. We
all got to the venue at the same time, 30 minutes prior to the show,
and the manager of the venue said, "We don't have a P.A." As a
non-musician, promoting my first show I said, "What does that mean
exactly?" My friend said, "We won't have sound."
Luckily the touring band had booked a second show that night about 10 miles away from the venue. I asked them if my friends’ band could still play. They said, "No problem." We all went to the second venue and saw a great show. In Claremont, California, in 1992, Bikini Kill won a permanent place in my heart.
Pitfall Number 3: Be prepared for anything
Two days before a big benefit with a full bill, the venue owner called
to say, "By the way, I’ve added a band to your benefit, and you need to
pay the band a fee." Major problems: The original agreement said he
would donate the space for this benefit concert; he booked a band on my
already packed bill; he gave me no choice to say yes or no; and he made
us pay the band while everybody else volunteered their time.
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