I’ve always lived by the motto, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stranger.” Yes, you read that right. I said “stranger.” It’s okay to be strange in a world that is trying to make everyone perfect. The more experiences you have, both good and bad, the better you’ll understand what makes you triumphantly stand out. Those who stand out from the masses are the ones who succeed.
The only way to master something quickly and move on to the next challenge is to learn how to be adaptable and wear many different hats. And I had worn so many hats! Before I reached my twenties, I had already witnessed a war, watched my family fall apart, spent time in jail, lived both under a strict regime and in a land of intimidating freedom, and just about everything in between. I knew I hadn’t really seen it all, but it sure as hell felt like I had.
I learned how to navigate my way through challenging situations, deal with people, control my emotions, and act rationally. I understood that nothing comes easily and success doesn’t come without a fight. Nobody grows through a life of rainbows and unicorns. You only grow when you’re faced with tremendously difficult circumstances, and they will prepare you to be greater than you already are. I believed that I had what it took to be a strong woman and comprehended how to “figure it out.” I was ready to enter the next phase of my life.
I was no longer looking to be “cool.” I wanted to become influential. After becoming fluent in English, I once again became a social butterfly, so it wasn’t hard to find a great group of friends. I managed to snag a spot in one of the best social circles in DC by associating myself with people who were motivated and driven, which ultimately put me on the road that I’m on today. My newfound friendships weren’t built on the foundation of being reckless anymore. They were energized by encouraging magnificence in each other, and by wanting more and doing more. The people you associate yourself with throughout your life have an enormous impact on the person you become.
One person in my social circle who particularly impacted me was Mark, the son of an Iraqi immigrant. I admired him as a businessman because he was 100 percent self-made. At a very young age, he valeted cars in Virginia and eventually ended up purchasing the valet company and moving to DC. From there he started a money management business and managed the assets of some of the wealthiest businessmen and women in DC. He was driven, always in pursuit of the next big business deal, and simply a genuine person. Mark’s entrepreneurial spirit and positivity toward life was striking, and as a mentor he was someone I could look up to. He was an immigrant like myself, which made me believe that the American Dream was real.
When I turned twenty-one, I began playing with the idea of having my own fashion line. I thought about it every day, but thinking about it was the only thing that I was doing. One spring day in 2003, I briefly told Mark about my dream and how I didn’t know where to start.
“What are you waiting for?” Mark asked. Don’t you just love when people ask you that? He told me that if I kept making excuses, I would never accomplish anything.
He was right. I always made excuses—“I need capital” or “It’s so competitive.” Instead of spending so much time coming up with reasons why it wouldn’t work, I should’ve spent that time coming up with a million reasons why it would work. As fate would have it, I was given the push I needed just a few months later when I attended the Formula One Canadian Grand Prix in Montreal.
Canada’s most “European” city comes alive during the races. Hundreds of thousands of people from around the world flood in to be a part of the experience. The weekend offered a party-crowd experience of immense proportions. Every hotel, restaurant, and bar was filled with riled-up fans, and it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with the boutiques and the unique street style in the city—from bohemian babes to rock ’n’ roll chic. The race-team-inspired outfits were my favorite, though. I loved all the sexy tailored cuts and silhouettes mixed with stand-out, funky trims and logos. The style of a tomboy coupled with the ability to look nonchalantly sexy was a trend that I recognized as ultracool, ultrapowerful, and ultrasexy!
In honor of the impressive race cars, I bought a fitted red Ferrari polo. Mark’s preppy, cocky friend Sam, who drove his father’s black Lamborghini, made fun of my shirt in front of everyone.
“Where is your Ferrari, sweetie?” What an asshole! Just because I didn’t own a sports car didn’t mean I couldn’t rock the racer outfit. I needed to plot my revenge, so that evening I went to a small arts-and-crafts store and bought black iron-on letters. I ironed them onto my Ferrari polo to spell out: “Daddy’s Car.”
The next morning, I met our group in the hotel lobby wearing my newly transformed top. I walked straight up to Sam and said coyly, “Did you say something about my Ferrari?” Everyone laughed hysterically, except Sam, who was embarrassed. I guess you could say that the shirt was a hit, and all my friends wanted one.
Mark saw what I had created and enthusiastically said, “See, it’s not that hard! This is a great start.”
And he was right. However small, it was a defining moment. People of all ages approached me during the race to ask where they could snag one. I could either kick the idea to the curb and possibly regret it or take a chance on myself.
The second I got back to DC, I got to work. I wanted to test run the “Daddy’s Car” model. I bought a dozen short-sleeved T-shirts in a variety of colors. Then I sewed and ironed on the letters. It wasn’t exactly high-end, but it worked. Within a matter of days, I had already sold the twenty shirts I had made.
I didn’t want to stop at “Daddy’s Car” T-shirts. I spent the next few weeks conjuring up idea after idea. In the end, I crafted ten one-of-a-kind designs adorned with chains, fabric swatches, and paint. I thought the forty-dollar price point (and twenty-dollar profit) was reasonable. With every sale, I grew more confident in my products.
Then my masterpiece (and bestseller) came to me: “Forty Lashes.”
From the front, it looked like any plain white T-shirt with a circular neckline, but it was much more than that. The back was cut through, representing the forty lashes I had received in Iran. I used a cutter like the one I used to cut my father’s leather chair to slash the back of the shirt. My parents would be so proud to know that cutting the leather chair in Tehran would help set me on the path to my new business. It’s almost worth the ruined chair, right Baba?
Trials and tribulations happen in your life so that you can rise to the occasion and seize your own power. I now had the luxury of experiencing freedom, and I also had options. I wouldn’t allow myself to be a victim any longer. It felt so good to wear something on my body that had blossomed from one of my darkest points and that was now giving me strength. I wore it proudly and told everyone the story behind it. Some were fascinated by it, some couldn’t comprehend it.
Although I knew I could take my creations to a wider market, I didn’t feel ready, but I don’t think anyone truly does. I reminded myself that every big thing starts small. Richard Branson started his brand with a youth-culture magazine called Student, which evolved into a multibillion-dollar business. He dropped everything else and just went for it, and that is exactly what I was prepared to do. I was ready to find my greater self—and look good doing it!