Eventually, the Tala curse lifted. A few weeks after the disaster with my first swimsuit collection, a friend of mine named Josh, who owned a men’s T-shirt company based in DC, approached me about the possibility of collaborating with the Washington Wizards NBA dance team. Sign me up immediately! I played basketball in high school, and Aria was really into it and watched every single game. I couldn’t wait to tell him that I was going to design swimwear for an NBA team. This is a great example of the unexpected opportunities that the entrepreneurial journey can bring.
I was overjoyed about the sponsorship. This type of offering from heaven doesn’t present itself every day, especially when you’re a brand-new swimwear designer. I gifted the dancers Dar Be Dar bikinis for their yearly calendar and hosted a fashion show to promote it. In exchange for Josh’s introduction, I imprinted his company logo on one of the photographed bikinis. This was not only the perfect marketing opportunity for my line, but also, to top it all off, the proceeds went to charity.
The calendar shoot was scheduled to take place a few weeks later on the gorgeous beaches of the Virgin Islands. I found myself, eager and overwhelmed, in the Verizon Center’s changing room for my first Dar Be Dar fitting with the Wizard Girls. My roommate Mariana helped with the fitting process because of her love for NBA players. (Hey, I’ll take all the help I can get.) My staff has always consisted of my friends and family, thanks to their incredible support for me and my cause. I’m sure some of them would argue that I conned them into helping me, but whatever the reason, thanks a bunch guys!
The sample-size bikinis from Mik didn’t fit the dancers’ athletic body frames, but we made them work by mixing and matching tops and bottoms, cutting the sides of some, and adding fabric to others. I had to roll with the punches again and recreate my designs under pressure. The women were extremely nice and supportive, which is always refreshing in an industry where people can often be intimidating. The photos in the calendar turned out decently, but my overly critical self knew that I could’ve done better. Regardless, I was still proud of what I had accomplished. I was just two months into creating my line, and I had already sponsored the Wizards dance team.
Now that I had the Wizards sponsorship under my belt and Magic Samples as a supplier, I felt like I was ready to attack something bigger. I was clearly overambitious, or shall I say, delusional. Whatever it was, I felt confident enough to call Eric for another investment. After contemplating over the next few weeks, he got back to me saying, “Just the fact that you never give up gives me a reason to invest in you.” I treasured his belief in me. His investment, albeit small, was enough to produce more samples and get me to Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Swim in Miami.
Every July, thousands of hopeful swimwear and beachwear brands crowd into Miami for the biggest swim fashion week and trade show showcasing fashions from around the world. Only select, well-known designers can participate in the runway shows. These designers are usually familiar names whose lines are displayed on supermodels strutting down the catwalk. But hundreds of other designers, like me, who can’t participate, can show their seasonal designs to international media, buyers, and swimwear fashionistas at the Miami Beach Convention Center, which has hosted the trade show for the past nine years.
The designers here set the beach and poolside trends for the following season. They plan for months, and most of their energy is spent creating their newest collections and picture-perfect booths to showcase them in. The trade shows and runway shows are compiled into a five-day fashion week event, with satellite events in ritzy hotels and restaurants around town. More than 2,500 lines have been exhibited at the trade show, which has attracted thousands of buyers from more than sixty countries. This was such a big undertaking that, as an amateur, I probably should’ve thought twice before signing myself up. But hey, at that point I was thinking either go big or go home!
However, when I got in touch with the swim show’s VP, she informed me that registration had already closed months ago. I asked her to reconsider and immediately emailed her images of the Wizards dance team photo shoot along with pictures of my stunning friend modeling the bikinis. I even mailed her physical samples. Something must have caught her eye, because she gave me the green light. Win! Who cares that the small booth she gave me would end up being a very costly investment. I could simply kiss eating for the next month good-bye. Hello, ramen noodles! Hola, Miami!
All my time leading up to the show was devoted to preparing for this giant opportunity for my line. In addition to my signature styles, I designed eight new ones. My original twelve-piece collection wasn’t enough. I made and printed lookbooks (crafty catalogs) and flyers to present to the thousands of buyers who would visit my booth. Wowing them was obviously my goal. I went shopping for over-the-top accessories to decorate the booth. I purchased some fancy round metal hangers for all the swimwear to hang on, as well as an elegant vase to put flowers in.
I arrived at Miami International Airport and headed straight to the convention center. My friend Lauren and I, dressed to the nines, dragged my two large suitcases across the hallways of the convention center, in heels no less. Unfortunately, we stuck out like virgins at a porn-star convention. Our dressy outfits on setup day, friendly attitudes, and naive optimism were all dead giveaways.
A few years ago I worked as an event coordinator for an IT company and was sent to a few trade shows to support the sales team. Exhibitors at those shows would high-five each other, closing millions of dollars’ worth of deals, but that is not the vibe at a fashion trade show. People barely wanted to talk to us. No one thought we were cool, and the energy was very hot-and-cold.
All I could think about as we navigated through the massive building was how insignificant I felt next to all the well-established brands. Some designers set up runways and hung chandeliers, while others set up bars, fake pools, and beaches. These weren’t booths—they looked more like high-end boutiques! How could I compete? Even the simplest booths were more extravagant than mine. They were overstuffed with more products than I had created in my entire career. I was barely a minnow in an extremely large pond.
My tiny booth was all the way in the back and almost didn’t measure more than the length of my body lying flat on the floor. It consisted of three flimsy cardboard walls with my logo imprinted in the center. A few rails for the hangers, two plastic chairs, a table, and a trash can awaited my arrival. Let’s not forget to mention the plastic bag that was already in the trash can—thumbs up to that.
I looked at Lauren and said, “We are fucked.”
“No, babe, your designs are beautiful, and we’re going to rock this,” she reassured me.
I replied with another, “Trust me, we’re fucked.”
I knew that my booth wasn’t going to be impressive enough to catch any of the buyers’ attention. I didn’t have any press, my swimsuits were never featured in any upscale magazines, and no celebrities had ever worn them. Sponsoring the Wizards dance team meant nothing here. My twenty tiny, colorful bikinis hanging from the round metal hangers I’d once believed were dazzling quickly became nothing more than ordinary.
It took me a record-shattering thirty minutes to set up the booth. Learning that other designers had spent days on theirs with the help of a full staff didn’t help my faltering composure. Although I loved my designs, I could instantly tell that the quality of my suits was very poor next to my competition. I was embarrassed. I wanted to hide under the table when others informed me of how many years they had been doing this trade show, and how many appointments they already had.
At the time, I thought the swim show was a complete failure for Dar Be Dar. A total of five buyers stepped foot in my booth, and two orders were placed—for a whopping twenty-four bikinis, one from a store in Miami and the other in Hawaii. At least two stores believed in me, but overall it wasn’t reassuring. I could feel this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slowly slipping through my fingers.
I needed to formulate a plan to make this trade show worthwhile. I was around the best of the best in my industry. What better way to learn than from the people who do it best? I decided to leave my corner to walk around and network while Lauren manned our station. Many people didn’t want to talk to me, which was very humiliating and intimidating. But you will always come across people who, no matter how badass they are, stay humble. And luckily for me, I found the people I needed to set me in the right direction.
Upon my return to DC, I emailed everyone I had met—half of whom didn’t reply, which I expected. Several seasoned swimwear designers finally answered my questions about fabric distributors, manufacturers, and suppliers. The trade show wasn’t a total loss after all. I acquired the most useful knowledge I could have in this business—how to achieve high-quality production—from a place I had originally gone to in search of sales and buyers. Sometimes the real gems are the opportunities that are the most unexpected—the diamonds in the rough.