So you wanna make money? Guess you ain't gonna do it flipping houses anymore, are ya? Nope, that's down the crapper, and so is Amway (buy my toilet paper and dish detergent from a mail-order catalog? Screw that!). In fact, all the greatest American shortcuts to instant wealth and gratification are fading away. It used to be all you needed was an idea you heard from someone else and a total lack of scruples to make it big in America. Now, we're stuck with earning a living.
Or are we?
While visiting Las Vegas, I saw a whole bunch of stores in the ritzier casinos that, at first glance, looked like half-empty women's apparel stores, but were in fact gold mines. These places would have a simple name - the guy or woman that's designing the stuff in the store before it's shipped in from Malaysia - but the accessories inside would be $200-$1000 and up. Can you imagine a $400 purse? Believe it buster - this is America! We can blow money on anything!
And so, seeing these overpriced Fashion Bugs with security guards got me to thinking: how hard would it be for me to get in on his sweet sweet fashion action? Not hard, I imagine - I just need a plan. And, here's that plan.
Step 1: Get a name
George Kovats is a great name - for a butcher shop. Let's face it, you'd trust me handing you a pork loin or maybe a vodka tonic, but not a woman's bustier. Frankly, that'd be creepy. No, I need something much more... creative? Fancy? Light in the loafers? You know what I mean.
Enter Don Chingo. It sounds more "fashionable", like someone who could get away with wearing a boa and Paris Hilton bug-glasses (you know, the ones that cover half a woman's face?).
Don Chingo could also be a dock worker who's only mission in life right now is to find me in person and kick my ass for associating him with a fashion queer. That's the mystery of Don Chingo. You just don't know about him - is he making bold statements about woman's apparel fashion, or doing a whois lookup on my domain to meet me over a can of whoopass?
Naturally, I'm hoping it's that first case. Don the dock worker, no hard feelings.
Step 2: Design something
I don't know anythingabout fashion bags or clothing, but this doesn't appear to be a problem. After looking at several "fashion bags" from different designers, it seems the one reoccurring theme is a brown bag with some oddball light-pattern that has the initials of the designer in it.
Having your initials on your apparel and accessories is important, apparently. People don't pay hundreds of dollars for a handbag just for it's quality (apparently it has nothing to do with it's quality at all). People pay hundreds of dollars for a handbag just so other people know that they bought their handbag for hundreds of dollars.
So following the template for a fashion handbag, get your ideas on paper and send them to an Asian country of your choosing for mass production, and in 4-6 weeks, you'll be ready to start selling. This brings us to the final step...
Step 3: Advertising
Every time I'm in a waiting room, I start reading the magazines, which are usually about 90% ads. A lot of them end up having some fashion ads. You've seen them - black and white picture of a gaunt woman holding her gaunt boyfriend, caressing the watch on his hand, and the name of some guy at the bottom of the ad. For guys, this is generally a foreign concept: what does the product do, what are the products specs, how much is it, where can I get it... all of this is replaced with two emaciated twenty-somethings in dire need of haircuts.
But, that's fashion. And so, with that idea in mind, my first ad is somewhat of a compromise,
OK, this is a lower-end fashion ad. You can tell because it makes too much sense. First, it has a scene that you can piece together in your head, it shows what product is for sale, and it even has a price. This is far too much for the higher end fashion "stuff". However, if you're trying to cut out an easier stake in the midrange fashion market, hey, maybe this ad has a shot.
Oh, of course, I give the handbag a name like "perennial handbag". If you call it just a "handbag", people would think, "What kind of a schmuck do you take me for? I'm not paying $340 for a handbag!" The extra perennial makes the handbag sound more... special. It's that extra edge that tells the buyer, "you're getting a deal here - this is perennial, like poppies."
Now, if you want to go the more traditional approach for advertising, you're gonna need a celebrity.
No, I didn't book Nicole Kidman for a photo shoot. Clearly, I used my bootleg copy of Photoshop to superimpose a Don Chingo original on to Kidman's character in "The Invasion." Seems risky, but the logic here is your profits will outweigh the court costs of fending off Ms. Kidman's suit for rights infringement case.
The normal shopper would look at this picture and think, "she's kind of depressed looking. Why would I want to buy a bag if it'll make me depressed?" Of course, this isn't a savvy interpretation. Besides, the normal shopper will skip magazines and foolishly buy a $10 handbag at Target, one without Don Chingo initials. It's their loss.
The fashion-conscious crowd will recognize the icon Nicole Kidman is, and follow her fashion choices like lemmings running over a cliff. Fashion follows fame; if Angolina Jolie started wearing M.C. Hammer parachute pants, believe me, it'd show up on European runways not too long afterward. Of course, 12 months later, it'll show up in T.J. Maxx for $12 a pair.
Step 4: Set up shop and get rich
Final step is to get retail space in a ritzy location, possibly along the Las Vegas strip, hire a few hobos to play security guards, and stock your brightly lit store with 20 of your latest purses. Chances are, you'll probably only need to sell 4 to pay for that months rent - the rest is gravy (handbags cost, what, 39 cents to make in Indonesia?).
Of course, this process isn't seamless. You probably need to start talking about yourself in third person, move to a large city, and start drinking really odd drinks. But, it all seems to be a small price to pay for the lavish lifestyle of a "fashionista". Eventually, you'll be mobbed my paparazzi, drinking martinis from decorative alabaster hamster skulls, slapping the bourgeois, and raking in the money.
Sound plausible? Well, if I see your ad next time I'm flipping through an Entertainment Weekly at the doctor's office, we'll know the answer.