Daymond John is an unlikely tenant for the 66th floor of the Empire State Building.
In 1992, as a teenager in Hollis, Queens, John sold home-sewn, tie-top hats and dreamed of starting an apparel brand. So he drew up a logo, expanded into T-shirts and called his brand Fubu (“For Us, By Us”)—his response to what he saw as outsider corporations selling clothes to black kids they otherwise wanted nothing to do with. When 27 banks turned him down for financing, John and his mother mortgaged their house for $100,000 in startup capital. And though he did not possess a marketing degree, John made a shrewd and fateful move: He gave some Fubu gear to rapper LL Cool J (who’d grown up in Hollis, too) and asked him to wear it. L did—in concert, no less. Practically overnight, Fubu was the word on the street. After Samsung stepped forward as an investor in 1995, Fubu went global. To date, the brand has done $6 billion in sales.
The Fubu brand has receded a bit from the spotlight in recent years, but John, 42, is back out in front. Now an investor and consultant, John is a venture capital “shark” on the ABC reality show Shark Tank, which began its second season on March 25. The show represents a turning of the tables for John, who’s now in the position to offer startup entrepreneurs the kind of financing that the banks refused to give him 20 years ago.
Adweek staff writer Robert Klara took the ear-popping elevator ride to John’s office to talk about the clothing business, building brands and how marketing has changed since the early ’90s.
Adweek: Fubu really took off around 1994. That was 17 years ago. For a brand creator starting out today, is life easier or harder than it was for you?
Daymond John: That’s the first time I’ve been asked that question. In my area of expertise, if it was just clothing, it would be much harder.
Well, when Fubu came around, it had a new angle. It was a new age—like a black renaissance in our time. Now, it’s been done already. TV back then had six or seven channels. Now there are 500. Marketing is so segmented [today] that it’s hard to make a broad stroke.
These days, you consult to brands, and you put a high premium on a brand getting a celebrity endorser. Why’s that such a big thing for you?
I’m a firm believer in utilizing celebrities because they tap into people on an emotional basis. One of the artists I work with is Pitbull [rapper Armando Christian Pérez]. Now, someone might listen to a Pitbull song 50 times a day, and you’re talking about millions of people doing that. That’s way more effective than spending $1 million on a banner someplace.
Some brands might think twice before hitching their wagon to a hip-hop artist.
The biggest fear brands have is: “Is this artist going to go shoot somebody? What happens to my brand then?” But we live in a real world, and with social media, you can’t hide things anymore. You just have to deal with that, and there are good ways to deal with it, too. Because if you really look at it, consumers resonate more when people have real issues in their lives—à la Charlie Sheen. So the best thing in the world is for a star to have some kind of reality check.
It’s interesting that you say that. Most brands run screaming from a celebrity when the celebrity self-destructs—and plenty of them have.
I don’t see it like that. You know why? I’m sitting in this room because a person like LL Cool J wore my product. When you get behind a celebrity, he’ll get behind you. And he did the biggest advertising coup in history when he put Fubu in Gap commercials.