You can’t step foot on campus
without seeing at least one
person clad in Greek life apparel
inspired by pop culture. Hoodies
in the vein of Travis Scott’s
Astroworld
merchandise,
but
with
“Alphaworld”
instead.
Bape-inspired T-shirts that say
“A BATHING AEPI.” Sometimes
Greek Letter Organization (GLO)
apparel is so smoothly designed
that at a glance, you can’t tell it’s
not the original — what I thought
was a Champion reverse weave
hoodie actually said “Delta” on
the left-chest logo.
The
branded
nature
of
Greek life shouldn’t come as
any surprise: The University of
Michigan might be the world’s
most heavily-branded school, and
fittingly, its student body is very
brand-conscious in their choice of
apparel.
Part of me detected a nefarious
capitalist
invasion
on
our
identities pervading campus. I’m
reminded of the fashion world’s
favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic
strip. In it Calvin wishes his
shirt had a logo on it — “It says
to the world, ‘My identity is so
wrapped up in what I buy that I
paid the company to advertise its
products!’”
At first, I thought brand-
inspired GLO apparel was the
fucked-up final form of this
phenomenon. I myself am a Greek
life outsider, and I initially saw
people whose personas were
conflated with companies to the
point that they couldn’t make
the choice between representing
their Greek org or their cultured
(read:
wealthy)
taste
for
expensive brands. There exists a
widely-held belief that Greek life
is full of silver-spoon white people
with no perspective on reality
— something that quickly falls
apart when you meet someone in
Greek life and find out that they’re
real people — but nonetheless,
it exists. Seeing students with a
Greek letter Supreme box logo
imitation feeds into that image.
I say at first because I’ve
checked my ego since then. Really,
I’m no exception to the rule: I too
live for clothing brands. There are
some companies I adore because
they are minimally branded —
Uniqlo comes to mind — but I love
having Nikes on my feet. It’s a sad
day for me if the waistband of my
underwear doesn’t have “Tommy
Hilfiger” wrapped around it.
Not only that, but some of these
designs are actually super clever.
My older brother, a devout Sigma
Pi at Grand Valley State University,
once came home for the summer
with a T-shirt that had the van
from the deluxe edition cover
of Kendrick Lamar’s Good Kid,
M.A.A.D. City photoshopped in
front of their fraternity house.
There I saw the potential in these
pop culture parodies. For every
shitty Supreme bogo knockoff,
there was a brilliant parody. I
sometimes even wish I was in a
fraternity as the apparel chair, so
I could come up with something
clever for my brothers to wear.
Has anybody made a Greek life
hoodie with the Quaker Oats logo
yet?
But the question is: How are
these t-shirts born? Where does
GLO apparel come from? That’s
what this B-Side’s curious editor
asked, smelling a vast conspiracy
underneath all this merchandise
mimicry. Her request for an
interview
with
Underground
Printing
turned
up
short;
according to them, the company
managing
licensing
for
GLO
apparel — more on that later — has
strict guidelines and “Generally
speaking, they do not allow
(those) imitations and parodies.”
But that couldn’t be the end of it,
could it?
The case went cold, and I was
prepared to do a deep-dive on
Greek imitations based on my
own speculation and suspicion.
Frantically I texted my older
brother, begging him to tell me
where the hell those clothes
came from. Then a friend of a
friend of a friend led us to Greek
Dressing. At last, we found it: An
apparel company that seemed
to specialize in just the kind
of merchandise on which I’m
writing
about
now.
Tuesday
afternoon, I caught up with the
brains behind the operation.
LSA senior Everest Guerra
laid the groundwork for Greek
Dressing in the early part of
his college career. “Freshman,
sophomore year, I noticed my
fraternity was making a lot of
apparel,” Guerra said. “Like a lot a
lot of apparel. Like $30,000 a year
in apparel.”
That may sound like a stretch,
but some napkin mathematics told
me that number was very realistic.
For bigger fraternities, with 150
or more brothers each dropping
$200 or more on clothing over
a year, that $30,000 number is
right in sight. Now multiply that
$200 figure times 4,200 students
involved
in
Greek
life.
The
University of Michigan alone has
a multi-hundred-thousand-dollar
per year Greek apparel industry.
That’s a lot of design work, a lot
of transactions, a lot of logistics.
That’s where companies like
Greek Dressing come in.
Guerra saw those complications
in his own fraternity’s apparel
production. “The designs weren’t
that cool … the process for
ordering was really hard … there
just wasn’t a really good system for
it. And I kinda saw an opportunity
to improve on the system we had.”
Greek
Dressing
was
born
to solve those problems. The
process is simple: Fraternities
and sororities bring their ideas
for apparel to their campus
representative.
An
in-house
design team renders a proof,
and through an online feedback
platform, the campus reps go back
and forth with their client until a
final design is produced. A private
web store is constructed for the
client where their members can
purchase the clothes themselves.
Then the garments are produced
(usually by a local printer in
Detroit) and fulfilled by Greek
Dressing.
When I first read the local
printer’s response to my editor’s
interview request saying that
Greek apparel imitating popular
brands were not allowed, an image
was conjured in my mind of GLOs
working to produce clothing in
the dark so that their rip-offs
could survive in the light. But as it
turns out, a sophisticated system
underlies their production.
A quick peek at the Greek
Dressing lookbook shows that pop
culture references play a big part
in their design philosophy. Guerra
explained that they incorporate
those
references
into
their
designs to set them apart from
other companies doing a similar
thing (as it turns out, there are
many). Some orgs know exactly
what they want, but others go
through a sometimes lengthy
design process.
“One of our clients is going to
Toronto for a formal, and they just
asked us to come up with a couple
different designs,” Guerra said. “I
think we’re on like design eight
now. We got to eight, we selected
one, which is really awesome.
But for us it was like, OK, what’s
important to Toronto? Drake is
obviously a staple of Toronto,
the Toronto Raptors are a pretty
staple team, the Leafs, or anything
like that. So we’ll think of pop
culture references and try to build
those into a lot of our garments.”
On the legal side, Guerra
mentioned the same licensing
company that the local printer did:
Affinity Licensing, the governing
body of all GLO trademarks. To
produce Greek apparel, first a
vendor needs to get licensed with
Affinity, but it’s not a blanket
license. A separate license is
needed
for
each
individual
organization. It can be difficult
for a small company. There are
up-front costs associated with
obtaining a single license. Every
organization then has its own
guidelines for what designs can
be used. And of course, those
organizations collect royalties on
every design with their letters on
it.
Whenever Guerra’s team makes
a design, it goes through Affinity,
who give it an approval or denial.
This makes it a little easier on
companies like Greek Dressing
when it comes to the use of pop
culture and existing brands. It’s a
sort of legal grey area. I imagine
their brand-based designs fall
under fair use as a parody, or
something similar. Whatever the
technicalities are, the licensing
company will give the thumbs up
or thumbs down on each design.
“We made a cool Chance the
Rapper tee and they were totally
fine with it,” Guerra said. “But
then we made an Off-White tee,
and they were like, ‘No, you can’t
use that brand.’” As his artists have
become more and more familiar
with what is and isn’t allowed,
they’ve been able to anticipate
when a design won’t get approved
so they can advise clients to pick
something different.
Designing apparel based on
what’s trending is a tricky game
because of how quickly things go
in and out of fashion. “A Drake
reference,
that
might
work
last month because Drake just
dropped a new song, (but) it’s not
gonna work in six months because
that pop culture reference is
played out, there’s going to be a
million people who’ve already
done it,” Guerra said. “We did an
Astroworld one, and then we saw
similar stuff coming out around
the same time, so it’s hard to
know sometimes who was first,”
he added.
Interestingly,
Guerra
noted
patterns among different orgs for
what kind of references they like to
use. “I’ve done enough University
of Michigan organizations that I
kind of know this organization is
gonna be into more of the hip-hop
pop culture references, this ones
gonna be more into sports pop
culture references, and this one
just wants some crazy artwork,
they don’t want any pop culture
references,” he explained.
The
conversation
proved
eye-opening: The underbelly of
brand-based Greek life apparel
was no conspiracy after all. Like
all things Greek life, everything
is written, set in stone under well-
documented procedure. As for the
designs themselves, they are the
medium for a creative race, a rush
among fraternities and sororities
to come up with the trendiest,
coolest and cleverest design.
Services like Greek Dressing have
found a comfortable place in that
race.
Is there a conversation to be
had about “the American way to
express individuality”? Maybe,
maybe. But Greek life apparel is
not necessarily the “final form” of
that thinking like I once imagined
it. It’s another avenue upon which
“the American way” manifests
itself, but it’s a cool one, if I say
so myself. Greek life has turned
pop culture references into a
new, distinctly American form of
creativity.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, March 28, 2019 — 5B
Pop culture fetches a high
price for Greek life merch
DYLAN YONO
Daily Arts Writer
ALEC COHEN / DAILY
B-SIDE SECONDARY
The fashion knockoff industry
has been in business for possibly
as long as the fashion industry
itself. It is common knowledge
that products created by high-
end designers like Gucci and
Chanel are the dreams of many,
only to be afforded by few.
Thereby, the fashion knockoff
industry has now become the
one-stop solution for the masses.
I say “industry” because the
magnitude of businesses working
in the field of making copycat
products — namely bags, belts and
even apparel — is astonishing, to
say the least.
Furthermore, this industry is
now morphing into an economy
that shows no signs of slowing
down, especially as the desire for
exclusive products is becoming
increasingly ubiquitous thanks
to social media and the rise
of
influencers.
The
famed
interlocking
Gucci
belt
has
become adorned by so many
Instagram stars that it no longer
stands out against Yeezys and
other
trademark
streetwear
goods, which now dominate the
social sphere.
Some
argue
the
copycat
economy is founded on the basis
of a crime: theft of design. This
is true to a certain extent. Many
believe that it, like any business,
is simply fulfilling an existing
gap in the market, matching
the supply to the great demand
and capitalizing on a lucrative
business opportunity. Business
and morals have often conflicted
with one another, and this is no
exception. Time and time again,
critics have cried out against the
rather unknown masterminds
pulling the strings of the knockoff
industry, and lawsuits have been
filed, but to no avail. The fact of
the matter is that this economy
operates more like a complex web
spread across the world, far too
flawless in their working to be
rooted out.
While
exclusive
brands
charging thousands of dollars
rightfully
call
those
in
the
business of copying wrong, Coco
Chanel
herself
very
frankly
admitted that knockoffs were
simply the “ransom of success.”
The economic impact is similar
to a pendulum — it could
swing either way. Often, when
knockoffs are easily available,
genuine customers are naturally
less willing to shell out large
sums of money when they find
others enjoying the same sense
of exclusiveness at a much lower
cost. This possibly leads to lower
brand loyalty, since loyalty is a
subjective aspect, closely related
to the availability of alternatives.
However, not all designs can be
replicated, and definitely not all
imitations are of similar quality to
the original. There might be a few
extremely well-made knockoffs
that are almost impossible to
distinguish from the genuine
product, unless you were to
examine its every intricacy: from
the lining, to the material, to the
type of stitch used. Moreover,
some designs are products of
the
brand
monopolizing
on
its superior finish, production
technique and detail-oriented
work, making them simply too
difficult to copy. For example,
replicas of the Balenciaga city
bag often struggle to find similar
high-quality leather quality with
the right amount of shine.
What’s even more important
than
simply
discussing
the
nuances of replication is the
realization
that
the
fashion
knockoff industry is not limited to
simply making knockoffs. It also
includes some very popular and
commonplace brands, all lumped
under the category of fast fashion.
While you can guess what these
brands are, I am referring to
common favourites, like Zara and
H&M, who are indeed infamous
for churning out designs similar
to those seen on the runway in
shockingly little time.
These brands work on the basis
of microseasons and are able to
rehaul their entire lines to match
Fashion Week designs in as much
or even less time it takes for the
exclusive fashion houses to bring
their collections from the ramp
to their window displays. These
brands are well-oiled machines
with a clear system in place. The
inclusion of these large, global
companies
into
the
copycat
economy exponentially increases
the size of the industry and not
only normalizes a part of it, but
even legalizes it. However, these
multinational corporations are
not without their own set of
troubles.
The rise of fast fashion in
the past decade has completely
transformed how this age-old
system
works.
Demand
has
skyrocketed
because
many
consumers have come to rely on
clothing from these cheap and
easy brands, as they unknowingly
become involved in this unspoken
side of the knockoff industry.
In today’s age, the knockoff
industry
continues
to
grow
with the introduction of online
shopping
and
the
fact
that
replication isn’t simply limited
to high-end designers anymore.
Companies based in China, like
SheIn, are known for ripping
off designs from more common
stores and selling them for dirt-
cheap. They seem too be to
good to be true, and they often
are, thanks to their mediocre
quality material and large-scale
production.
What is even more amusing
about this business of knockoffs
is that it’s not a one way street.
Often times, large companies,
the likes of which include Old
Navy and Anthropologie, have
been accused of profiteering by
copying the work of individual
designers.
This
stream
of
interaction is received more with
anger, because the masses seem
to feel wronged in knowing that
companies to which they shell
out their own hard-earned money
are profiting by stealing another
artist’s work. The last piece of
this puzzle is the legal aspect: I
was surprised to find that much
of the replication that occurs is
legal, since small-scale designers
often do not trademark their
graphics or images. Furthermore,
there have even been cases of
designer fashion houses copying
work, including Saint Laurent,
Gucci and Off-White just to name
a few. This just goes to show that
this industry is not restricted
by the type of product, or the
imminence of the brand involved,
but functions only according to
one thing — the bottom line.
ISTOCK
The money is in the fake:
Profitability of knockoffs
PRIYDARSHINI GOUTHI
Daily Arts Writer
B-SIDE: STYLE
Every organization then has its
own guidelines for what designs
can be used. And of course, those
organizations collect royalties on every
design with their letters on it.
It’s a sad day
for me if the
waistband of my
underwear doesn’t
have “Tommy
Hilfiger” wrapped
around it.