It started with a cat — Lord Nermal to Ripndip fans — on the outside of the brand’s Fairfax Avenue pop-up. It looked like he was flipping off next-door neighbour Supreme.
That wasn’t the case, & the cat went viral. Ripndip now calls that same space at 441 North Fairfax Avenue its permanent flagship after nearly a year in temporary, pop-up status. The longer-term lease follows a wave of wacky marketing events that have ranged from a free float down the river in inflatables for Ripndip fans, the last one an hour outside of Austin brought out about 2,000 people.
(Above: RIPNDIP's flagship store in LA)
The company’s success has been in its humor — sometimes a little crude — amid a sea of seriousness.
“The brand is fun, funny and obviously not to be taken seriously. Every other streetwear brand out there is serious" Still, there’s nothing funny about O’Connor’s story and Ripndip’s rise. The business model, initially held down by a staff of 10, operates off of pre-booking, so nothing is made until orders from buyers are placed, allowing Ripndip to avoid sitting on excess inventory.
(Above: RIPNDIP's Flagship in NY)
O’Connor started out making T-shirts, with “Ripndip” scrawled on his skateboard. He bought his own printer, screenprinting “Ripndip” in his parents’ Florida garage on jackets and sweatshirts he bought from the local Goodwill store. His startup capital was $500 from his father.
“For a long time, it was just ‘Can I pay rent, $1,200 rent. Can I eat and can I get gas?’ I was on a very small budget for a very long time. I never took money out of the company other than just to live,” he said. O’Connor walked downtown Los Angeles’ garment district finding deadstock fabric to add as T-shirt pockets or for the panels on hats, including prints with cats he said he simply found cute.
(Above: RIPNDIP's amazing flagship in Mexico City)
Keith Hufnagel, founder of Huf Worldwide, linked O’Connor up with some manufacturers and taught him basics, such as how to make a tech pack after O’Connor ceremoniously glued strips of printed fabric onto a hat and marched into a Compton manufacturer saying that’s what he wanted made. He was told to get out (that’s the clean version).
Ripndip’s assortment grew to about 30 stock-keeping units of hats and a couple T-shirts. It wasn’t until a T-shirt featuring a simple drawing of Lord Nermal with raised middle finger peeping out of the pocket rolled out for spring 2014, that Ripndip ballooned. About five months after the release, the cat went viral and demand for the T-shirts surged. O’Connor said the shirt remains Ripndip’s top seller.
(Above: RIPNDIP's location in Hong Kong)
“I’m still self-funded because I never took a leap,” he said. “I was fortunate enough to play within my means always and then I became so used to that that it was a true blessing when the whole brand went viral. O’Connor has continued to push the envelope and budget on marketing events — key to the brand’s growth — which, aside from the river floats, have included a lowered, fully operating ice cream truck with Lord Nermal sculpted onto the exterior, a music video with Rico Nasty and free Ripndip tattoos at the store. He thinks a book of Ripndip tattoos, given the number of Snaps he sees, would make another good idea.
