Five Years in the Making
Five years ago, when this journey first began, I took a few close friends up to my factory in Rochester. One was a photographer, another a videographer, and the third, my then-girlfriend. It felt monumental. We spent the entire day filming, capturing what we thought would be the start of something big. The energy was hopeful, the vision was clear, and we left feeling proud.
Then reality hit.
It was October 2020. Everyone was in masks, understandably so, but it made the footage feel frozen in time. I couldn’t keep reusing it. Worse, the masks made communication almost impossible. Between the layers and the language barrier with some of the team, even simple conversations became awkward. To top it all off, I was hit with a non-compete agreement that barred me from working with that factory for three years. So there I was, holding beautiful footage I couldn’t use of a factory I could no longer work with.
Earlier this year, I tried again. I asked my current content team if they’d be willing to take a two-day trip back to Rochester. The timing just didn’t work. Then, what felt like fate stepped in.
At a networking event in New York, a colleague met someone I didn’t get a chance to speak with. Anticlimactic, I know. But three weeks later, that same person showed up at an event in Connecticut. I walked right up and said, “I didn’t get to talk to you in New York, but this feels like a sign.” Her name was Michelle, and she’s a videographer. A talented one. I checked out her work online and instantly knew: this is the person.
I pitched her the idea of filming at the factory, and she jumped on board. We signed a contract, packed the car, and hit the road.
We were scheduled to film Friday, but I got a call that 40% of the staff, many of whom are Turkish, would be out celebrating a Muslim holiday. So we pivoted and filmed all day Thursday instead.
We had three goals:
Capture an “I Made Your Clothing” video that honors the people behind the seams.
Share why I chose this factory in the first place.
Pick up garments and deliver them to a client on Friday—documenting that moment, too.
We were warned that the sewists probably wouldn’t want to speak on camera. But Michelle wasn’t deterred. She found Alejandra, who has been at the factory for 23 years. After a few minutes of speaking Spanish back and forth, Michelle turned to me and said, “She’s in.” Then three more sewists agreed to talk. In total we interviewed 8 people, ranging from Arnie the CEO to Pablo, a 20 year old shipper and receiver. We created a space where they felt seen. I told them the truth, that without them, there would be no Bards Clothing. No business. No me. I could tell they hadn’t heard that enough from brand owners.
We spoke to the factory owner, Arnie, about what it means to employ such a diverse team, to manufacture in America, to support the families behind the garments. We talked about the state of this country, not red or blue, just the facts: we dismantled our own manufacturing systems, and it’s up to us to rebuild them.
It was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. Not just professionally, period.
I can’t wait to show you what we captured.
