DBC: origins of da bag

DIMEBAGCREW// est. 2012

After flunking out of college on my first try, I was young, stupid, and didn’t know as much as I thought I did. It was a wild time of youthful expression and recklessness. A lot of very low points, sprinkled with very high peaks. There were times I had nothing, and no one. It is in those times that I began to rediscover my love of art and creation. Finding some semblance of acceptance and adventure through recreational partying, but saying everything I was really feeling through the art I began to create. Finding my voice, my aesthetic, and figuring how to deal with what I have been through while also making it in the crazy world. I never had as much money, or support as other youngsters, but I had to keep up. Nobody wants to get left behind.

I landed a job as an embroidery assistant, working with embroidery machines and also with heat-pressing materials. I wanted to learn how to put stuff onto clothing, I had always had a natural interest in fashion and style. I believe it was because growing up, I didn’t have any direct guidance, and learned to use my style to mask where I come from. Like a chameleon with its colors, I would blend in with the normal, average, happy-go-lucky kids, hiding the true dysfunction I hail from. I could sense how fashion represented status on the schoolyard and in television, articulating lifestyles and experiences, and defining social groups. Fashion has always had a function, whether we realize it or not. Subconsciously or not, it is very telling of who you are, where you have been, and how it has effected you.

With an innate respect for fashion, and an undeniable need for extra income, I had an idea. By using scrap resources my work would allow me to take, and ordering garments like t-shirts and sweaters, I began to craft my own pieces. I thought it was pretty original to just start making your own gear, no one I knew really did it. And if I am going to do something, I have this weird thing where if I see somebody else filling a role I kind of just stay out of their lane. Out of respect for them, and motivation to myself to find my own lane. So one summer afternoon, while talking with my beloved friend and at the time, roommate Joey, we talked about the possibility. We realized the name is essential, and the next day while taking a shit, it hit me; DimeBagCrew. It perfectly encapsulated our outlook, and where our heads were at, we were psyched. Despite some mistaken connection to famed guitarist, DimeBag Darrell, it was the brand name I wanted.

As I started to grow-up into my twenties around that time, I had a real resentment for authority, and people who held authority. It was fear, resentment, and mistrust all wrapped up into a ball of pent of angst. I was a rebel against their “systems”, having been abused and betrayed by all those who had ever promised to protect and keep me safe. I wasn’t having it anymore, and lived as such. All of this I projected through my brand, and it fueled DimeBagCrew, and in turn DimeBagCrew fueled it. By using the scraps, and ordered garments, I would hand-cut my logos using a scalpel on a cutting board in my bedroom. I would then use a house-hold iron to apply the logos to the garments. Bada-bing, bada-boom, I had myself a brand, and my lifestyle was inspiring it, while in-turn it was funding my lifestyle.

I was never really good at consistency, consistency was not a constant through-out my life. That etched itself into my character in some ways. I have trouble keeping up with things like social media updates, and keeping in touch with the world. So much of DimeBagCrew’s roots stemmed from word-of-mouth, friends of friends, and party interactions. I did not have a real sense of the creative process or the process of branding and doing seasonal lines. I played it all real fast and loose, but that is how I always lived so it just made sense in the moment, to live it moment by moment.

I have always had a hard time seeing myself as someone who can accomplish or even create what I see other people creating. Like there is this imaginary line, a line that divides the “normies” from the spectaculars and greats. Those who have blessed our most recent decades with the building blocks that have become what we now call, pop-culture. When I create something, more and more it just doesn’t feel or look “real” to me. I feel shades of impostor syndrome, but continue to work to conquer it. DimeBagCrew was my first step on my path to become the creative I am today. I cherish those times, how unaware we all were to just how fleeting those moments were. That youthful time of independent freedom, where the dreadful sense of responsibility hadn’t quite got it’s grasp around us. Nights spent running away from burning bridges, left riddled with lost loves, forgotten friends and abused libidos. Where actions and recourse didn’t occupy the same thoughts, and smiles where left broken in gutters under flickering neon lights. We always managed to pick-up the pieces though.

Now, in 2018, the dimebagcrew focuses more on making music.NW_001(black png)


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