mercredi 1 avril 2009

A $100,000 Education for Newbie Inventors

A $100,000 Education for Newbie Inventors
Property developers turned inventors Marianne and Rick Kay learned the hard way about turning their nifty prototype into a viable business.



Entrepreneurs: Marianne Kay, 51, and Rick Kay, 44
Background: Sports enthusiasts and parents of three athletic kids, Kay and Rick worked together in real estate development for 16 years before launching Cleatskins.
The Company: Kay and her husband, Rick, launched Cleatskins in 2005, using their real estate ventures to fund the startup. In 2008, the business released its first product, Cleatskins Sole, a rubber outsole designed to cover cleats, allowing athletes to wear them off the field without damaging the cleats themselves or the surface beneath them. The company has since expanded its line to five different athletic shoe "skins."
Sales: Estimated $1.5 million in 2009
Her Story: One day in late 2004 I banished Rick to the front porch to change out the cleats on our eldest son's dirty baseball shoes. Even though he'd done this countless times before, a light bulb went on. Wouldn't it be great, Rick thought, if athletes had something that slipped easily over cleats to protect their footwear and give them traction while moving to and from games? It could save time, money, messes, and horrible cleats-on-concrete spills.
The easy part was coming up with a great idea. The hard part was turning it into a real business. First, we looked to see if we could find anything similar on the market. Having found nothing, we amassed a small library of "how-to" books covering inventions and patents. We commandeered the kitchen table for several months. For our homemade designs, we used swim caps, glue, lycra, pieces of sandals—anything we could find. Next came sketches and a list of requirements, such as an impermeable layer. We found a patent attorney through recommendations and a product designer/developer through the Internet. We agreed to the designer/developer's fee of $4,000 for 40 hours of work. We thought that would buy us the entire project. We quickly learned it bought us just a fraction of what we needed.
After four months of drawings, our designer/developer returned from overseas, carrying our prototype in a shoebox. Excited, we discussed factory minimums, commissions, and delivery charges. Just before opening the box, he mentioned that the factory had taken the liberty of making a few minor changes. He showed us a pair of very cheap, poorly made sandals that looked nothing like our sketches and suspiciously like sandals that factory might have already been producing for next to nothing. Our homemade swim-cap/sandal-sole/lycra things from our kitchen table looked better. That was lesson No. 1: Your vision can only be upheld if it is made clear to everyone. We should have had sign-offs every step of the way, to avoid surprises.
Designer After Designer
We hired a new designer/developer with impressive scientific knowledge. He was highly precise and methodical, and we thought we had our man. Unfortunately, after three months, we couldn't seem to move beyond the science behind the material into the actual design of a product. Next, we worked with a husband-wife team that was eager, earnest, and talented. Their drawings were beautiful, with sketches we wanted to frame. The prototypes, however, turned out to be crude and ill-fitting, not to mention quite costly. For instance, one of the factories they wanted to use charged $16,000 per mold—later we realized we could get more accurate molds for $3,000. It wasn't the couple's fault; it was ours for having hired them—they were not in the athletic footwear business. The factories they used either required us to pay for retooling their equipment to accommodate our needs, or charged what they thought they could. Lesson No. 2: Your team should consist of individuals experienced in precisely what you need them to do.
At the same time, we were distracted. My husband, Rick, had been experiencing severe reactions to a medication he had been taking for young-onset Parkinson's and was finally doing better. (He had been diagnosed with the disease before he had the light-bulb moment for the invention.) Looking back, I realize we had focused mainly on our family while devoting only limited time and resources to building a prototype, much less a company. We had let months pass while moving from one designer to the next, sometimes four to five months at a time.
We had not yet fully committed to the process, and it showed. That was lesson No. 3: Commit fully or not at all.
Fish or Cut Bait
It was now the summer of 2007. During the course of the previous two and a half years, we had spent approximately $100,000 trying to develop Cleatskins, with little to show for it. Our real estate development projects had carried us through the previous 10 years, but our most ambitious project was completed but not yet sold. The real estate market was now in a tailspin, along with all other markets.
We were at a crossroads. If we wanted to pursue our dream of making Cleatskins a reality, we needed to make the commitment, at a time in our lives when we'd be using our reserve to do it.
We put our house on the market and cut the sales price on our latest construction project. We decided to take the risk and concentrate our finances and time on Cleatskins.
I called anyone I thought might be able to recommend an athletic footwear expert. One friend suggested Chris Walsh, one of the premier production, sourcing, and operations executives within the industry. Walsh looked at our prototype in August 2007 and was enthusiastic about it. He brought in Tom Carmody, former general manager of Reebok North America and former head of marketing at Nike (NKE). Erik Purdom, former director for design at LA Gear, also came onboard and brought along Bob Byrne and Jimmy Tsen, stellar design/development and production executives.
We liquidated all of our available assets and maximized the loan against our construction project in order to afford the efforts.
Eureka! Finally
Cleatskins kicked into high gear. Purdom developed drawings and had a prototype in hand within several months. As he immediately set about educating us on the intricacies of athletic footwear, I saw the folly of having previously wasted so much time with professionals outside the industry. From the start, we had wanted a skin that would quickly and easily slip on and off cleats and have a thick and durable outsole, yet be pliable and light. In addition, we wanted it to be attractive, affordable, and capable of sporting team colors. Finally, we had it.
Next, we focused on branding and public relations, since we were set to make our debut at the World Shoe Assn. Show, one of the largest gatherings of footwear buyers and sellers worldwide, in February 2008. We wanted the look, feel, and packaging to convey the essence of the product and the company behind it. Having learned the hard way about people who didn't have the experience we needed, we hired top-notch branding and public relations teams. Cleatskins Sole, our initial product line, was picked up by a dozen international distributors and a number of domestic retailers, including Dick's Sporting Goods (DKS) and Olympian Sports. In addition, several large e-commerce vendors added Cleatskins Sole to their stables, such as Shoebuy.com—all before our product was actually available.
In the summer of 2008, we received the first delivery of Cleatskins Sole from China, which we immediately took to the athletic fields in order to test the response of young athletes. This not only enabled us to gauge which colors would sell best; it also allowed what has proven to be invaluable dialogue with our athletes. We're using tournaments, leagues, and sporting news Web sites to continue that conversation, and we have already used athlete input to design product lines in the pipeline. In January, we launched Cleatskins Golf at the PGA Merchandise Show, to an amazing response.
Sometimes opportunity presents itself and you have no choice but to jump. If not, you'll forever regret having missed the boat. Then, once you're on the boat, the right crew makes all the difference in the world. That brings me to lesson No. 4: The right team is everything.
—edited by Stacy Perman

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