Like Curran, most of Threadless's employees come with no obvious qualifications for their jobs. The oldest staff member is 33, and many are under 25. The employees do, however, arrive with a deep and abiding love of Threadless, having joined the community long before they entered the work force. Joe Van Wetering, a 21-year-old illustrator who works in the production department, was a frequent visitor to Threadless's offices as a teenager before taking a job in the warehouse in 2006. Ross Zietz had won seven competitions while studying art at Louisiana State University before he took a job as the company's janitor in 2004. He has since been promoted to art director, charged with helping the winning designers get their entries ready for printing. In fact, 75 percent of the company's 50 employees were community members before they were hired.
Nickell makes hiring decisions based primarily on one metric: trust. "It's pretty much the only thing we talk about when we interview," he says. The goal is to find people who can work independently. "It takes a while for people to get adjusted to this place," he says, adding that those who do not display an ability to figure things out on their own are quickly dispatched. (The first and only person over the age of 40 to work at Threadless, the CFO, left after only 60 days on the job in early 2007.)
Trustworthiness is especially important at Threadless because the company's most important asset -- its vast online community -- is managed collectively. Threadless employs no moderators, and no single person or group is charged with keeping the community happy. Nor, technologically speaking, is the social network itself especially advanced. It lacks many of the features found on MySpace or Facebook. There are no virtual friends, no messaging features, and no status messages. Users' profiles are made up of their blog postings and their submissions.
But what Threadless lacks in flashy features, it makes up for in steadfast dedication to staying close to its customers. Both Nickell and Kalmikoff spend much of their time cruising Threadless.com -- posting comments on blogs, inspecting designs, and tweaking the website. They publish their instant-message addresses and regularly query the public about changes to design or contest policies. "If someone changes something on Facebook, there's no expectation that some random 14-year-old from the middle of Idaho is going to be able to get in touch with Mark Zuckerberg," Kalmikoff says. "On Threadless, if people see something they don't like and want to talk to Jake, they get Jake."
Employees have long served as the models for the company's shirts; this puts community members on a first-name basis with them. "Ross makes one hot Dylan," reads a recent comment from one of Zietz's admirers in response to a Bob Dylan-inspired pose he struck. (Users are also invited to upload photos of themselves wearing Threadless shirts. For each photo submitted, the company doles out a credit worth $1.50.) Meanwhile, each employee is encouraged to talk regularly with users. For instance, when Curran is planning on cleaning out the warehouse, he alerts the customers on his Threadless blog. The posts typically generate dozens of requests. "Keep an eye out for the XL Corporate Zombie," reads one from a customer eager to score a lost copy of a sold-out design.
In 2005, Nickell got a call from a buyer at the retailer Urban Outfitters (NASDAQ:URBN) about carrying Threadless's shirts in the company's 150 stores. Around the same time, Target (NYSE:TGT) sent him a several-hundred-page contract for a "test" involving tens of thousands of shirts in a handful of stores and on Target.com. Nickell reluctantly declined both offers, fearing a backlash from a community that often uses "Urban Outfitters" as a synonym for uncool. "We would do a deal with Target or Urban Outfitters," Nickell insists. "The only stipulation we need is to have some kind of presence in the store where people are able to easily learn about where the designs come from. You go to Target or Urban, and it's just shirts on a wall. You have no idea where they came from or who designed them," he says. He would like to see a computer kiosk that allows shoppers to score designs and read about artists, but when he pitched the concept to Urban Outfitters -- which approached Threadless again in 2007 -- the clothing giant demurred. "As long as the story isn't lost, we're OK," he says. Urban Outfitters and Target declined to comment, citing company policy.
Still, Nickell is not averse to pushing his model in new directions. In late 2006, he sold a minority stake to Insight Venture Partners for an undisclosed amount. He informed the community with a release titled "Holy Crap, Big News!" With Insight's cash and expertise, Nickell began work on a Threadless retail store and started looking into the possibility of opening a European warehouse to speed international shipments. He also broke with DeHart, who had lost interest in expanding Threadless and wanted to start something new. (DeHart declined to comment for this story. He maintains his ownership stake in Threadless and a board seat but no longer works at the company.)
Last September, Threadless opened a two-story store in Chicago's Lakeview neighborhood. Nickell spared no expense in designing the space, which is appointed with zinc panels, hardwood accents, and 20 flat-screen television monitors. But the most striking thing about the store is how few products are on sale. The upper floor is dedicated exclusively to art, and 20 or so T-shirt designs are sold on the lower level. This layout makes the space feel worlds away from American Apparel (AMEX:APP) stores, which are usually crammed floor to ceiling with all things cotton. Nickell imagined the store as a marketing channel -- a physical embodiment of Threadless.com that would help attract attention to the website, give artists a chance to see their work sold in a real-life setting, and serve as a venue for events such as concerts and art exhibits. He figured it would lose money.
