Five Days Later: Why We Keep Showing Up

It’s been five-ish days since Fall Fest, and I finally have a minute to sit back and process what actually happened.

I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted something genuinely positive. There’s been a reason for that. Sometimes life gets messy. Sometimes gossip spreads like wildfire. Sometimes people make assumptions about things they know absolutely nothing about.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Someone finally listened to Deez Mats’ side of the story, and that meant something to me. I’ve always believed that eventually, the truth has a way of making its way through the noise. Then we decided to walk away.

So instead of dwelling on that, I want to talk about what happened next.

We showed up.

Fall Fest ended up being more than just another market.

Five days later, we’ve already fulfilled multiple custom orders that came directly out of the event. We made some great connections. We met people we probably wouldn’t have crossed paths with otherwise. We’ve had conversations that have turned into potential opportunities, and we’ve reached out to a couple of those opportunities that could potentially take Deez Mats into some really interesting places.

That’s what I wanted this business to be.

Not just a table.

Not just a bunch of shirts.

A place where you can show up, make something, drink a water, talk to people, and just vibe.

And sometimes it’s as simple as selling a shirt or a bottle of water.

Sometimes it’s a custom order.

And sometimes it’s just a conversation that sticks with you.

Crap. I Forgot the Lights.

Fall Fest was exactly what you’d expect when you’re running a small business yourself.

“Crap, I forgot the lights.”

“Crap, I forgot to order business cards.”

“Where did the white HTV go?”

“Where did I put my keys?”

And somehow, it worked out, even if we had a storm and Sunday was canceled.

That’s part of building something from scratch.

There isn’t a giant staff behind me making sure everything gets done. There isn’t a warehouse. There isn’t a marketing department. There isn’t someone reminding me where I put the supplies.

It’s just me.

I work a full-time job.

I show up for my son.

And somehow, I started Deez Mats and have managed to keep it alive for four months.

More importantly, we’re finally starting to see things work.

The Dad in the Bjorn

There was one moment at Fall Fest that had absolutely nothing to do with selling anything.

A father walked past the tent with his one-year-old son strapped to his chest in a Bjorn.

Something about it immediately caught me.

I looked over while standing at the heat press and said something along the lines of, “There’s no better feeling.”

I’d never met this guy before.

He stopped for a second and said, “Yeah. And the hardest and most rewarding.”

We started talking.

His son was just starting to walk, and it brought me right back to when my son was that age.

I don’t know if I was missing my son that night.

Maybe I was.

Maybe I just needed that conversation.

But after talking with this complete stranger about being a father, I walked away feeling a little more grounded.

Being a father can be a pretty thankless job sometimes.

You work.

You provide.

You clean.

You show up.

You take care of your kid (well most of us)

You try to keep everything moving.

And sometimes nobody really stops to acknowledge how much you’re doing.

I’m not saying fathers have it harder than mothers. I can’t speak for everyone. I can only speak from my own experience.

For me, being a father didn’t come easy.

I’ve faced a lot of adversity along the way. ALOT.

But I take tremendous pride in the father I’ve become.

So yeah, seeing another dad out there carrying his son around, doing the work, showing up for his kid, hits me like a brick shit house.

Maybe because I remember doing the same thing.

Maybe because I miss when my son was one.

Or maybe because sometimes you just need to tell another father, “You’re doing a good job.”

He thanked me for the conversation.

And honestly, I think I needed it just as much as he did.

That’s one of the reasons I do this.

Not just to make shirts.

Not just to sell mats.

Not just to build a business.

It’s about connecting with people.

Even if it’s only for five minutes.

And Then There Were the Hooligans

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Deez Mats event without a little chaos.

We had some hooligans running through the tent and the bushes.

A few kids got called rude.

They deserved it.

And then there are the people who walk up to the tent asking for the one thing you don’t have.

As usual.

“Do you have this?”

No.

“Do you have that?”

Also no.

That’s actually how a lot of our custom work starts.

The Gabagool Is Here

The East Haven Gabagool designs are officially in.

And while we were at Fall Fest, we started working on concepts for Hamden, Meriden, and Wallingford.

We also picked up a custom order for PSE.

That’s the fun part for me.

I like creating.

I like designing.

I like taking an idea that exists only in someone’s head and turning it into something they can actually wear, put on their door, or give to someone else.

Some people are going to understand that.

Some people aren’t.

That’s okay.

While some people may want to see the world burn or be jealous of what someone else is capable of building from scratch, I’m going to keep creating.

Because that’s what I do.

I’m going to keep showing up for my son.

And I’m going to keep building Deez Mats.

Five Days Later

Five days later, the biggest thing I’m taking away from Fall Fest isn’t the sales.

It’s the momentum.

We fulfilled multiple orders from people we met there.

We opened conversations with some genuinely exciting opportunities.

We created new designs.

We saw some familiar faces.

And we got to be part of the community for the weekend.

There was great music. There was a Fleetwood Mac cover. We tried Amelia’s Market and finally got to see what all the hype was about. I had the turkey BLT, no onions, and I’ll admit it lived up to the hype.

We sold water.

We sold shirts.

And we kept moving.

It just be like that sometimes.

It’s not always glamorous.

Sometimes it’s forgetting the lights and looking everywhere for white HTV.

Sometimes it’s standing in a tent wondering why everyone wants the one size you don’t have.

Sometimes it’s meeting a stranger and having a conversation about fatherhood that stays with you for days.

And sometimes you look around five days later and realize:

Holy shit. This thing is actually starting to work.

Stay Classy East Haven.