Paul Stephenson gives his account of Printwear & Promotion 2008
6.15a.m., and I’m woken by a loud purring — it’s my faithful Persian cat, Fifi La Flange, and she’s hungry. Just as well she’s given me the nudge, it’s Monday morning and I’m off to the Printwear & Promotion Exhibition, so better haul my silky PJ’s out of bed and make a start. Staring out the window and starting to focus, I wonder about this year’s industry offering…will there be a decent turnout, what will all the old faces have to say, and will the M42 resemble Morrison’s car park? Plumped up, tautened and with a dewy glow I bid Fifi farewell, and doing that which seems so unnatural, I head for Birmingham.
On arrival I was reminded of how proud I am of the garment decorating posse — you can spot our jeans and T-shirts a mile off, unlike the attendants of the Door Knob Show and U Bend Expo who were also boarding the shuttle bus. I’m not sure which would go first in Stephenson’s Britain, the matching tie and handkerchief combo or those bloody suitcases on wheels — how I watched and prayed that the smart Apprentice contestant lookalikes would lose a wheel on their bag and career into an NEC flower bed, but obviously there is no God, and they made it safely in. In my defence I had a Dalai Lama moment and tried to talk to the man next to me on the bus about sofits, fascias and extrusions…. that’s got to mean I come back as a higher being.
The usual re-enactment of Holiday on the Buses then ensued as we passed Hall 4 for the third time — saying ‘I hate you Butler’ as I alighted proved to be a mistake however as I got the same driver on the return journey, who threatened to ‘drop me off’ in no uncertain terms. Off to a good start then, in we go and time to register. Obviously I’d employed about as much forward planning as Hitler when he decided it was a good idea to send boot-less men into a Russian winter — hadn’t pre-registered, hadn’t got a pen and couldn’t find my glasses. Having probably ticked all the wrong boxes, in I went. Now I don’t know about you, but I then usually spend 10 minutes wondering about how best to cruise the show, and attempt some aisle by aisle plan that will guarantee I don’t miss a thing. And as usual by the time I’ve figured out what I’m doing I’ve bumped into a customer from Cornwall and wandered off, being reminded by him that I’m still the worst surfer they’ve seen in the south west since an overweight sailor was washed up on a log.
Plan out the window then, a random wander, and who should we see first but Mr Roper, authorised dealer of M&R. In a re-run of Crouching Tiger Hidden T-shirt his folding contraption suddenly came to life, and in a blur of karate chops produced a well folded garment. Impressive, and I almost wished we still did large volume printing so I could have one — imagine how neat your wardrobe would be with kit like that. I soon realised that things are going well for Dave as he passed me a bottle of his own brand of mineral water, fresh from the Roper Springs just outside Wolverhampton…We chatted about forums, I met his European counterpart, and in the combined company of 60 years in the garment trade I was immediately reminded of why I come to this show; I was learning things already, that’s what it’s all about.
On my way then, and a trip to the NEC wouldn’t be complete without a cardboard cup of cappuccino — the usual method is to suck the stuff through a pin hole in the plastic lid. You are then led into a false sense of security by the cool froth before being hit with brown molten lava and sustaining third degree trap burns. I try to put the fire out with some polystyrene packing material masquerading as fruit cake and, unable to see properly, decide I’d better find some friendly faces. Clutching my face I career onto the Continental stand. And that’s another reason to come to the show — to put faces to names. I speak to these chaps every day, sometimes even about their T-shirts, which we all know are most lovely and changing the moral and ethical direction of the industry. But a few hours here can somehow humanise the rest of the year’s work, as you’re not just calling an invisible person to order some stock. You now know what Rob Shirley and Mark Zegan actually look like, and dammit they’re handsome (that’ll be a tenner chaps, each, the keys to the TVR and a free box of NO3’s).
Having regained the ability to speak we’re off again, a hand shake from a man who seems to think my name’s Paul Clapham, and I’m in the company of industry legend John Potter, and the machinery guru known only to the chosen few, Professor Kevin Alcock. Now I would tell you about the conversation we had, I really would, and if this was Private Eye it might just get printed, but what I can say is that as I steadied myself against John’s rather spanking new dryer to contain my laughter, I was reminded of a third reason why I come to this show: we’ve got some great characters in this game and I’m always glad to see them, which is more than I expect can be said of the Euro Tool Fest in Hall 2. I chuckled off, had a quick look at the industry awards (nice work everyone), and in need of a hug and a big smile thought I’d better drop in on Glen and Sue from BTC — Sue does the hug by the way. As usual we don’t look at any product, it’s an easy chat, BUT, in that 10 minutes as a result of a few apparently unremarkable comments, I entirely changed my view of workwear and acquired a new long-term objective for my business. Can a few hours out of the office and a chance meeting change your direction and possible success? In the company of people who know what they’re talking about, yes it can.
So I’ve meandered around the show, and you’ll be forgiven for thinking I’ve meandered about this article but there is a point. When disgruntled of Chipping Sudbury talks about the Printwear show they say things like: “The parking was £8.00 you know, and there were fewer exhibitors than last year; there were hardly any new products and the lanyard for the name badge has aggravated my eczema”.Well maybe that’s not the point — look beneath the surface, and there are a few hundred years worth of combined knowledge in that hall, poised and waiting to share it all with you. As important as the shiny new equipment and the new bobble hat with three ear flaps, in fact more important, are the relationships — creating new ones and cementing old. And that’s why I’ve been out too long, and that’s why I’m happy to pay £8.00 for parking, and that’s why Fifi has made fluffy love with two cushions, a chair leg and a sock.
Cheers,
Paul
