I was only sixteen years old, and still I was left thinking, What does a girl have to do to get a sponsorship deal around here?
It was around this time that Daddy hooked up with a man named Arnon Milchon—a real mover-and-shaker out in Los Angeles. Over the years, Arnon has become a great friend and mentor. When I met him, he was a successful Hollywood producer and a real risk taker. He also owned a stake in Puma, which was how we got together. He was a huge tennis fan and one of the few people outside my family who saw my potential—at least in endorsement terms. He thought I had a big future in tennis, and that while I was at it I could help lift the Puma brand, so it looked like there’d be a good fit all around.
Arnon came along at just the right time. In my head, I was back to thinking no one believed in me, just like that newspaper reporter, or anyone else in tennis. This wasn’t about tennis, not really, but at the same time it was. No one could see past the fact that I was Venus’s sister. No one thought I’d be a force in my own right, even after Chicago. That is, no one until Arnon. He’s been an unbelievable person in my life from the day we met. One of my dreams, outside of tennis, was to be an actress, so he was helpful to me in that arena as well. He set me up on a bunch of screen tests and auditions, and introduced me to casting people and acting coaches. Whenever people ask me what I would have done if I couldn’t play tennis, I tell them I would have been an actress. Okay, so I probably would have been a struggling actress, but I would have given it a shot—and Arnon helped me reach for that as well. I used to tease him that he was like my adopted stepfather.
Arnon had faith in me, and he convinced his team at Puma to have faith as well. Daddy and I flew out to Los Angeles to meet with them. Arnon’s daughter Alexandra was involved in the business, so she was there, too. It was the longest meeting. We got started around lunchtime and we were still going at midnight. It was one of those negotiations where everyone was getting along, and we were all determined to get a deal done, no matter how long it took. At some point, I put my head down on this big conference table where we were sitting and fell asleep. The holdup seemed to be between Arnon and his partner, Jochen Zeitz. Arnon was a bit more of a risk taker than Jochen, and at first it was kind of funny to watch them go back and forth about whether they should do a deal, and at what level, but after a while it wasn’t so funny. I didn’t care so much about the deal terms. All I cared about, really, was the deal itself. I wanted a sponsor. I wanted someone to believe in me. That was my bottom line. I wanted to be able to shake hands with these people, deposit the good faith they had in me, and then step out on a court and show the world that there was this great company behind me, Puma. It would be like a seal of approval, at a time in my life when I desperately needed a seal of approval.
Alexandra Milchon was so nice, so attentive. When I fell asleep, she came over, gently shook me awake, and asked me if I’d be more comfortable lying down. Daddy told her I was fine just where I was. He wanted me to be at the table, even if I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was just a kid, but he thought it was important that I be in on this. And it was—as long as I could stay awake!
The key message here was that it wasn’t just Puma taking a chance on an upstart like me. It was me taking a chance on Puma. It cut both ways. Daddy helped me recognize that. Usually, in a successful partnership, both sides have as much at stake. That’s how it shook out here. Puma hadn’t really sponsored anyone in tennis before. They were big in soccer and other sports like track and field, but not tennis. In fact, they didn’t even have a line of tennis shoes, like Reebok or Nike, so it was a big risk for me, too, throwing in with them. The idea was they were going to create a whole new tennis line with me in mind, which was kind of exciting, but at the same time it was kind of uncertain, so each side was taking a leap. At sixteen, I didn’t have the most sophisticated business sense, but even I could see that with great risk comes great reward, and happily that’s just how it turned out.
When we finally shook hands on a deal, all I wanted was a bed. I was still operating on Florida time, so I was wiped. But at the same time, underneath this allover exhaustion, I had this tremendous feeling of validation. Again, I didn’t care about the money. I cared about the handshake. I cared about the vote of confidence, that these Puma people believed in me enough to cut a deal and get behind me in this big-time way. That was everything.
Well, not quite everything. There was also the matter of the clothes! Fast-forward another week or so. I was home in Florida, back to my routine of school and practice and school and practice, when this huge box arrived from Puma. I couldn’t wait to see what was inside. They still didn’t have a tennis line, but they were a European company, and they had all this great gear. Extremely cool stuff. Out-there stuff. Exciting stuff. Sportswear, mostly. I tried it all on, and it was such a thrilling moment, because I knew at the other end someone or some group of someones had collected all this stuff hoping I would like it. They put this box together with me in mind. Me! Forget all the little tastes of success I was having on the court. Forget that thrilling run to the semis in Chicago, past all those top-ranked players. It was this moment, going through this giant box of Puma gear that all fit perfectly, where I felt I’d finally arrived as a player.
Before I hit another tennis ball, I knew I’d grown my game.
For the first couple tournaments after I’d signed my deal, Puma still didn’t have a pure tennis line, so they threw together something appropriate for me to wear. One of the first things I got to wear for them was this adorable neon blue shirt, with the Puma cat in the middle. It was my very favorite shirt, then we highlighted it with a cute white skirt—and I felt like such a princess when I took to the court in my thrown-together outfit—a powerful, purposeful princess. I had my own hopes and dreams on my racquet, along with the hopes and dreams of this great company.
From the very beginning, Puma wanted me to work with them on their designs. By that point, I guess I’d developed a kind of trademark look on the court, so they sought my input. That made me so happy! We used to sit together with a design pad and work out these different ideas, like the one we came up with for the famous catsuit I wore at the 2002 U.S. Open. Man, that outfit turned a lot of heads and caused a lot of controversy, but what most people didn’t realize was it was so comfortable! Of course, that catsuit was so hot I would have worn it even if it was the most uncomfortable thing in the world, but it was designed with performance in mind.
They had me wearing all kinds of outrageous outfits. It got to where people started to wonder what I’d wear at the start of each tournament. I became known for my outfits as much as for my aggressive, relentless style of play. Spandex. Polyester. Lycra. Denim—later on, when I signed with Nike. Best I could tell, no one had ever worn denim on the tour, other than Andre Agassi on the men’s side, so that was our inspiration, to try something a little different, and here it was a sport denim so there was some give to it. Whatever the designers could put together in an exciting, cutting-edge sort of way, I’d try it on or maybe give it my own spin or flourish. And then we’d accessorize, with big hoop earrings, or a bold new hairstyle.
Sometimes, if I was uncertain about a particular look or outfit, I’d run it by V, who also had a flair for what she wore on the court. Her advice was always the same. “Looks like fun, Serena,” she’d say. “If you don’t wear it, I will.”
And that was usually that.
The second development on the fashion front came with a gentle push from Venus. Actually, it was more like a shove. I was sitting at home at the house we now shared in Florida, twiddling my thumbs, not doing much of anything beyond tennis. I’d graduated a year early from high school and never really saw the need to continue with my education. I thought I knew what I needed to know—and what I didn’t know, I could learn soon enough.
But Venus had taken a different approach. After high school, she signed up for college. It wasn’t a full-time deal because of the demands of the tour, but once our season began to wind
down in late fall she’d sign up for a couple courses at the Art Institute and use her time productively until the season started again in January. The way she worked it out, it was just enough time to complete the winter semester.
V was on me all the time to join her at school, but I couldn’t be bothered. She insisted it would be fun, but I was too busy doing nothing. I was back into Golden Girls mode, the way I’d been during that stretch when I was home-schooled in seventh and eighth grade. I was watching television, hanging out, playing tennis, watching television, hanging out, playing tennis… I’d sit down on the couch in front of the set, and I couldn’t get up if I tried. V would burst in after another one of her busy days and say, “You’re wasting your life, Serena.”
Oh my goodness, she was on me. And she had a point. I was such a slug! One day, she got so fed up with me she just signed me up for classes, without even discussing it. She came home that afternoon and said, “That’s it. I’m tired of watching you waste your time like this. You’re going to college.”
So that’s what I did, all on the back of V’s gentle shove, and it was a good thing, too, because I really was just wasting away in front of the television. Leave it to my big sister to know what was best for me. School was a blast. It was so much work, but at the same time it was so much fun. Most nights, we were there until eight or nine o’clock, working on some project or other. I studied design and fashion, so most of my courses had me sewing and drawing, learning the construction of a garment, considering which fabrics might work on which designs. I also took a sampling of liberal arts courses—math, science, and history—but most of my efforts were in the fashion curriculum, and I developed a real appreciation for design. In one class, we had to learn about more than one hundred different fabrics, so I came away with a great understanding of the manufacturing end of the business, and at the other end I really knew my stuff when I sat down with those Puma designers to develop a new line.
The school year was broken into quarters, and because of our wall-to-wall tennis schedules we could only attend during the fall-winter quarter. Normally, it’s a two-and-a-half-year haul for an associate’s degree, so on our slow-track schedule it would have taken just short of forever for us to complete the degree, but we stuck with it. In the end, Venus stuck with it a whole lot longer than me. But it was a great experience and a fantastic introduction into the fashion industry. Without those courses as a foundation, I don’t think I ever would have been confident enough to start designing my own clothes, my own jewelry, or my own handbag collection—all of which came soon enough.
Somewhere along the way, I developed this obsession with Vera Wang. I started to think if things didn’t work out for me in tennis, I could always design wedding dresses for a living. I have piles and piles of sketch pads at home, with pages and pages of designs. That’s how I passed the time on those long plane rides back and forth to tournaments, or those long, lazy afternoons stuck in my hotel rooms, with nothing to do between matches but hit and work out and watch what I ate. I sketched and sketched, and dreamed of the day when I could finally launch my own line.
Gradually, I moved off wedding dresses and into evening wear, which I thought would be a whole lot less stressful. I thought, Who wants to spend her days designing fashions for all these anxious brides? Plus, it’s such a limited market. With evening wear, I encouraged myself to think in all different styles, from formal to informal. Gowns. Cocktail dresses. Tops. Accessories. Even tennis and athletic wear. I was all over the place, and before I knew it I’d developed an entire line, which I started to call Aneres—Serena, backward. I thought that was fitting—a backward name, for a fashion-forward line. It took a while, though, for these designs to see their way into any kind of finished product, because by this point Arnon Milchon had sold his stake in Puma, and Daddy had negotiated a new sponsorship package with Nike, only here the terms didn’t really allow me to pursue my own line. In the end, I had to put a lot of my designs on hold. That was cool, because I was finally in business with the top sportswear company on the planet. It was where I felt I should have been all along. Nike was open to some of my sportswear designs, which was great, and we put together some memorable, head-turning looks for me that helped to reinforce my burgeoning persona as a true tennis diva.
Best piece of advice I got on my fashion career? It came from my dad, of all people. I found myself running into so many dead ends trying to get my clothing line off the ground, and I started to get frustrated. One day, I threw up my hands and announced I wasn’t going to launch my own line after all. I was going to put my energy into something else. Daddy heard this and sat me down for a talking-to. He said, “Serena, you don’t drown by falling into the water. You drown by letting yourself stay there.”
He was right. I’d fallen into the water and wouldn’t let myself swim to shore. I was drowning, and taking my dreams down with me—hearing no the first time and leaving it at that. But I would never let myself hear no on the tennis court, so why was I so quick to back down in this endeavor?
As I write this, in January 2009, I’m looking ahead to the launch of my Aneres line on the Home Shopping Network, where we’ll offer fun, everyday dresses at reasonable prices, along with tops and bags and jewelry—the kind of clothing and accessories I wish I’d had access to when I first started paying attention to my appearance. There’ll be some high-end stuff, too, but not so high that most people won’t be able to reach for it.
Here again, it’s such a tremendous validation to be in business with people who value your contribution, to know you’re not just lending your name to the endeavor but your creativity as well. In the fashion industry, it’s like each item carries a little piece of you into the marketplace, and with every purchase you’re making a powerful, personal connection with your customer. It’s such an intimate transaction. You’re out there as a designer, exposed, vulnerable, and if people respond to your creations there’s such a gratifying feeling of accomplishment that comes your way as a result. It’s unlike any sense of accomplishment I’ve ever felt on the tennis court, and at the same time I imagine it helps me play a stronger, more confident game.
Here’s how I see it: when people invest in one of your designs, they’re investing in you. They’re putting it out that they believe in you and they like what you stand for. They’re standing with you, behind you, alongside you. It’s an endorsement, just like when I lend my name and enthusiasm to Puma or Nike or Hewlett-Packard. In success, it fills you with all kinds of empowering, uplifting thoughts and transports you to a place where you start to feel like everyone’s rooting for you to do well. It puts you in a kind of zone—and, while you’re there, to draw strength from a place most athletes never think to look.
Think. U have been writing these notes for years. Just do it. U want/NEED to win. Nothing is too hard for U. Nothing is too tough for U. It’s U and only U!!! U R part of the strongest people alive. Nothing is worse than what your grandparents and great-grandparents went through. Nothing is more difficult. Nothing. Get up, get out and make yourself/your people happy and proud!
—MATCH BOOK ENTRY
EIGHT
The So-and-So Slam
Sometimes, it takes a setback to get you jump-started and on your way; you’ll need to turn adversity to advantage if you mean to compete over the long haul. I suppose I always knew this on some level—it’s human nature in full force!—but it never really came up in all that time on the court. You’d think a thing like this would be drilled into young players, but it’s not something that can be taught or coached or anticipated. It takes a bad patch to get you to realize it for yourself. When you find yourself in the middle of some defining difficulty, you’ve got to roll with it, and figure it out on your own.
It’s like a scene from The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy learns that her ruby slippers always held the magical power to return her home, but she never knew to put that power to use until she realized that home was where she was meant to be, after all. It’s the same with m
e and tennis. When I was just starting out, my parents emphasized skill and fitness and strategy. When I was older, playing with different coaches for the first time, repetition and muscle memory were key. But tennis is a mental game. It has everything to do with the mind-set you take to the court and the personality you carry off of it—the mental toughness that gets talked about into the ground. Technique, fitness, muscle memory… those are a given at the professional level, but it’s what you do with your particular skill set and how you respond to the bad patches and regain your footing that sets you apart.
I didn’t know any of this going in, although if I had I don’t know that the front end of my career would have gone any differently. I mean, when I finally put two and two together here it’s not like I could click my ruby heels whenever I wanted and start winning tournament after tournament. If that’s how it worked, we’d all be trading deuce and ad points late into the night, and no player would ever grab or keep an edge because her opponent would have equal access to the very same edge. No, it’s an epiphany athletes must reach on their own terms, in their own time, and even then it’s unclear what they’ll make of it.
On the Line Page 14