Building A Cult Brand Without Investors or Virality

An interview with BELACARTES founder Trenton Miller

Esteban: Thanks for sitting down with us, Trenton. Let’s start with the basics. What is BELACARTES, and why did you start it?

Trenton: Yeah, man. I started BELACARTES back in 2021—in my parents’ bedroom, actually. It all came from the fact that clothes never really fit me. I'm 6'7", so finding something that worked was always a mission. Back then, clothes weren’t as accessible or cool as they are now. I felt like a pariah growing up—always tall, skinny, never fitting in, kind of shy. So I wanted to create clothes for kids like me—kids who didn’t fit in, but still wanted to feel confident and noticed.

There’s not some big deep meaning behind the name. I just wanted something that sounded foreign and cool. It stuck. It sounded like a world of its own, and that’s what I wanted to build.

Esteban: Let’s talk about those early days. How did it all begin?

Trenton: The real beginning? I made this really bad hoodie through Custom Ink. It said "BELACARTES" across the chest and had a pinky print. I thought it was going to take off and make me a star overnight.

Then I did what everyone does when starting out—simple logo tees in like eight different colorways. Screen printed. I was working a job making $500 a month, and I put every penny into blanks. But nothing was selling. I was sitting on inventory in my bedroom with no clue what I was doing wrong.

So I pivoted. I bought a sewing machine and an airbrush kit. Started reworking thrifted pieces, airbrushing Wrangler jeans from Walmart, doing made-to-order. It was less risky, lower overhead. That’s when I started getting smarter—and started actually learning how to make clothes.

Esteban: When did that shift happen—where you realized you needed to raise your standard and actually learn how to construct garments?

Trenton: It took about seven months. Around Black Friday of that year, I dropped those spray-painted Wrangler jeans and they sold out. That was my first breakthrough. Before that, I was just throwing graphics on whatever I could get my hands on.

Learning how to actually make clothes changed everything. I had more control. My taste started developing. I learned construction by messing up constantly. But when you’re sewing yourself, you’re in the process—you can tweak on the fly, try new techniques. When you work with a manufacturer, you’re sending tech packs and hoping for the best.

One of the biggest things I realized is that your identity as a designer comes from learning the craft. It’s like the piece forms itself through your hands. That’s how I found my voice.

Esteban: What was the biggest lesson in those early days?

Trenton: Consistency. I used to just put stuff out without thinking—no cohesion, no message, no presentation. But eventually I realized that creative consistency—in your designs, your communication, your drop strategy—is everything. Presentation matters just as much as product. Especially now, with how saturated the market is.

When I started thinking in collections, not just random pieces, it changed the game. How you present your world to people makes a massive difference.

Esteban: That sounds like a transition point. How would you describe that shift into stage two?

Trenton: Exactly—stage one was just me throwing stuff out, trying to find my voice. Stage two was about strategy, even if I didn’t realize I was being strategic at the time.

I booked my first real photoshoot. PeerSpace studio, real models, real photographer. I started doing email and SMS signups. I stopped winging it and built real structure. And once I did that, opportunities started coming: repost pages, stylists reaching out, ad agencies offering help. It was like the brand finally looked legit.

Esteban: What triggered that breakthrough?

Trenton: A lot of my reels and TikToks started blowing up. I got posted on underground fashion pages—Lowheads, Hidden NY-style accounts. People started trusting the brand because everything looked more professional. The content brought them in, and the presentation kept them there.

Esteban: And what happened after that? How has the journey evolved?

Trenton: It's been up and down. I had a moment where I was on top of the world—celebrities wearing the brand, song mentions. Then my ego got involved. I got lazy. I kept rinsing the same formulas and thought the momentum would carry itself. That was a huge mistake.

Eventually, things started falling off. I lost traction because I stopped evolving. That humbled me. Since then, I’ve been slowly climbing back—being more intentional, staying consistent, staying a student. You have to kill your ego if you want longevity.

Esteban: What were the biggest breakthroughs along the way?

Trenton: Definitely when celebrities wore the brand early on—it gave BELACARTES legitimacy. Getting mentioned in a song with Lil Yachty was surreal. But even more than that, the real breakthroughs were personal—learning to be humble, to stay focused, to keep evolving even when things are working.

Esteban: Let’s talk about navigating the industry—what have you learned?

Trenton: That people aren’t always what they seem. Stylists will finesse you for free clothes. Big names will ghost you after asking for custom work. I had a guy fly me out to Paris to design for a massive artist. I spent days on the clothes—never heard from them again.

So now I have a radar for people. I can tell who's really down and who’s just using me. But when you’re small, you kind of have to take those risks. You never know what could hit. That’s part of the game.

Esteban: How do you see yourself now—as a businessperson, a designer?

Trenton: I’m just a creative. I don’t really label it. I love building these worlds and telling stories through clothes. That’s what drives me. But I’ve had to learn the business side through trial and error—messing up, losing money, learning the difference between commercial and niche products, and how pricing plays into that.

Esteban: What kind of products did you start with?

Trenton: I started niche. Stuff that would stand out and build identity. Then I slowly added more commercial pieces to fund the brand. Now I try to balance both in each drop—a mass graphic tee, then a crazy handmade piece.

Esteban: What are some key business lessons you’ve learned?

Trenton: 1) Don’t do everything yourself. I waited too long to hire help because I wanted to save money. That killed my pace. 2) Pace is everything. There’s a rhythm in this industry. When you focus on the wrong stuff, it slows you down. 3) Creativity suffers when you’re buried in operations. Delegation lets you stay inspired.

Esteban: What does your team look like now?

Trenton: I’ve got two employees for production and fulfillment, and a marketing agency that handles paid ads and strategy—around 14–15 people total.

Esteban: How have tariffs affected the business?

Trenton: A lot. I had everything dialed in overseas—go-to manufacturers for each product type. Now, I’m starting over. I’ve been sourcing in LA, and we’re transitioning all specialty production locally, and outsourcing only the high-volume pieces.

Esteban: What’s the creative direction going forward?

Trenton: More focus on content—especially short-form storytelling. I want to stop making for the algorithm and start making for my community. It’s about authenticity. I’m also continuing monthly drops and one big in-house fashion presentation each year.

Esteban: And what’s the business structure now?

Trenton: Monthly drops of 6–10 pieces. Mass items are 50–100 units; niche ones are 10–20, made in-house. We use ads and organic content for marketing. I just started implementing early access drops—and it’s working. Things are selling out before public release. I want people to miss out. I want it to feel rare, valuable.

Esteban: What’s your main motivator?

Trenton: Of course, I have to pay the bills. But more than anything, it’s the excitement of creating. I get this rush when a piece comes to life—it’s like a drug. I’m addicted to materializing ideas.

Esteban: Biggest challenge?

Trenton: Time. Balancing everything—production, customs, family, life—is tough. Also, making things cohesive. I have too many ideas, and not all of them fit together.

Esteban: And from a business standpoint?

Trenton: Right now? Tariffs. I feel like a beginner again, trying to rebuild my supply chain. It’s expensive. The minimums are higher. But I’m figuring it out.

Esteban: Final question—if you could go back to day one, what would you tell yourself?

Trenton: Don’t compare yourself to others. Stay in your lane. Don’t be so harsh on yourself. That mindset can crush you before you even get started. Just keep going.

Esteban: That’s gold, man. Thanks for the honesty—and for sharing the full journey.

Trenton: Appreciate you, bro. Always.