The following information is property of The Fashion Spot but also public record. It represents the rough outline for a dramedy-style film based on actual events leading up to the 2012 Olympics Summer Games. In certain cases, incidents, characters, and timelines have been changed for dramatic purposes. Certain characters, events, and conversations may be composites, or entirely fictitious.
Possible Title: "ALPHA DOV"
The movie centers on an entrepreneur and minor mogul named "Dov Charney." Now 43 years old, Dov grew up in Montreal and has spent his entire life driven by the unrelenting desire "to be somebody," i.e. acquire wealth and power: as a young boy, he collected rainwater in mayonnaise jars and sold it to his neighbors; at 11, he wrote and edited his own newspaper to sell for 20 cents. After becoming obsessed with America, enrolling and then dropping out of Tufts University, Dov approached several mothers of his ex-girlfriends, "Mrs. Robinson types" to invest in his fledgling t-shirt business. Eventually, he made his way out West, to Los Angeles, and opened a factory to manufacture his wares. Over the next 15 years, Dov and his retail business "American Apparel" attracted a significant amount of fame and notoriety for the company's commitment to US-made products, oversexed rec room-aesthetic advertising, and Dov's seemingly limitless selection of sexual partners. Despite its pop culture prominence, American Apparel's path has been a bumpy one: with Dov at the mast, the company has faced a bevy of financial and legal troubles over the years. Our story begins in mid-2012, during a financial upswing at American Apparel.
Image via American Apparel
The first episode opens at Dov Charney's Los Angeles mansion. He is the stuffing in a Macbook Pro/couch sandwich. He's wearing tighty-whities and nothing else. Beside him sits a very beautiful eighteen-year-old girl. She isn't wearing any makeup, and her long brown hair hangs straight down her back. She wears striped knee socks and a shiny neon green nylon leotard with a deep v-neck. She examines her immobile face in a compact mirror for the entire length of the scene.
Dov picks up a branded chalice glass half-full of Chimay and the camera lingers on the coffee table, showing a ring of condensation sinking into the wooden surface: Dov doesn't use a coaster. The 4' x 6'8" flatscreen TV hanging against the opposite wall is turned on to ABC’s World News Tonight. Diane Sawyer is running through the details of an emerging controversy: the Olympics are due to start in two weeks in London, and US officals are in an uproar after learning that the US team uniforms, designed by the iconic American brand, Ralph Lauren, were actually made in China.
Charney jolts up, sitting upright on the couch. He slaps his knee, and then turns to his companion.
"Millie. Millie! Are you listening to this? I think I dreamt of this moment."
"Mmm-hmmm." Millie still has the compact open, and she's looking at the inside of her bottom lip.
"This is ours now. It's all ours! It's mine. I'd lost my hold on it, but the world is coming back to me!" The camera zooms in on Dov's face. He's staring intently at the TV screen and his eyes are blazing lava green.
Dov Charney is still wearing tighty-whities. He approaches a wall calendar and crosses off one day. He leaves. We watch the sun rise and set through the window.
Dov enters the frame again. He's still wearing the same tighty-whities, but with a too-small shiny neon green nylon leotard stretched over them. He crosses off another day. We watch the sun rise and set through the window.
Dov Charney enters the frame yet again. He's wearing a slate gray business suit. He goes over to the window, and looks out into the distance. Dramatic music swells. Dov reaches inside his pocket and pulls out an iPhone. It immediately starts to ring.
Dov picks up. "Hey, yeah man. Thanks for calling me back. Sure, sure, I know. Why not, right? Oh you've gotta give to get, I know what you're saying. No way, this is it. Yeah, yeah, since last year. Well, they're really turning things around over there. They said they didn’t want anything that was made in China. It’s not just for the uniforms — it’s also the merchandise. Well, here at American Apparel we have a real commitment to quality, and in that way, we're more than an American brand, we're also a global brand. But in a real way, we're also the quintessential American brand. Are you getting all that? Yeah, yeah, the sun's setting on Ralph Lauren. No wait — don't quote me on that. But if they want to make this right, American Apparel would be proud to stand by our Olympic team. American Apparel could start working on uniforms today and have them in London within seven days. Seven days! Yeah, you can write that."
Dov hangs up and puts his phone back in his pocket. He starts to cross off a day from the calendar, but then he stops, walks a few steps to a blank stretch of wall, and writes on it, with a Sharpie, "Dov Charney Rules." Underneath the text, he draws a phallus.
Dov Charney is sitting on the couch draped in an American flag, looking at articles on his computer. Headlines flash across the screen: "Proudly made in the USA . . . for Russia?" "Dov Charney and American Apparel: A Perfect Storm of Olympics Outrage?" "Russian Olympians Will Wear Uniforms Made By American Brand"
On TV, Diane Sawyer says, “In a twist, we learned today that Team Russia also wants to wear Made in America in 2014. The Russians say they prefer American-made clothes.”
Millie is crouched behind him, rubbing Dov's back. She's wearing red daisy dukes and a stars-and-stripes bikini top. She murmurs, "You are the best man. The best. Sooo good. The only man." Electronic music starts playing and Dov leans into her fingers, purring.
His phone rings.
"It's WWD!" He pushes Millie aside, adjusts his American flag, mutes the TV, and stands up. His back faces the camera as he talks on the phone. The camera zooms slowly in on his hairy butt.
"Dov. Yes, I have a minute. I did say that. They said what? No, no, that's not right. I had contact from an organization that is connected to the government. Nothing has been signed but we were in dialogue. I invited them to come to our London store and buy samples at our expense and see what interests them. Okay fine. Are you going to write about this? Well, okay but I don’t know that every senior person there knows everything that’s going on with an inquiry about product. Yeah, thanks a lot.”
He hangs up and turns to Millie, who's stretched on the floor licking her cuticles.
"That's filthy. You disgust me," he says and spins on his heel. He charges out of the room, the American flag billowing behind him.
Charney is back by the window. The graffiti on the wall now reads, "Dov Charney Rules so bite me losers." His phone rings and he looks at it. The call's coming from a New York City number. He presses "ignore."
The phone rings again. The call's coming from another New York City number. He presses "ignore."
The phone rings again. Another New York number. "Ignore."
Charney bashes the phone into the wall and hurls it out the window.
Charney is sitting on the couch wearing sweats. The floor is littered with crumpled In-N-Out bags and Coors Light cans. He's holding his computer in his lap. He opens up Gmail, types in "Olympics" and hits "Enter." The search yields two results, both from Boris Pavlensky. He opens one of the messages.
The text reads: "Just to be clear, The Russian Olympics Coordinating Committee has a contract with Bosco Sport for Olympics uniforms through 2016. But we reach out to you, American Apparel, because we need additional merchandise to support our team, and we do not want to go through the Chinese."
Dov looks up and sees Millie standing in the doorway, her head bowed. She's wearing a black bandeau bra and sheer white leggings with nothing on underneath. He walks over and tenderly strokes her cheek.
"It's all going to be all right, baby. I’m not as well educated on these Olympic matters as I should be. I’m in the schmatta business,” he laughs disarmingly. "But the sun doesn't set on Dov Charney."