Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts

Friday, April 29, 2011

The Story Of The Greatest Shopping Technology That Never Was

Note: All information contained in this post is based on my best understanding and perception of what transpired. I have confirmed with the founders that none of the information contained herein is deemed confidential and is therefore fair game for me to share in this post.

In April 2008, I was introduced to Ugmode, Inc. (thanks to my advisor Terry Winograd). The founders of the company — Arlo Faria and AJ Shankar — were PhD students in Computer Science at UC Berkeley. Arlo and AJ had built a stunning new way of doing product discovery for soft goods. I define soft goods as the category of goods where you’re shopping based on the appearance of the goods (for example, shoes, clothing, sunglasses, watches, jewelery and furniture) rather than the specifications (most consumer electronics fall into this category). So far, almost every shopping website shows products either in an endless list of “Next Page” links (hint hint Amazon — you have so much room for improvement!), or by using keyword search, which doesn’t really cut it. Arlo and AJ had devised a way to use shape and color as the two axes that helped to discover soft goods.

Their site — Modista.com — started out with shoes. When you arrived on the site you saw a diverse set of shoes. You picked the one that was closest to what you wanted (for example beach flip flops vs. dress shoes) and then Modista used that shoe as the seed for showing you a new collection of shoes, sorted by color on one axes and shape on the other. The site automatically adjusted to any display size (anywhere from the iPhone to a 26″ widescreen display) to show you the maximum number of shoes possible. Each time you clicked on which one you liked and the site refined its selection of shoes based on your input.

Modista

It created a fabulous experience for browsing soft good inventory based on what you’re visually looking for. In the user’s mind he or she would be thinking, I want a red shoe, with high heels, but you don’t need to translate that into keywords, you just click on what you like till you get closer and closer to what you like. Progressive refinement at its best.

On the back-end Modista was doing some heavy duty computer vision and image similarity comparisons to produce these results in near real-time. As a two-person team Arlo and AJ built out the whole site and the back-end technology — and built it to scale — at one point they did a A/B test on Zappos and were easily able to handle all the traffic coming to the Zappos test site while being able to show results from the enormous Zappos inventory.

Modista was the perfect fit for K9. It was a team of two sharp Computer Science PhDs, they had core new technology in the form of the algorithms they ran in the back-end, and also core new technology when it came to the display of information. Their business model was to provide retailers with a new interface for shopping for soft goods — something that hasn’t changed a whole lot since Web 1.0. Modista had built Shopping 2.0.

I closely watched the company’s progress over several months and was in awe of the quality of the founders and their execution. On multiple occasions I expressed my interest to invest in the company. The first time I asked them what they needed, they said they just need to crank out code. And crank it out they did. On future occasions, whenever I expressed an interest to invest, the founders came back and told me that they had an acquisition offer on the table! This happened not just once, but multiple times. Every big company in the online retail space wanted to buy them at some point along the way.

One occurrence of this was in Q1/Q2 2009. Modista was in talks for being acquired by a major player in the retail space – Zappos.com. While Zappos was doing diligence on Modista, the issue was brought up that one of other companies in this space — Like.com, founded by Munjal Shah — had filed for some IP in this area. Modista had been forewarned that Like.com had a “history of being litigious”. While I cannot be certain of what the actual reasons were, my speculation is that Zappos didn’t want to rock the boat by going through with the Modista acquisition, because concurrently with their discussions to acquire Modista, they themselves were engaged in discussions to be bought by the 800-pound gorilla in the space — Amazon.com.

In August/September 2009, the founders and I agreed to work together to raise a round of financing for the company. I helped introduce the company to various angels and lead the effort to form a syndicate for their fund-raising round. We pulled together about $600K of commitments and interest, for a $500K-target financing round.

 

As I mentioned, Modista’s closest big competitor in the space was Like.com. Like.com was already aware of Modista, and, (I believe) was also aware of the fact that Arlo and AJ were out trying to raise money. The day before we were supposed to sign the term sheet for the investment, Like.com sued Ugmode (the parent company of Modista.com) for patent infringement. Apparently, Like.com had a patent (‘610 patent) issued about two months before in the broad area of using computer vision for product search.

In my opinion, this is a patent that should never have issued in the first place since there is a lot of prior art in the space, including a lot of academic literature that should have (again, in my personal opinion) invalidated the Like.com patent to begin with.

To Arlo and AJ’s credit, as soon as they got served, they called to let me know what was going on. The lawsuit completely killed the financing prospects for Ugmode. The estimate for resolving a patent infringement dispute was about $1M in legal costs and the process could potentially take at least 2 years. Regardless of how much I liked the founders of the company, I could not in good conscience invest my LPs’ money in a company where a significant amount of the proceeds of the financing, if not all, would go straight to lawyers. The reaction from all the other committed investors was also appropriate and unanimous: “We love these guys, and it sucks to see this happen to them, but we can’t sign up for a lawsuit.”

At this stage, the team had had no prior financing. They had a small amount of cash in the bank from having won two business plan competitions that they used to finance the company to date. To put in bluntly, Modista didn’t even have the cash to be able to hire a patent litigator to defend them in this frivolous (in my opinion) lawsuit brought about by a company to simply try and reinforce its patent position against bigger players.

Modista had only had modest revenue to date (~5K) and had by no means gotten to the point where it was having an impact on the revenues of Like.com. However, it was clear to me, and probably to Like.com as well, that even as a two-person team Arlo and AJ were technically far superior to anything Like.com could ever produce and hence were in the long term probably a threat to Like.com. (Note: Like.com never asked for any damages in the lawsuit and only wanted an injunction against Modista)

Arlo and AJ are way too nice to go around slinging mud at anybody. And it’s been with their guidance that I have refrained from telling this story publicly before. They prepared a fairly long dossier of information which showed that the Like.com patent should have never been issued by the PTO and also dissected the patent sufficiently to show that even if the patent was upheld, they weren’t doing exactly what was in the patent anyway. However, even though as Computer Scientists they could examine and explain this to any other person who was a Computer Scientist, explaining it to a judge and to a jury would probably be a different ballgame altogether. That falls into the realm of hiring and paying for high priced litigators who can twist and turn words for an audience that isn’t an expert in the subject.

Apparently in a meeting with Like.com’s founder and CEO, Munjal Shah, they were essentially told that they should give up their own startup, and just come work for Like.com. I don’t know about you, but as an entrepreneur if someone threatened me that way I’d tell them exactly where to put their words and their smart-ass idea.

Apparently a corporation can only be represented by an attorney in a litigation and cannot be represented by the founders or officers, even if the company cannot afford counsel. Long story short, the lawsuit torpedoed Modista’s financing. And since they didn’t have the money to hire lawyers to defend themselves, they had to accept a default judgment against the company, which forced them to shutdown Modista.com.

Modista shut down notice

A few months later, when I heard that Google was acquiring Like.com, I was only more disappointed. Google so far has played nice with startups and has had a positive impact on the startup eco-system (especially for exits, less so for hiring!) Google now owns the patent that caused Modista.com to be shut down. I sincerely hope the folks at Google read this post, so that they know what they bought.

 

The Valley thrives on innovation and creativity. Arlo and AJ demonstrated their innovation and their creativity in what they created with Modista. It is really sad to see two sharp young entrepreneurs spend more of their time learning about the intricacies of the legal process, rather than getting to spend time on building their product and their company. It is even more sad to see companies such as Like.com that prey on small young startup founders before they’ve even gotten out of the gate.

I’m all for competition and for a fair fight. Fight on the basis of a better product, a better user experience, fight on pricing, fight on things that show that you are better. But using your big VC dollars to put fledging startups out of business, that’s just in bad taste. To that effect, it’s probably good to also mention that Like.com was backed by First Round Capital, BlueRun Ventures, Bay Partners, Leapfrog Ventures, Menlo Ventures and Crosslink Capital to the tune of $47.3M, according to Crunchbase.

The purpose of this post isn’t to debate the pros and cons of software patents. If you’re interested in that discussion, my advisor and mentor, Brad Feld has written extensively about software patents on his blog. My friend Daniel Tunkelang has also authored several blog posts on this topic on his blog, some of which are inspired by (and also mention) Modista. To summarize that discussion, the system is broken at many levels. Starting from the overburdened PTO that issues these software patents all the way to the complexity of IP litigation which makes it prohibitively expensive to defend against unwarranted lawsuits.

Like.com has been assimilated by the big G, so we can certainly hope that they won’t be out to get other fledgling startups (and yes, I’ve seen many more startups using computer vision based techniques — something Like.com wanted the world to believe they had a monopoly on). However, the IP climate remains unchanged, and it’s likely that other villains will continue to exploit similar situations.

The Valley is a fascinating place — you hear stories about it every day. But not all the stories in the Valley get told. I didn’t want the story of Modista going untold and so I’m taking it upon myself to share their story — from my perspective.

We all like a story that has a good ending. This one didn’t end well. But, having worked closely with Arlo and AJ through the thick and thin of this journey I have nothing but the utmost regard for them as entrepreneurs. I told them then that “Whatever you do next, I’m ready to back you anytime.” They’ve both since moved on. Arlo is back at Berkeley wrapping up his PhD, and AJ is now working on a new startup, which I’m proud to be already be an investor in.

So here’s a toast to Modista.com — the site that built the best new shopping technology I’d seen in a while, but didn’t survive.

This post originally appeared at K9 Ventures.

For the latest tech news, visit SAI: Silicon Alley Insider. Follow us on Twitter and Facebook.

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The Story Of The Greatest Shopping Technology That Never Was


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Friday, April 15, 2011

The Real Story Behind The Mom Who Launched A Twitter War Against America's Number One Prep School

Seema KaliaWhat started as a routine dispute at the nation’s No. 1 prep school has gone nuclear on social media. Nick Summers on what’s really behind the outlandish accusations.

Private schools and parents often clash. And in New York, where there are the best schools and the wealthiest parents, those clashes can get ugly. But at Manhattan’s Trinity School—the storied, 300-year-old academy that has educated Rupert Murdoch’s son Lachlan, Truman Capote, and Yo-Yo Ma, among a long line of notable names—one parent is taking her fight to an unusual, and very public, extreme.

This disgruntled mother has gone beyond drop-off huddles with other moms and dads, turning instead to Facebook, Twitter, and parenting message boards to unleash a series of what are widely viewed as outlandish charges against Trinity’s board, without any hard evidence to support them. But supported or not, her accusations are now percolating through the gossipy private-school community. For an institution like Trinity, ranked the No. 1 prep school in the country and accustomed to resolving its squabbles in private, this is wildly uncharted territory.

The parent is Seema Kalia, whose daughter has a prized position in the second grade at Trinity. Last year Kalia, a law school graduate and former TV host who has also written for The Huffington Post, feuded with a school staffer, telling Trinity that she thought the woman’s credentials were phony. Trinity, as powerful prep schools often do when challenged, came down hard. The headmaster told Kalia and her husband, fund manager Vedula Murti, to stop talking about the subject in the small Trinity world—or else their daughter would be in danger of expulsion.

“If you are unwilling to meet with us,” wrote headmaster John Allman in an Oct. 13, 2010, email, “I cannot see how the school can continue its relationship with your family.” Trinity believed that Kalia agreed to drop the matter. Just to make sure, though, Allman underlined the school’s warning again the next day by email: keep up the smears, and your second grader is out.

In December Trinity chose not to offer a kindergarten spot to the family’s young son—and things got nasty from there. The parents furiously protested. Kalia says that school officials dissed her at faculty meetings, and waged a “horrible kind of hate campaign” against her. The school says that in January, Kalia, who is of Indian descent, wrote emails to fellow parents accusing the school staffer of “racism and incompetence”; claiming that the family was withholding a large financial gift until the woman’s firing; and describing Trinity’s board as “overt bully unintelligent racists.”

The school came down hard again: the family would have to leave Trinity at the end of the school year. And their daughter would be ejected immediately if Kalia kept up her campaign. But Kalia has instead escalated, going to war with hundreds of posts on Twitter, Facebook, and the rumor-hungry forums of UrbanBaby.com—and offering a whole new set of allegations that Trinity’s trustees have conspired to commit tax and accounting fraud.

Little if any evidence has emerged to support Kalia’s many accusations. Asked repeatedly for documentation or even an explanation of how she came to believe there was financial wrongdoing, she has declined. In an interview and email correspondence, Kalia refused to back up her claims with what could be considered legitimate proof, and she rarely dwelled on any one charge long enough or coherently enough to examine it before moving on to the next. Trinity, for its part, denies each of her charges in unequivocal language.

Nonetheless, Kalia’s incessant postings since April 4 have roiled the tiny, super-elite world of the New York City private school system. The patrician school, observers say, is caught in a social media dilemma: respond to the allegations and legitimize them; or stay silent, and allow them to fester.

The tweets are strident and often grandiose. “Trinity trustees:Don't take a great school down with you.RESIGN TODAY.You failed us all, don't destroy the School too,” reads one from Monday. Another: “Controlling internet? Seizing email? CongratsTrinity Trustees are now an ‘oppressive-foreign-dictator-level’ of crazy.” Often, Kalia appends the hashtag #trinitytrusteesfraud. Longer posts with difficult to follow arguments and inaccurate information appear on her Facebook page.

Despite the rancor, Kalia’s daughter remains enrolled at Trinity. The school has avoided speaking about the situation until now, but agreed to talk to The Daily Beast.

“All the allegations that I’ve seen are utterly baseless, and absolutely false,” says Trinity’s spokesman, Kevin Ramsey. Told that Kalia had repeatedly questioned on Twitter why Trinity had not denied that it was the subject of an IRS investigation, Ramsey laughed. “I’ll deny it right now,” he said. “We have received no letter. There’s no investigation, there’s no audit, there’s been absolutely no communication from the IRS regarding Trinity School.” An IRS spokesman said that as a matter of policy, the agency does not confirm or deny whether it is investigating any given person or organization. Ramsey flatly denied Kalia’s allegation that Trinity’s trustees voted themselves compensation and tuition breaks. (At tony schools like Trinity, trustees are typically expected to help bring in millions of dollars in donations, not take $35,000 tuition credits for themselves.)

Some who work in the New York private school scene think Trinity has waited too long to speak. “Parents in general go on ‘all rumor is based on truth.’ So if somebody’s talking this much about it, there’s gotta be some truth to it, and people want to listen,” says Dana Haddad, an educational consultant who helps students get into schools like Trinity, and who has been following the fracas. “Every school, if they’re not stupid, should be worried about social media. They [Trinity] have been going on ‘Let’s not respond,’ but I don’t know how well that’s working.”

In addition to deluging Twitter and Facebook, Kalia has also sought out the traditional media and has hired a public relations firm. By Trinity’s count, seven New York newsrooms, print and broadcast, have begun looking into her allegations. So far, none has bit. (Kalia did not approach The Daily Beast, which began reporting this story upon learning that her charges had become a topic of discussion among parents.)

Murti, Kalia’s husband, is silent on her campaign. “No comment,” he said when reached at his office, a $200 billion Canadian institutional fund manager. “I have nothing to add.”

It is, of course, possible that she will deliver on her proof and deal the 300-year-old school a serious blow. But in Kalia’s world, proof seems always just around the corner. As she tells it, a crossing guard overheard an administrator whisper about trustee resignations “tomorrow.” She has damning IRS documents, but says they can’t be released for 60 days. On Twitter, she advises her followers to “Wait for it…”

Working the gossips of UrbanBaby into a lather is a low bar; losing them lower still. Posters there have now turned against Kalia. “SK should write a clear, chronological account what she knows, how she knows, with links to the evidence. This [linked] Facebook posting is barely literate, and definitely incomprehensible … There is clearly nothing to her ‘allegations.’”

New York private school parents regularly make headlines for their outrageous behavior—last month a Manhattan mother sued her 4-year-old’s preschool for not adequately preparing her for an admissions exam. But the Kalia situation, observers of this world agree, is something new entirely.

“The most normal people can absolutely go insane when it comes to their child’s education,” says Suzanne Rheault, the founder of Aristotle Circle, an educational consultancy in New York. “For this woman it’s gone to a whole ’nother degree.”

Nick Summers is a senior writer for Newsweek and The Daily Beast. Previously, he was the media columnist for The New York Observer, founded the blog IvyGate, and was editor in chief of the Columbia Daily Spectator.

This post originally appeared at The Daily Beast.

For the latest news, visit Business Insider. Follow us on Twitter and Facebook.

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The Real Story Behind The Mom Who Launched A Twitter War Against America's Number One Prep School


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