May 29, 2024
If you’re into hip hop, you’re probably familiar with a photograph of rapper The Notorious B.I.G., a/k/a Biggie Smalls, looking contemplative behind designer shades with the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in the distance behind him. However, you might not know this well-known portrait has been the subject of litigation for the past five years and that litigation settled just before a trial was supposed to start earlier this year.
Photographer Chi Modu snapped the picture (the “Photo”) in 1996, originally for the cover of The Source hip hop monthly. However, after the magazine used another image, and Biggie was killed a year later, Modu began licensing the image to various companies, including Biggie’s heirs’ own marketing company. The Photo became famous and, after the destruction of the World Trade Center in 2001, what is now commonly called “iconic.”
There was no beef (do people still say that?) between Modu and Biggie’s heirs until 2018 when, according to an attorney for Chi Modu’s widow (the photographer himself passed away in 2021), Modu tried to negotiate increased licensing fees with Notorious B.I.G. LLC (“BIG”), which owns and controls the intellectual property rights of the late rapper’s estate.
Apparently, Modu and BIG weren’t able to reach an agreement because BIG brought suit against Modu and a maker of snowboards bearing the image, asserting claims for federal unfair competition and false advertising, trademark infringement, violation of state unfair competition law and violation of the right of publicity.
In a countersuit, Modu asserted his copyright in the Photo of Biggie preempted all of BIG’s claims. Modu argued that BIG’s claims were nothing more than an attempt to interfere with his right to reproduce and distribute the Photo, as permitted under Section 301 of the Copyright Act.
In December 2021, BIG sought a preliminary injunction barring Modu from selling merchandise including skateboards, shower curtains and NFTs incorporating the Photo, claiming these uses violated its exclusive control of Biggie’s right of publicity. (BIG had previously settled with the snowboard manufacturer.)
In June 2022, the Court granted the injunction in part, concluding that the sale of skateboards and shower curtains was not preempted by the Copyright Act as they did not involve the sale of the Photo itself but rather items featuring the Photo. In its order, it prohibited Modu’s estate from selling merchandise featuring the Photo or licensing the Photo for such use. However, the Court permitted Modu’s estate to continue selling reproductions of Modu’s photo as “posters, prints and Non-Fungible Tokens (‘NFTs’).” The Court found that the posters, prints and NFTs were “within the subject matter of the Copyright Act [as t]hey relate to the display and distribution of the copyrighted works themselves, without a connection to other merchandise or advertising.”
This decision follows a line of cases that distinguish between the exploitation of a copyright and the sale of products “offered for sale as more than simply a reproduction of the image.” In the former situation, a copyrighted work will take precedence over a right of publicity claim. In the latter, where the products feature something more than just the copyrighted work, a right of publicity claim is likely to prevail.
Not surprisingly, given the risks for both sides, the case settled just prior to the start of the trial. Although the contours of the settlement were not made public, presumably it allowed Modu’s estate to continue selling the Photo as posters of it remain available for purchase on the photographer’s website.
May 14, 2024
I’ve posted a few times this year thoughts (here and here) on some of the lessons I’ve learned since starting my law practice, hoping they may be helpful to others in their own business or career.
Now, I’m back with more although this lesson is less about growing and running a business and more about how to deal with (really) unpleasant people, which is something they don’t teach in law school but definitely should.
More specifically, recently I found myself negotiating with a lawyer who easily ranks as one of the three most unpleasant adversaries I’ve ever met. We’d be on the phone and he’d constantly interrupt me with rude lectures on how, in his view, things should be done; he’d follow these verbal assaults with condescending emails purporting to explain basic points of law with which I am quite familiar, thank you very much. (Amusingly, these emails contained glaring errors which I, being generous of spirit, refrained from pointing out.)
While all this was painfully unfolding, my new assistant (hallelujah!) was indexing the topics I’ve covered in my past posts and the monthly email newsletters I send out (the emails are concise and fun; if you’re interested in subscribing, sign up here). While reviewing the results, I came upon a pre-pandemic newsletter where I discussed the Netflix documentary Knock Down the House, which follows Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and three other women who ran for Congress in 2018. In the documentary, AOC gives herself a pep talk before facing then-incumbent Joseph Crowley in a debate. She repeats the mantra, “I need to take up space. I need to take up space. I am here!” This had immediately resonated with me, a female commercial litigator who was constantly having to contend with dismissive male attorneys.
AOC’s message was in my mind during my recent back-and-forth with the aforementioned adversary, Mr. Condescension, Esq. Earlier in my career I would have soldiered through this kind of interaction by putting on a brave face, trying to outsmart my opponent while letting him set the rules of engagement, and tossing at night running through all the things I should have said or done. In those wee hours, I would even start to think that maybe I wasn’t that good at my job (imposter syndrome, anyone?). However, keeping AOC’s “I need to take up space. I am here!” in my head has helped me change this internal dialog and my interactions with opposing counsel.
I’ve also altered my approach to confrontational or potentially confrontational calls. Rather than let an adversary set the agenda for a call, I write down my goals, which can be as simple as being able to truthfully tell a court that I got on the phone with an adversary (many courts require this before submitting a dispute for resolution).
I also write down the tone I plan to maintain on the call: conciliatory, simply, aggressively, etc. I keep this in front of me during the call or any other related interaction. For me, it’s a visible indicator of how I want the dispute to progress toward my end goal and a reminder to stay focused rather than let anyone cause me to veer off the path I’ve set.
Obviously, this isn’t to say that I never deviate from my intentions or outlines. I’m no robot, after all. But by working this way, I am able to make sure I — and, more importantly, my client’s objectives — take up space.
It’s also not to say that I’m 100 percent successful at following my own advice and everything is rainbows and unicorns forevermore. It takes focus and practice. That’s why I make time each week to reflect on where things have gone well and where they have not, reviewing how I’ve stuck to the plan or veered from my approach. Doing this helps me figure out new ways to improve, and keeps those sleepless nights at bay.
April 30, 2024
Lately, I’ve had privacy on my mind. It’s a little personal. After all, it feels like every 30 seconds I’m clicking on or looking at something that wants a piece of my data. And privacy is at the heart of the legislation that just passed which, because of national security concerns, would either effectively ban TikTok in the United States or force the Chinese company that owns it to divest. It’s also central to the book I’m currently reading, Your Face Belongs to Us, which exposes the efforts of a stealth startup to create an enormous database of faces for use by police departments across the United States. My skin is crawling.
Nor does the grossness stop there. Heard of “sharenting”? It’s a mashup of “sharing” and “parenting” that refers to what happens when parents put their kids lives online — often, for profit. A few weeks ago I got sucked into the rabbit hole of Utah “momfluencer” Ruby Franke and her 8 Passengers YouTube channel. That channel documented the life of her family of six children with a focus on parenting advice within her Mormon faith. I’ll spare you the details but suffice it to say that Franke has since pleaded guilty to four counts of aggravated child abuse and is serving time.
Did her children ever want to be part of her YouTube sensation? Does it even matter?
The right of publicity, which I’ve written about in the past (see here and here), including its relationship to AI, is supposed to serve as a kind of limitation. Simply put, the right of publicity is a form of intellectual property protection that prevents the unauthorized use of a person’s name, likeness, photograph, etc. for commercial benefit. However, there’s a big limitation here. The First Amendment, as currently interpreted, limits the right of publicity to speech that is purely commercial. This means that, because Franke was documenting her family’s life, even if there was clearly a financial benefit, she was free to proceed without fear of a right of publicity claim. (She was also free to proceed because as a parent, she could consent for her children to appear on YouTube whether they liked it or not.)
While I don’t have a lot of faith that this interpretation of the First Amendment is going to change anytime soon, my general state of alarm over privacy did make me think about other times where questions about the public dissemination of private information have come up and the relationship of these issues to technology.
Notably, in 1890 Samuel Warren and Louis Brandeis (who went on to become a Supreme Court justice and have a university named for him) authored an article called “The Right to Privacy.” This article, which is frequently cited as the origin of the right of publicity, was prompted by the invention of the Eastman Kodak camera. As Warren and Brandeis noted, “[i]nstantaneous photographs and newspaper enterprise have invaded the sacred precincts of private and domestic life; and numerous mechanical devices threaten to make good the prediction that ‘what is whispered in the closet shall be proclaimed from the house-tops.’”
Interestingly, besides the right of publicity, the article discusses three other possible causes of action to protect privacy — false light, public disclosure of private facts, and invasion of privacy. These rights are premised on something that we seem to have lost along the way: the idea that each of us has a right to maintain control over certain information as private. Or, as Warren and Brandeis put it, “the more general right of the individual to be let alone.” They premise this right “not on the principle of private property, but that of an inviolate personality.” In particular, they call attention to the fact that there’s a difference between expressing thoughts or ideas — the “conscious products of labor” — and “often involuntary expression… in the ordinary conduct of life.”
It’s hard to imagine any phrase from the 19th century hitting home so hard today. In an era dominated by social media, AI deepfakes, cameras everywhere, and a relentless stream of true crime documentaries and podcasts made without the need for permission from victims or their families, it seems like there are no boundaries between what is private and what is public anymore.
I don’t have any great answers here other than to say that it seems like it’s time to revisit the idea that Warren and Brandeis so eloquently promoted: that each person has a right to be left alone unless they say otherwise, regardless of their age or their celebrity.
April 16, 2024
As you probably know, my practice focuses primarily on intellectual property law. Nonetheless, many of the cases I handle tend to cross over into other legal areas, and, for whatever reason, lately I’ve handled a bunch of matters related to restrictive covenants and trade secrets. It’s an area of law I’ve dealt with before, but this sudden uptick of cases at one time is definitely out of the ordinary. Maybe it is something in the water — or maybe it has to do with the Federal Trade Commission’s proposal to ban non-compete agreements, along with the New York State legislature passing a bill banning them (Governor Hochul vetoed it.) It’s hard to say. But it is an interesting, and, if you’re a business owner, important subject.
So let’s talk about restrictive covenants, trade secrets, how they relate to each other, and the enforceability of restrictive covenants because, based on my recent experience, there’s a good deal of misunderstanding — even among lawyers — about what restrictive covenants can and can’t do, what trade secrets actually are, and the enforceability of restrictive covenants.
A note about terminology: Media coverage of the FTC’s proposed ban or relevant state legislation focuses on “non-competes” — agreements where an employee agrees not to compete against his or her employer after leaving employment. In my view, non-competes are just one type of restrictive covenant — the umbrella term I’m using here. This term encompasses not just “non-competes,” but also agreements barring a former employee from soliciting his or her former employer’s customers, vendors, or employees.
Ok, let’s get down to business: Are restrictive covenants enforceable? The short (and very lawyerly) answer is: it depends. Under existing law, restrictive covenants are enforceable to the extent that they are necessary to protect the former employer’s legitimate interest(s), don’t impose an undue hardship on the employee, and aren’t harmful to the public.
These are key points. In New York (where I’m based), courts look at a couple of things (there are some variations between states) to determine if a restrictive covenant meets these criteria. For example, is the covenant for a reasonable time period and is it limited to a reasonable area? One that limits a former employee’s ability to work for companies that directly compete with the former employer for six months may well be reasonable. One that bars a former employee from working anywhere in the world for 50 years, though? Probably not.
In determining whether a restrictive covenant is reasonable, courts also look at whether it’s necessary to protect an employer’s interest. Usually this means that courts want to see that there are trade secrets, confidential information, and relationships an employee developed through his or her employment that need to be protected. In my experience, this is where we run into problems.
Have I seen people take their former employer’s trade secrets, or confidential or highly proprietary information, to their next job? Absolutely. But are there other cases where the information might not really be secret or proprietary? Yes, because there seem to be a lot of misconceptions about what really constitutes a trade secret or confidential information.
For starters, just because an employer calls something a trade secret or says something is confidential, doesn’t mean that a court is going to agree. In fact, courts understand these terms very differently from most people. I think that if you asked a group of reasonably well educated people whether an employer’s client list is a trade secret, most would probably say it is. However, unless it would be really hard or almost impossible to figure out the identity of the clients on that list, many courts will say that list is not not a trade secret. The same goes for a list of vendors.
In other words, in many circumstances, what people think are trade secrets aren’t actually trade secrets. In turn, this means that many restrictive covenants are less enforceable than many employers hope or believe.
However, there are a whole bunch of significant qualifications to this. Most importantly, just because a restrictive covenant may not be enforceable, or may be only partially enforceable, an employee doesn’t have the freedom to do whatever they want with their employer’s information. While someone is employed, they’re required to act in their employer’s best interests; they can’t, for example, influence a client to take its business elsewhere. Similarly, as a general rule, work product created during an employment relationship and on an employer’s equipment, belongs to the employer.
So while our governments and their agencies fight it out over changes to restrictive covenants, make sure you understand what any that apply to you or your company actually can enforce or prevent.
April 2, 2024
In March 2018, iconic fashion house Chanel sued What Goes Around Comes Around (“WGACA”), a reseller of luxury goods à la Poshmark and The RealReal (which Chanel has also sued). These retailers are essentially online thrift stores (WGACA is also brick-and-mortar), solely trafficking in high-end designer goods and apparel instead of ratty Wranglers and stained JCPenney tops.
WGACA, Poshmark, The RealReal, and others of their ilk tout how recycling luxury items is good for the environment (not to mention their bottom lines); Chanel, however, finds their practices less than noble. In its lawsuit, Chanel accused WGACA of trademark infringement and false advertising by selling unauthorized Chanel products and using the Chanel trademark too prominently in its marketing. I wanted to highlight this case because it’s an important lesson in what is and is not permitted when it comes to using someone else’s trademarks and other materials associated with a brand.
Full disclosure: Another reason I find this case interesting is that as the quality of mass retailers gets worse and worse every year, the only way for me to find well-made goods at a non-astronomical price is through the resale market. So yeah, I’m a little personally involved here.
Chanel, Inc. v. WGACA, LLC, went to trial in January of this year. On February 6, the jury returned a verdict for Chanel and awarded them $4 million in statutory damages for willful trademark infringement. How did they reach this conclusion?
Let’s start with some background. Under the first sale doctrine, once a genuine product is sold, the person who purchases it is free to resell it without risk of liability to the brand owner. Likewise, it’s totally fine to use someone else’s brand or trademark to accurately describe the pre-owned item in sales materials. For example, I can snap a photo of a pair of Nike Air Force 1s or a Birkin bag taking up space in my closet, list it for sale on eBay or Facebook Marketplace and use the brand name in my written description along with pics of the brands’ trademarks (assuming the item I’m listing is genuine) — provided I use the marks or brand names only to the extent necessary to describe what I’m selling, and I don’t do anything that might suggest that I’m affiliated with Nike or Hermès or that either company is endorsing my resale of the items.
While there was no question that many (although not all) of the goods WGACA offered were genuine, WGACA ran into trouble with Chanel because there was significant evidence that WGACA used Chanel’s marks too prominently and too often. For example, on social media, it hashtagged posts with #WGACACHANEL. Elsewhere, WGACA featured a Chanel mark more prominently than its own brand mark. Moreover, WGACA’s website and other communications included the statement “WGACA CHANEL – 100% Authenticity Guaranteed.” The jury appears to have viewed this as WGACA suggesting it was endorsed by or had a relationship with Chanel, and on this basis, ruled for Chanel.
WGACA also sold items that, according to Chanel, were never approved for retail, including handbags with voided or pirated serial numbers as well as decorative items Chanel lent to retailers. On this issue the District Court granted summary judgment in favor of Chanel, finding these items were never authorized for sale by anyone, much less WGACA.
What lessons should resellers take away from this? For starters, there’s plenty of room to truthfully advertise the resale of authentic luxury goods. However, it’s important to have specific processes in place to vet any advertising to make sure it doesn’t suggest an affiliation with the brand where there isn’t one. In a similar vein, resellers need to develop programs that ensure the goods they offer for sale are authentic and were originally sold by the brand or, if that’s not always possible, to accurately communicate with consumers.
But the case isn’t closed yet. It remains before the District Court on Chanel’s request that WGACA be prevented from, among other things, using Chanel’s marks to promote WGACA’s business; including the word Chanel in any hashtags; and using in its advertising any Chanel-branded items other than items actually for sale by WGACA.
I’m curious to see what happens at the preliminary injunction hearing. Here, I’m particularly interested in what the Court has to say about the use of hashtags on social media because this seems like an area where, to date, most courts have assumed that a hashtag using a brand name is infringing or gives rise to liability. Perhaps this Court will give us a more nuanced analysis. I hope so, since I believe that resellers like WGACA and The RealReal will continue to thrive as consumers look to both save money and purchase goods with a smaller environmental impact which, as mentioned above, is a key element in these resellers’ marketing. Of course, one could question whether their “green” claims constitute false advertising, but that’s a question for another day.
