What was the real inspiration behind creating Strike Oil? Where did it come from?

Honestly, it all started as a personal outlet. I never intended for it to be a brand or anything to be sold. It was something I needed to do, a way to expel this trapped, suGocated part of myself. I started with painting on jackets—Saint Laurent jackets I already had—and I’d wear them to modeling gigs. Stylists noticed, and they’d freak out, asking where I got them. I’d tell them I made it. It was raw, straight from the heart.

Now that Strike Oil has grown, how does the fashion world perceive you?

It’s interesting. I went from being really misunderstood to finding my footing, and now, I think—at least I hope—people see Strike Oil as a fully realized brand. It’s hard to separate me from Strike Oil because I’m there every day, designing, managing everything. I went downtown 10 years ago to learn how to make a leather jacket, and here I am, finally feeling confident enough to call myself a designer and creative director.

You mentioned you went to university studying pre-law — why did you go that route initially?

I went to a very traditional British boarding school, and I chose art as a major, but they kicked me out, saying I was no good. It crushed my creative spirit, so I went to law school, got straight A’s, and did everything I was supposed to do. But I felt something was missing. When I started modeling, it all clicked—I needed to create and be in fashion.

What role does representation play for you now?

Representation is massive for me. I believe in what I call “radical acceptance.” Every form of art is valid, even if it’s not your thing. You don’t have to love it, but you should respect it. For me, everyone’s art deserves a place.
Do you see Strike Oil as an act of rebellion or as a way of freeing yourself?
Maybe it started as rebellion, but looking back, I realize I was always surrounded by art and beautiful things. My mom encouraged me to find beauty in the world. It wasn’t rebellion for the sake of rebelling; it was more about finding my own version of beauty.

Your brother, August Getty, has a strong influence on you, right?

Absolutely. We’re polar opposites, but he was one of the youngest designers to show at New York Fashion Week, and seeing his inclusiveness in the industry taught me a lot. We both inspire each other in completely diGerent ways. He’s all about haute couture, and I’m more grunge, but it works.

As a trans man, how does your journey of self-discovery influence your creativity?

Honestly, it’s the other way around. Fashion and clothes helped me realize who I am. They were my armor, showing the world how I wanted to be seen. Through designing, I found myself.

What challenges did you face breaking into the fashion industry?

People didn’t take me seriously at first; they thought I was just playing around. But this wasn’t a phase—I live and breathe this work. It took a long time to shake oG the imposter syndrome, but now I can stand behind what I’m doing.

What advice would you give to someone who wants to break into fashion?

Be fearless, find your people, and don’t overthink what others think. It’s hard, but you’ll find a chosen family who supports you. At the end of the day, if you’re putting good out there, you’ll get it back.

Do you see Strike Oil expanding beyond fashion?

Definitely. Strike Oil has always been a lifestyle brand in my eyes. I dream big—one day, I want to be designing hotel interiors, with Strike Oil robes, candles, and mini bars. The goal is to create spaces with the same raw energy the brand embodies.

In a world obsessed with labels, how do you define the essence of Strike Oil?

It’s a blend of Los Angeles, my experiences abroad, and my life. I’ve lived everywhere—from LA to England to New York. I draw from all those experiences. LA is my core, though. There’s a raw, imperfect beauty to it, and that’s what Strike Oil is about.

What does success mean to you?

Success is a moving target. I set a high bar because of my family’s achievements, but I don’t think anyone ever truly hits “success.” I’d rather have people say, “Nats brand is dope,” and keep moving towards goals I may never reach.

Any final thoughts?

I’m happy to be an evolving contradiction. At the end of the day, I strive for authenticity— whatever that might look like. Cheers to honesty and success, whatever that might be.