A man sits in a modern white lounge chair, playing a black guitar near a large floor-to-ceiling window with a scenic view of palm trees, the ocean, and blue sky.
A man sits in a modern white lounge chair, playing a black guitar near a large floor-to-ceiling window with a scenic view of palm trees, the ocean, and blue sky. A man sits in a modern white lounge chair, playing a black guitar near a large floor-to-ceiling window with a scenic view of palm trees, the ocean, and blue sky.

Where Frustration Became Innovation

In early 2023, Cord and Caroline Pereira exited California and started splitting their time between Santa Barbara and Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Sunsets, ocean breezes, tacos pastor on demand—whole different rhythm.

But for Cord the this rhythm came with real musical sacrifice.

Back in Santa Barbara, Cord was lead guitarist for the Doublewide Kings—a band of best friends that was a classic rock staple in Santa Barbara known for taking on ambitious theatre tribute projects with the symphony and supporting local non profits. So going part-time with the band wasn’t some casual scheduling tweak. It meant no rehearsals, fewer shows, fewer of those special live musical moments that keep a musician feeling plugged in with his buddies and the fans.

A live concert scene with a Cord Pereira with the Doublewide Kings and Santa Barbara Symphony in the center playing an electric guitar on stage at the Granada Theatre, a singer at right, and an orchestra in the background under a blue-lit screen.

So Cord did what musicians do when they can’t be on stage as much: he leaned even harder into having guitars ready at home, always within arm’s reach—on stands, on the wall, ready for a spontaneous jam.

And that’s when Puerto Vallarta decided to join the band.

Within weeks, Cord realized the humid, salty ocean air in Puerto Vallarta was straight-up bullying his guitar strings. Leave a guitar out like a normal human? Corrosion. Fast. The kind of corrosion that makes your strings feel gritty and tired.

For Cord, it was especially brutal because it forced him into the one thing he hates: putting the guitar away in a hard case to protect it. Which sounds fine in theory, except it turns playing into a chore—unlatch, open, lift out, tune, wipe down… and suddenly that “quick five-minute jam” is a whole production. Less impulse practicing. Less random inspiration. More friction. And musicians hate friction.

Cord tried to keep it cool. For about a year, he did the polite thing—pretended it didn’t drive him nuts. But the burden grew. Every day the guitar stayed cased up, the music got a little farther away.

Then came the visit that changed everything: Hugo Knef—Cord’s longtime friend and former high school bandmate—rolled into Mexico. Hugo is the Swiss Army knife of musicianship: the kind of guy who has sat in with the Doublewide Kings playing pedal steel and drums (sometimes on a suitcase kit) on the same tune like it’s completely normal.

But Hugo’s not just musical—he’s a waterman. A skipper of a 200 passenger water taxi on the San Francisco Bay. A hands-on problem solver. And—key detail—someone with an eye for design and pro sewing skills to complement Cord's creative vision.

A man wearing glasses and a white t-shirt is shown repairing a natural wood electric guitar on a light-colored table. He is using a soldering iron and tools, with a beer bottle and other small items on the table next to him.

So between hangs and jams, Cord and Hugo started circling the real question:

“How do you protect the strings—the most exposed, most vulnerable part—without putting the guitar away?”

They went through a handful of design swings, including an early concept described as a “neck condom” (which deserves a respectful nod for its courage). But iteration after iteration, they landed on the breakthrough:

A simple, clever cover that shields the strings from dust, oxidation, and salty humidity—while the guitar stays out on a stand or wall, ready to grab and play.

That was the birth of the String Case.

And then the bonus magic happened: because Cord already had his Talent Tees digital printing world, the String Case could do something traditional cases never even considered. It could bring personality to the instrument—so every guitar on the wall could have its own look, its own vibe, its own story. If that wasn't differentiating enough, the now patent-pending design could also transform the String Case into a guitar strap.

So yeah—credit the move to Mexico. The ocean air started the problem… but it also sparked the solution. And in a funny way, what began as a sacrifice (going increasingly part-time as a "special guest" with the Doublewide Kings) became the push that created a whole new way to keep guitars accessible, protected, and ready to play.

Two men wearing matching gray t-shirts with 'Seeing Cases' printed in yellow script, standing outdoors under a blue sky with palm trees and event screens in the background.