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More sought after than even the Phantom Fuse 3 Sport boardshort!
Before co-founding the most exciting web venture this side of Pied Piper’s data compression algorithm, I was Editor-at-living-Large of Surfing magazine, a fine, albeit conservative, enthusiast title.
My one-day-a-week, in office, consisted of not contributing anything worthwhile at the edit meeting and leaving before lunch. I truly loved my co-workers, each and every one, but I was not built for the cubicle. Or to have bosses. During the five minutes I was semi-lucid, I would yammer on about how conservative every damn thing had gotten. Why couldn’t we have fun anymore? What was so wrong about writing the truth? In my heart I knew the answer. The surf industry had grown into a bourgeois, feckless old man. Surfing magazine was completely benign, but even still, those above me regularly fielded calls from irate surf company middle managers who ruled like nasty little dictators, threatening to “pull ads” for even the slightest infraction. “Who cares?” I always thought. “Let them pull their stupid, suck ads. And let’s double down on their cheek by give them something worth pulling their shit ads over!” I was outvoted.
Hurley was amongst the worst. They once threatened to pull, and/or did pull, over a column likening Nike Surf to the Vietnam War. Bourgeois! Feckless! But feast your eyes on a naked Chris Cote, covered in chips and salsa, maybe getting urinated on, being used to sell…. Hurley! Amazing, you say? Yes it is. I called Chris to get the full story.
“Ha! I used to be a drum tech for Blink-182 and when we were on tour they would pay me extra to do stupid stuff. Once I worked an entire show wearing nothing but Reebok Pumps and underwear. This day, they covered me in chips and salsa and offered them to visiting journalists.”
But how did it come to be a Hurley ad? It does not necessarily reflect Bob’s taste.
“No it certainly does not. I’d have to think he was a bit shocked. You know, I don’t know who made the call on using it as an ad. Maybe Paul Gomez? It was before the company had even started making clothes. Like, right right when Bob split from Billabong. To be honest, I can’t even say if it was officially sanctioned or not.”
How much fun is it to do unsanctioned things? I will tell you. SO FUN! Come ride the Beach Grit train, Hurley. Shake off stern disapproval of, like, everything and live in the sun! We can all eat chips and salsa off of a naked Chris Cote. We can all be wonderful, surfing friends.
Brad Gerlach on who lights up Lowers on the occasion of the Hurley Pro, day one…
Brad Gerlach is the 40-something former world number two, fashion maven (Banks) and surf coach (with book of advanced surfing techniques coming out next spring) who, let’s be honest, ain’t so into stroking his days away at surf events.
“I don’t fucking watch that much,” he says. “My life is fucking exciting and fun and to stop and watch… it’s a fucking arrogant thing to say but the contests are too slow a lot of the time. I have my favourite guys and I watch the replays.”
As part of the event, Gerlach will surf a heat with commentator and ’89 champ Martin Potter. And to bring a little show into the game, Gerlach had the LA-based fashion photographer Kane Skennar shoot this rad photo (with notes of Grace Jones, David Bowie and Steve McQueen) to publicise the heat. The ASP, howevs, reacted with horror.
“They thought it was too racey, too much bikini in it. Dude, it’s laughable. Don’t we do our fucking sport at the beach? And don’t they wear bikinis at the beach? It brings a bit of showmanship to the fucking thing. Instead of (and here Gerr puts on mid-west hick voice) ‘Oh! Two old dudes, you got a couple of old dudes!’ Fuck that! If I was still on tour, I’d be fucking bringing the show. These guys need some serious consultation!”
As far as an observer of technique goes, Gerlach is without peer. I wanted to find out whose surfing at Trestles hits him just… there.
1. Gabriel Medina
You wanna know why? Medina’s posture is really good. His arms are a little fucked up but he has this spring in his legs and he doesn’t look too predictable. He has a lot of spark in his surfing and if he cleaned up his arms a little bit, if he hired me to coach him for a couple of weeks, I’d find all these places to make his surfing look prettier and make his transitions smoother. But right now he’s so fucking good and gnarly and fun to watch. I learn from him every time. I don’t think he knows how to do a nuts frontside carve, however. He kinda slams it and he doesn’t torque it enough. I’d love to teach him that one.
2. Jordy Smith
He’s a big smooth cat. His technique is so good and his ass is really, really low. The whole magic to a good surfer is having that low centre of gravity and having a straight back. Because if your posture is really good you barely have to put weight on your toes or your heels to turn. Think of the best golfers in the world and their swing. It’s effortless because the posture is really good and the head of the club does a perfect circle. There’s very little effort but the goes 350 yards. It’s the same with posture and surfing.
3. Felipe Toledo
He’s unpredictable with a lot of board control. His posture is good but his arms are fucked up a little too. But so were mine at 18. But there’s substance coming through. His back is good and straight and he’s low to his board. He’s technically really, really good.
4. Dane Reynolds
I’d love to see Reynolds in the event. His technique is so fucking good. But what’s interesting about Dane is when he’s going down the line he looks horrible. He does so much shit with his arms. I think he does it on purpose. He has to. I think he does it to look ugly. He’s such an artist that he wants to look raw; he doesn’t want to look too polished. He has the best style in his turns. His arms are amazing, his butt is super, super low and he’s very, very powerful without being a brute. He has that hidden competitiveness and comes across as an annoying underachiever, like Rob Machado, sometimes. It’s so annoying! Why don’t you just try so we can watch you? You fucking asshole! It’s okay that you care! We won’t think you’re uncool! Dane’s a funny speech giver too. He’s a rad dude
5. Conner Coffin
Yeah, I wish Conner was in this event. Because I fucking coach him, of course, but he really fucking gouges the wave. When he connects on a turn you can… feel it. Conner’s got that thing that just gets you in the guts.
Johnny Unitas III on Kelly Slater's new label OuterKnown…
Is there ever going to be a brand, a fashion, and a style that emerges from the barren wasteland that is the surf industry? Is the surf industry eminently doomed by the regurgitated designs peddled by the Billabongs, Rip Curls, Hurleys and RVCAs of the world!?
Yes. We are all doomed. The surf industry is doomed and son of a bitch! I have to go to the NYC boys of Saturdays Surf to get a pair of aesthetically pleasing boardshorts when I don’t want to look like another faux pas douche with my four-way stretch catastrophes.
And here comes John Moore. He launched M.Nii (and he created Hollister for A & F and the label Modern Amusement) and I’m not getting into the Wikipedia page on M.Nii but their boardshorts are amazing. They are clean, simple and functional. They fade perfectly in the sun and they break in oh so well. Just like my St. Laurent dry denim jeans, they are expensive and they are perfect.
With all that said, Kelly Slater has decided to join forces with John Moore underneath the funding of the Kering Group to mastermind and launch, “Outerknown.” What in the actual fuck is that, you may ask? Well it’s, and to quote Kelly Slater:
“It’s been a long time coming and I’m proud to let you know that the clothing brand I’ve been working on has launched our ‘Handshake Website’ at Outerknown.com this morning. Our team, lead by designer John Moore and supported by our strategic partner, The Kering Group, are tirelessly working on a brand that blends the relationship between style, sustainability, and travel. I believe we have an obligation to build better products and understand the way our consumption impacts the world around us.
So… tell me Kelly, you’re ripping off Patagonia? And you’re working with the group that owns Balenciaga, MCQ, Alexander McQueen, St. Laurent, Brioni, Bottega Veneta & Gucci (among others)?
I’m going to loosely quote Anthony Bourdain here in saying, “I don’t give a shit if my tomato was local, organic, sustainably farmed, GMO free and was “artisan.” All I care about is that my tomato tastes good!”
My clothing does not need to be sustainable, if it is of the highest quality. I do not need to know how or why my purchasing or consumption of them has impacted the world as long as I look damn good. And I would bet the amount of money I owe Visa, which is a lot, that, the consumers shopping today’s fashions do not care either. Just like myself, the consumer buys, purchases and splurges on fashions, clothing and style because it’s fun and looking fabulous is important to them.
With that said, and putting you aside, Kelly & John, until I’m proven wrong, thank you Kering Group and thank you Alexander McQueen for delivering the always-stunning Kate Moss for the new Alexander McQueen campaign. I’m going to go read Maureen Callahan’s book, “Champagne Supernova,” and try to imagine that I was friends with Kate Moss as she ruled the modeling industry with week-long partying and benders that ended in Ibiza. I would have traveled and partied with her in unsustainable style. Isn’t that fashion, after all?
Who is Johnny Unitas III? Let’s steal straight from Esquire magazine: Johnny Unitas was one of the premier quarterbacks of all time. His name is synonymous with poise, all-American grit, grace under pressure, and an arm as true as it was strong. His grandson shares the very same name though maybe none of the adjectives. But goddamn it if he doesn’t know his way around a showroom. He is the fashion equivalent to, well, Johnny Unitas. And now he writes for BeachGrit!
That long suffering ASP escritoire comes clean about life underneath professional surfing's mouthpieces. And Pat Parnell.
“I used to be happy…” the Association of Surfing Professional’s wooden desk tells me on a perfectly crisp San Clemente evening. I set my daiquiri on his head as he continues. “…I used to be where I belonged, at the very, very, very, very back of Office Depot’s Garden Grove location. Doesn’t sound like much but it was home. A fake Eames chair and I had even started this little thing… Anyhow, one day a man from the ASP came in. Said his name was Hardy, Terry Hardy, and went on and on about how he was Kelly Slater’s big shot manager and how he now also owned all of professional surfing. The sales manager didn’t care. He only spoke Vietnamese.”
I nod and know this story is not going to have a happy ending.
“Hardy got me for a steal. Said that while professional surfing was a totally rad can’t miss money maker, the Association was a bit cash poor at the moment and so Mr. Nguyen gave him a discount. Before I knew it, I was boxed up and shipped to Australia. I didn’t understand what was happening. When I came to, there were weird LED lights on the floor around me, even though I was outside, and a TV monitor hanging from my chest. The ASP logo was stuck to both my arms and, when I studied it, assumed that “professional surfing” was something kindergarteners did. Have you seen it? The sun and wave look like they were designed by a five year old with no natural talent.”
I nod and push my daiquiri’s umbrella out of the way.
“Then the four men sitting at me started to talk. Whoa. Never had I heard such stilted dribble in my entire life and, remember, I was living in Garden Grove. They talked incessantly about absolutely nothing. They used the same exact phrases over and over again. They seemed to think that surfing was a real sport. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that LED lights, a TV monitor and the drawing of a gift-less child do not the NFL make.”
I nod and give an empathetic frowny face.
“After the Gold Coast, I was sent to Margret River, then Bells Beach then it became an absolute blur. They’d try to dress me up. Sometimes in wooden pallets, sometimes in a grass skirt. And look at me now. What the hell is this shit?”
I nod and don’t quite know. Maybe pier pilings with retro airplane propellers affixed?
It’s all just so strange. I mean, why am I on the beach? Why can’t the men who sit at me turn their necks even a little bit? Why are some of them so old? Why do they dress in the costumes they do? Did you see us in Tahiti? Their Hawaiian shirt mélange was so bad I tried to slide off the dock and into the water. Where is the money Terry Hardy promised?
I nod and soak in his existential dilemma.
“At this point? Someone please burn me. Just take me outside, dump gasoline in my drawers and set me on fire. I, honestly, can’t take one more second of Pat Parnell. Where did he come from? What does it mean to ‘jam it into the foam climb?’”
I nod, light a cigarette and definitely can’t answer.
