Laughing, gasping, grunting boys! Tell me it won't
sell!
I was watching the WSL Dawn Patrol show today,
thoroughly enjoying the sloppy onshore backdrop and attempts to
convince viewers that the second round of the women’s event was
held in anything other than weak garbage, when the new Quik ad
appeared on screen.
Featuring a young boy getting a hack job tattoo on his hairy
leg, and pimping boardshorts which are, apparently, not meant to be
used in the ocean, it conveyed beautifully the idea that you don’t
need to be a surfer in order to look like one.
Unfortunately, outside of that one exceptional piece of web
marketing, the majority of adverts aimed at the audience fall far
short of accomplishing the capitalist goal of an ever-increasing
market share.
Maybe it’s a result of decades of complacency created by more or
less owning a captive market, but the world of surf marketing seems
caught in perpetual loop of rehashed themes and uninspired
campaigns. In its current form it’s like getting a rimjob in a
public toilet from some dude you just met. It’s not, you know,
terrible, and it gets the job done, but it’s not exactly something
to brag about. And you definitely won’t win any awards for it.
Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing huge airs and watching the
girls’ caramel haunches flex through a bottom turn as much as the
next guy, but you’ve gotta admit that focusing solely on the
hetero-types leaves a huge potential market untapped.
Picture this:
A pristine white sand beach, deserted but for Kolohe and John
John. Slim supple bodies glistening with cocoa butter, sweat
beading on their chests and trickling down towards the waist of
their low-slung board shorts. The surf is flat, but they don’t
care. Their hearts are filled to bursting with unbridled joie
de vivre. They exist in a pure moment, filled with
a hedonistic disregard for the mundane, unbridled by life’s
distractions.
Kolohe leans over and playfully pokes John John in the ribs.
With a giggle born of innocence John John returns the gesture, his
hand lingering just a little longer than necessary. They lock eyes
and come together.
Laughing, gasping and grunting they begin to roll across the
beach, arms and legs tangled. They wrestle with abandon, two young
men in their prime delighting in their strength and
flexibility. Kolohe pins JJ for a moment. John John is on his
back, Kolohe straddling his hips, shoulders down, back arched. John
John reverses, grabbing Kolohe’s wrists and pinning them to the
ground. He presses down with all his strength, we see his back
muscles ripple, proud firm buttocks pointed skyward, only a thin
layer of nylon denying the viewer a glimpse of his pink,
blond-fringed, asshole.
They lock eyes again, chests heaving, moist lips slightly
parted. There’s a meaning behind the gaze, but is it merely the joy
of two competitors testing their strength against each other, or
does it spring from something deeper, something more sexual?
Smash cut:
Hurley Boardshorts: Guaranteed to stay on, but so fun to
take off.
