"The brotherhood is united," says Nathan
Florence.
The migration of surfers from heritage surfing companies
and into surfer-owned start-ups continues at hot pace with news,
today, that Ivan Florence has quit Vans to join Nathan at
John John’s eponymous brand Florence Marine X.
Launched in 2020, the $12 million startup Florence Marine X, but
now called Florence, was born out of John John’s departure from
Hurley and his vision to create quality surf gear,
including the now-famous male chador, inspired by his
connection with the ocean.
Surf fans are aware of
the collapse of the surf industry, Billabong, Quiksilver, RVCA,
Hurley, all bought at firesale prices by fuck-and-dump
behemoths.
Chas Smith has described Florence as the saviour of the surf
industry.
“Florence Marine X
is a core surf brand, making quality surf products for you, the
surfer. Florence Marine X has what it takes to recreate the surf
industry. John John Florence is the saviour of the surf industry.
And maybe one less reasons to hate surfing.”
And, when surfer of the year Nathan Florence dumped Vans for
Florence two months back, Nathan delivered a long, but stirring,
soliloquy on his wildly popular vlog about his decision to leave
the troubled shoe brand and shift into an equity deal with
Florence.
He also spoke about whether or not Ivan Florence, whom he calls
Mr Cool, would be joining.
“What’s Ivan going to do?” says Nathan Florence. “Mr Cool has
always done what Mr Cool wants. It looks like he’s stay with Vans,
surf, skate, snow, Ivan’s a true bad-to-the-bone surf snow skate
athlete. He makes his own decisions. We’d never pressure him, hey,
Mr Cool, what do you want to do? We’re a family, we’re here for
him.”
Nathan Florence added, “Who knows what happens down the
line…obviously we’d love to have him.”
Ivan Florence, who turned twenty-eight in May, has emerged from
the shadow of his overachieving oldest brother and Prince
Harry-lookalike middle bro in the past couple of Hawaiian seasons,
proving magnetic in the water as well as the skate
park.
The trio’s story from beachside poverty to a position
where they can buy vast beachfront
compounds is a good one.
A while back, a long while back, I spent an afternoon with Alex
to find out how the pack went from here to there.
We pick up the story just before the turn of the century.
Three little boys. Ain’t a
lot of cash in the house they rented at Rocky Point. Dad soon
disappeared into the penal system.
Alex remembers driving in her ancient Valiant, the ex-husband gone,
John, five, Nathan, three, Ivan, a baby at one-and-a-half, looking
over at her little boys and saying: “What do you guys want to do?
We don’t have to do anything or be anywhere? We can stay out til
10:30! We can go to thrift stores!”
Alex took her kids
everywhere and despite what y’might call a massive hand break, felt
this sudden freedom. A total freedom. She took them everywhere. And
that summer after the Dad split Alex packed up the house and with
her three little ducklings that followed her everywhere, flew to
Bingin in Bali where she knew a local family who’d let ’em stay in
their warung, cheap.
Sure, she didn’t have much
money, but here they were living on 10 dollars a day, and they
stretched out their resources ($1200) for a sublime four months.
Little Ivan, who was just over two then, had broken his leg on the
trampoline before they’d split but
Alex was cool, she just
carried her kid everywhere.
Back on the Shore, Herbie
Fletcher, a pioneer of jetskis in the surf, was towing John John
into bombs when he was seven. Here they were, back at Rocky Point,
just one house back from the sand, funded by taking in up to 10
boarders at a time, squeezing ’em into three bedrooms. Alex’d let
floorspace for $250 a month. Whatever it took.
They built a half-pipe in
the yard. Magazines British Vogue, US Vogue and Elle couldn’t help
themselves when they heard about this gorgeous solo surf mom and
her shaggy haired boys. Alex felt like she had a guardian angel. No
money, but she was on the beach, was feeding her three boys and,
well, you tell me that this ain’t the life.
Meanwhile, Alex was studying
for her degree in English literature at the University of Honolulu.
And, this is where it gets real good. Alex says that if you saw the
size of her student loans, which she’s only just paid off, you’d
think she was the “gnarliest surgeon ever.”
But, her gig was using her
loans to support the family, to raise the kids. She didn’t want to
leave her kids with just anybody. So she went to school at nights
and took in boarders. Yeah, sometimes dinner was corn flakes, but
the kids were playing outside in the sun and were getting pushed
(or towed) into waves by a role call of surfing icons including
Nathan Fletcher, Danny Fuller, Kala and Kamalei Alexander, Herbie
Fletcher and Pete Johnson.
Jamie O’Brien, too, but he
was always a little crazy and’d sometimes throw dog shit at the
kids. But, he also got John into contests and pushed into waves
during his first-ever heat, aged four.
And, it wasn’t all surf.
Nathan, a smart kid, would gobble up whatever lit books Alex threw
at him, from Bukowski to Tom Wolfe. He’d mow through a
thousand-page volume in one day.
Still, these were, are,
ballsy little kids. Alex has lost count of how many times she’s
thrown a bleeding kid in the car and hot-dogged it to emergency.
John’s broken “almost everything”, his neck, his back, legs,
wrists, arms, ankles. Ivan earned 55 stitches in his face (rogue
fin) after he paddled into a 25-footer that would later be
nominated for the Billabong XXL wave of the year.
Eventually, they were
squeezed out of the house by a sale, an owner moving back, whatever
it was, Alex can’t remember.
So Alex and John John, now 10 but mature beyond his years, ’cause
he’s seen some shit out there on the Shore and he knows what it’s
like to live on nothing, were walking down the street that runs
parallel to the beach and talking about the situation, saying stuff
like, “Oh man, what are we going to do now?”
And, as they’re walking,
there’s this little beach house, just on the corner of where they
live now, and Alex, being Alex, sees this car in the driveway,
looks at John, who nods, and they walk right up to the owner, their
brown faces break into gazillion watt smiles, and they say, “How
about it?”
And, suddenly, they’re at
Pipe.
And, here, you might say, we
are.