The Surf Shop

Days pass, swells come and go, new products emerge with new words attached. We love it. Spread techno-butter on your toast and drink some Laird Fuel because backing the surf industry makes you a core surfer. We here at Surf Only believe in buying from our local surf shops. The ones with chicks plastered all over the bathroom walls and George Bush’s face smirking from the toilet bowl. This is our culture as surfers, our perpetual youth. Because if you grew up here you grew up behind the scenes of the industry. Money came in the form of hearing about secret pointbreaks in Mexico. It came in the form of Ozzie Wright drawing Bunny Girl on your old white tee while listening to Bruce Irons say the word “Fuck.” Things happen in the surf shop that would never happen anywhere else. It’s our church. Where we go for mental health checkups. But something is happening right now. Retail is taking a hit from the direct-to-consumer business model that has Amazon send drones out with shit you don’t need. The surf shop is the place we have always gone to stare at the product, to feel it, to smell the rubber and put the deck pad under our feet to feel out the perfect arch-bar height. The experience cannot be replaced. We need it as a whole. So next time you need something, probably something we put our Surf Only stamp of approval on, call your local shop and see if they have it in stock. That bro discount should get you twenty percent off.