Ah. The good old surf shop. Tucked away somewhere on your nearest beachfront, or between the Wimpy and Pep in your nearest mall, or between a condemned crackhouse and a cult temple in your nearest CBD. Not much can compare to entering a surf shop. Its sights, its sounds – its smells. The alluring scent of surf wax, the smell of fresh, unused neoprene, the clean scent of cotton t shirts and synthetic boardshorts manufactured so well in Asian sweatshops. The rancid, mouldy, slightly pee-ish whiff of the in-house wetsuits used for surf lessons by hordes of frothing beginners.
Trident is old school folks. A lot can be said for buying online, but nothing compares to the interpersonal relationships one builds up with dealing with surf shop employees and owners. You learn more from them than by selecting an item and clicking “Add to Basket.” The knowledge of surf shop employees can be invaluable. Pure, biltong-fed, Atlantic and Indian ocean local knowledge.
That being said, Trident has also experienced the kind of surf shop employee that knows about as much about surfing as they do quantum mechanics. That is to say, precisely sweet Fanny Addams. Equally as odd, is the employee that is all talk, and when you see finally see them in the lineup, they’re cowering in fear away from the 3 foot peak.
The employees.
However, in Trident’s experience – most surf shop workers fall into two main categories – either grizzled, glaring veterans of the ocean, all salt encrusted hair and slow, drawling monosyllabic conversation. Then there’s the enthusiastic, cheeky young upstart. These frothing young pups are mostly there to score waves as often as possible. Also, there is no doubt an enviable employee 10% discount on all products apart from boards, wetsuits and boardshorts, as well as on selected wax.
Regardless of the kind of person that works there, if you’re a local or a regular – you’ll soon end of with some level of respect from them. Hopefully this translates into respect in the lineup as well. Perhaps grudgingly given, but hey. Surf shop employees are paid to try be polite, so let them try call us a kook or a middle aged has-been, whose glory days are staring back firmly in the rear view mirror. We’ll just move on to another shop, so there.
The customers.
Perhaps you’re not really a surfer. If so, maybe you’ve occasionally found yourself in a surf shop by accident, looking to buy designer speedos to show off the physique you’ve klapped gym all year long to show off in with beach season imminent. (Here’s a tip – if a surf shop stocks speedos, they’re not a surf shop at all but some horrible aberration. Shudder.)
Maybe you’re not a surfer, but your partner is. Perhaps said partner is well known and well liked by staff, and you’re there to buy them a gift. (Another tip: regardless of the size of the present, surfers will always be thrilled with presents. Non-surfing readers, go out NOW and buy something for the surfer in your life from the local surf shop.)
Trident has often been in a surf shop, where some random oke walks in. Invariably, they look about as much like a surfer as Ronald Mac Donald resembles the Pope. Anyhow, their expression suddenly contorts into a mixture of being intimidated and defiant, as they realise they’re far too outrageously uncool to be there at all. Often they’ll try save face by saying something inane like, “Do you sell swimming goggles?” or “Lekker by die see ne?!” Sheesh. You don’t see us surfers trying to infiltrate their donuts spinning parking lot gangs do you.
The online experience.
Ja, you’re not gonna have experiences like this online, will you? Online surf shopping is but a pale, poser imitation, sometimes rendered necessary by lack of product at your friendly neighbourhood surf store. Damn that local lack of R 10 000.00 super eco-friendly wetsuits made from recycled clouds and sown together with wheatgrass and the mucus from octopus tentacles.
Anyhow, how is internet surf shopping any superior if you really think about it? Apart from the odd e-mail requesting your assistance with transferring inheritance funds to the sum of 21 million Dollars (US), if you help Lord Bennett from England. Who seems to have a suspiciously poor grasp of his own first language.
