Surf is Where You Find it
Of all the tribes and subcultures to leave their mark on the sprawling landscape of menswear, few can claim the effortless cool and enduring assurance of surf culture. Laidback, sun-bleached, and salt-bitten, it’s a vibe that speaks to freedom, resilience, and the art of not trying too hard. From the trusty boardshort to the Hawaiian shirt blooming with tropical exuberance, the spirit of surf has been quietly carving its influence into men’s fashion for decades – never rushed, always right on time.
There’s a certain nonchalance to surf culture that’s hard to fake. A lifestyle shaped by saltwater and sun, yes – but also by a mindset. Sculpted by the rhythmic push and pull of the ocean, the relentless kiss of the sun, and a laid-back essence that is allergic to trying too hard. The clothes that emerged from this world weren’t dreamt up in sterile boardrooms or dictated by some trend forecaster. They were born in the back of battered old Kombis, on the sun-baked asphalt of point break car parks. What you wore had to be practical, tough enough to handle epic wipeouts, and look halfway decent even if you couldn’t care less if it did. These weren’t just garments that spoke of sandy shores, but of a whole way of cruising through life.
No need to try too hard in the Kerrin.co Like with so much good design, it started with a genuine need. Surfers required gear that could stand up to the relentless assault of salt, the scorching sun, and gnarly moves. California’s OG boardshorts, like those stitched by the legendary Katins back in the 1950s, were fashioned from canvas originally intended for boat covers – a no-nonsense, water-resistant choice for when the surf got heavy. Rashguards followed, prioritising function over any fleeting fashion, built to shield skin from both the sun’s fiery gaze and the unforgiving rub of surfboard wax. Each piece earned its place through pure performance before style even bothered to catch up.
Early surfwear was less about making a statement and more about sheer necessity. Boardshorts were cut loose and easy for maximum shredding potential, crafted from sturdy canvas, and secured with drawcords that wouldn’t dare betray you mid-barrel. Rashies were born from the same practical DNA – lightweight armour against the sun and the dreaded chafe. None of it was precious or fussy. But over time, that very “couldn’t care less” attitude became the whole point; the essence of cool.
By the swinging sixties, surf culture had busted out of its coastal confines and gone global. Hollywood splashed it with a bit of celluloid gloss, music gave it a beat, and suddenly, clothing brands were scrambling to bottle that sun-soaked, carefree vibe. The result? An explosion of vibrant colours and undeniable charisma. The aloha shirt, once relegated to tourist shops, found new life in the hands of cultural icons, becoming a symbol of alluring cool. The Baja hoodie, breezy and just a little bit rebellious, became a campus staple. This wasn’t just fashion awkwardly mimicking surf; it was surf fundamentally shaping the cultural mood.
Heading to the beach in style with the ultimate accessory
On surfari with the bare essentials
Decade after decade, the surf aesthetic kept evolving. The wild eighties brought neon defiance, oversized graphics, and shorts so baggy they could double as sails. The nineties then stripped things back to a kind of sandy minimalism, all raw hems and washed-out tones. But the consistent thread remained: surf style never screamed for attention; it just easily and inevitably flowed, like a perfectly formed wave. Even in its loudest, most fluoro-drenched moments, there’s always been something inherently unforced about it – the natural way of life that can’t be staged or choreographed. As the legendary “Mr Pipeline” Gerry Lopez put it, sometimes, surf is where you find it. And so it is with style.
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