Branding

I allowed the fluorescent and day-glo colors of the eighties, for the most part, pass me by. The closest I came were a couple loud pairs of chucks (Chuck Taylor shoes). One pair was a turquoise-like blue while the other was purple, bordering on lavender. I would wear one blue and one purple shoe, an act one of my grandfathers couldn’t comprehend.

By now I was used to being an outcast at school, but acceptance within the family had always been a given. I was aware that they didn’t necessarily like the way I dressed, but I always felt that, at the end of it all, they knew the me that was hiding underneath this new style.

Suddenly, after some questioning that felt like an interrogation, I knew I was becoming separated from them as well. Teenage angst coupled with the fact that I didn’t see many of my relatives very often left us, quite often, speechless with one another.

I felt like I was expressing myself through my clothing. I was dressing how I felt.

The greatest oxymoron of punk rock was that you had to, in some respect, wear the punk rock uniform. The same could be said of skateboarding. Even the five guys that made up our local scene found ourselves identifying with certain companies and ‘branding’ ourselves to match them.

Generally, it started with the type of board you rode (or wanted to ride). Each brand had its standard type of graphic to identify with. All of them had their fair share of skulls and colorful monsters, but each company had a certain, individual flair.

Powell Peralta graphics tended to be punk yet professional with a child-like innocence. How is that possible? The graphics on a skull and sword deck was something my mother would like despite the skull and sword. On the other hand, Dogtown skateboards, with their connection to punk/metal crossover band Suicidal Tendancies, looked mean, almost demonic. Their possessed to skate deck was a mother’s nightmare.

Then there was Skull Skates. Skull decks were always black and white. They didn’t even contain grayscale. It was as if they were made by stencils and spray paint. I immediately identified with Skull skates. This was the epitome of punk rock and skateboarding combined.

Marketing. Every style niche in skateboarding comes down to marketing. At one point in the eighties every board had essentially the same shape. The standard deck had a short, rounded nose that rolled into a ten inch wide main space. Every deck had approximately seven inches of tail. Sure, there were different levels of concave and every company used wood from a different source, but overall the differences in decks were very minimal except for the graphics and, of course, the pros that the graphics symbolized. Of course, the common skater didn’t have to be aligned with one single company, but generally the companies one chose were within the same spectrum. At the end of the day we are all consumer victims of marketing.