If you find yourself walking down Crosby Street, down what is quite possibly the quietest block in Soho, you might see a lot of surfboards and seemingly beach-bound dudes. This is no hallucination. For the past year--exactly one year to be precise--Saturdays Surf NYC has served as the de facto capital of New York City’s surprisingly diverse surf scene. On any given day, you can find Josh, Colin, or Morgan, fresh from a morning surf at Rockaway, hanging out, making espresso, or showing off the latest goods from their eponymous line. Except for this weekend.
We stole them, along with a couple hundred of their very best friends, and hosted Saturdays’ very first anniversary. There were boogie boards careening off diving boards, fresh coconuts spiked with our very own blend, a Beetlejuice-inspired conga line, and a whole host of New York legends (Ricky Powell anyone?) sharing tales about the good old days. All to the legendary sounds of Chances with Wolves. Saturdays in house photographer Colin Tunstall was there to capture it all from day to night with his signature style and aesthetic. Hang ten, kooks.
