There are a thousand and one "when I moved here..." stories involving some tale of late night lawlessness, creative freedom and the overwhelming abundance of Salsa music. There is always a sort of wistful look in the eye as the teller regales his or her listener with the opportunities the good 'ol days provided. I indulge in it sometimes myself. When a friend visits for the first time and inevitably comments on the hustle and bustle in this capital of young hip urbanity, I never fail to let them know it wasn't always so. That it used to be better. I talk about crack pipes and prostitutes and Cokies and how in my first week living here some poor girl got mugged at gunpoint in my building. I tell them about the Stinger Club and how Diner was the only place to eat on the Southside. I tell them about parties in abandoned buildings, artists and musicians and dogs and cats living together, the beer flowing like wine. And they look at me in wonder and regret that they too couldn't have been a part of such a culturally loose blip. Then one of my friends walks over and asks "hey, when did you move here?" and proceeds to tell my once-captive audience how they got here five years before that, and that was when it was really good... blah blah blah.
As far as I can tell, I am living in my own personal golden age. Granted, I feel like I've been living in my own personal golden age since I was 18. But really, now, this has got to be it, right? We're all still here, we're bringing our kids up together, we are surviving together and we have this weird little corner of a community. Pilgrim fits right into this narrative. Once the little surf shop that could, called Mollusk BK, it is now the medium sized surf shop that hopes, called Pilgrim Surf + Supply. And it is a mom and pop store in all the best ways. Pretty soon a little coffee shop will start up next door, opening in the wee surfy hours to give all us early risers that extra morning lift. Pretty soon they'll figure out where to project the surf films. Pretty soon my son will have his after school hangout.
Rad. The beer continues to flow like wine.
More here and here.
9 comments:
cokies & stinger. replaced by condos & tour busses from jerz. i went to the closing party at kcdc. sad.
oh well, it's always the golden age. each day above ground is better than one not.
glad the neighborhood is cleaned up now that i have kids, glad it wasn't when i was in my 20s. selfish, yes.
the store looks killer-to remain in the neighborhood, we now have to work that much harder to afford the mortgage, rent,food, water bill, heat, electric and the asking merchandise prices of the neighborhood stores next thing you know, theres a new surf shop in east new york called Homeless.
Yeah, the energy is there. The energy to survive and flourish and all that. Thanks for the service.
~ Werd sun.
Those crazy hipsters, searching for something, some where, some time... all the while it's every where and in every moment... which we're all co-creating constantly.
I feel ya'll though, nostalgic... cause I'm from 'here'. And love the change... the constant swirl of 'it' spots. That is and has always been NYC.
PS. The waves are in jersey though.
PPS. Just kidding, love all of you crazy bk surfers. Super sick boards, and surf knowledge... too smart if anything.
New shop looks great -- nice light, lots of room to display the goods. Hope you're keeping the San Diego shaper-artist thing going too (I need a new, old-style fish).
Re: old Billburg, isn't your new location where those two old guys had the motorcycle shop?
I was going to open a shop in Flatbush and call it Halfway house...
It is indeed the old motorcycle shop.
I will shop at Pilgrim because they have great stuff and unlike Mollusk, which employed a couple of real jackasses, the guys I met at Pilgrim are all pretty cool.
Good to see! He took great care of me years ago at the Mollusk shop, I can't wait to see the new place, hopefully in a few weeks.
Cheers & tahnks for the good bloggin'!
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