The Story of blood

Surfing was exploding in popularity, yet just a handful of the 8 million New York City dwellers were aware that less than 10 miles away from their pavement pounding feet, nature had bestowed them with Surf.

Wanting to stay in the city, I needed to find something to do. Three friends and I were trying to find ways to fuse surf into our city life. Surf became an escapist luxury from the urban confine, a physical conditioning mindful act, where utility was always key for successful expeditions. Strong grew the bond, lifestyle percolated into aesthetics, symbolisms and an obsession with functionality borne from elements of our experience. Some of it visual, some spiritual, experiential some real and some intangible. All essential, all with meaning, order, purpose. The spice expands consciences.

And so, on Crosby Street blood was born.

A 10 square meter, urban surf experimental laboratory and utility store. In the heart of Soho. People came to share the Aloha of surfing and became a guild. I worked, I slept, I lived there. We shared the joy of surfing with style and grace. We took off with a bang. Burned like a skyrocket. Until the lease ran out, the shop disbanded, blood went dark.

Today in Paris, the spirit of blood is alive again. Rekindled, by kindred spirits. Our fish symbol, deeply spiritual, really represents the surfboard. Surfing is our religion after all.
 
blood is the tools of surfing, the streetwear, the people, the stoke, the boards, the sunglasses, all of it. The feeling. The being. The using.
 
blood is our creed, a place to come together as a surf family.

Welcome (back) blood,

Jonny