I can dig this. ->
When Supreme opened in '94, New York had a style of skating like no other.It wasn't your ordinary dudefest. Matter of fact, it was no dudes allowed.These skaters were your train-hopping, taxicab-jumping, runaway kids-born and raisedi nthe city.Kids from every borough and background bombed down hills, crossed bridgesand ferries to session the urban paradise. All these travelers and streetathletes met each other at the Downtown famous skate spots. Everybodywould be checking each other out, snaking each other on lines for skate spots.Some beefed, some fought, but all had a common bond- they were NY skatesurvivors. The best of the best of these broughs became friends and joinedforces to create an all-star crew of bad boys: the ultimate gang. This gangwas called Supreme. Even though the shop was James' baby business atthe time, it also housed his army with authentic style, who adoped the brand andhelped create its identity. Supreme didn't just cater to the NY street skater, itwas and continues to be the last social club standing in Little Italy.While kids my age were in high school, I was dropped out and graduated froma skate shop. I was lucky at the time because it was kind of a shut-door policyand I was younger than most of them. But I got the green light; I slid in. Itwasn't easy in the beginning, even if you worked for the company it didn'tmean you were accepted automatically. There used to be a lamppost outsideacross the street. One thing a member had to do was get a pair of sneakersup there. It meant you were up in the sky and untouchable.Supreme was so epic and major: race wasn't an issue, money wasn't an issue,we were all one color and that color was character. Some of us worked at theshop, some of us hung at the shop, and some of us lived at the shop. Storiesand tricks and styles passed on from one to another. The lingo was comingfrom so many different places in the city you couldn't tell where a person wasfrom. We all traded slang and jokes to create a language of our own. I stillspeak fucked-up from those days.This social club wasn't so inviting, though, and had a lot of attitude. We madethe rules and ran a business that was very successful. People were addictedto the clothes like a drug. Wed didn't want to work too hard so we developeda sales style that worked in our favor. In the early days it was like, comein, don't touch; you can look with your eyes but not with your hands. It wasa crazy way to sell garments but the customer learned the deal: don't fuckwith us and we won't fuck with you. The T-shirts were folded so tightly itwas like at and if a customer touched the display the staff barked at the,fuck you. All the while the skate team and crew just hanging- pretty heavyfor an outsider.We really created a fucked-up shopping experience, but some people liked theabuse because they would come back for it every day. Long days at the shop, andnights were even longer. Lafayette was our home: we skated in crowds, playedsoccer in traffic, and whiffle-ball games in Jersey Alley. We never left the block.This is a piece of history of my life but the legacy still moves forward. Ina time of fast-lived fame and not-so-original styles, Supreme still representsthe core city dweller. As brands and shops rise and fall, and as thecityscape changes daily, Supreme remains the living, bearthing home of authentic New York.