Don’t even pretend to kid yourself. You’ve seen them, you’ve let your mind drift off in the dreamy sepia tones. And before you could even stop yourself, down the local bottle’o you are with a box of Corona on the counter! BOOM sucker punched by our generation’s best piece of advertising.
I’ve never been to Mexico but I’d love to. I’d love to be that skinny, tanned and toned guy in the billboard with designer stubble and a straw hat knocking back an ice cold Corona whilst equally gorgeous women hover around the periphery performing 1970’s gender roles. All the approved props of the bohemian surf lyfe-style expertly scattered around the scene. The old school push bike, the guitar, the twin fins and the unbuttoned floral shirt. Man wouldn’t that be nice.
If you were an old time Mexican surf traveller, you’d be spewing! Knowing that with every billboard erected, every carton sold and every media inspired surf dream mounted, that your paradise was going down the drain. You’d be spewing unless you were here in the Dominican Republic sucking down on ice cold El Presidentes and wondering where all the other Gringo’s are.