Sorry, this service is currently unavailable. Please try again later.
From the CEO of Layne Beachley to the first female boss in Rip Curl's history, Brooke Farris is setting off a COVID-inspired surfing boom, with more people (especially women) entering the water than ever before. And you can't see Chiko Roll.
Brooke Farris was sponsored by Rip Curl as a teenage star; she now runs the joint store. Image source: Cory White
Surfing requires a certain amount of strength, commitment and endurance-and this is just to put on a diving suit. When I reached the beach, I had squeezed myself into the neoprene sausage skin from neck to ankle, and was half dead. This is my first surfing lesson. Brooke Farris, the new CEO of Rip Curl, took me to the comfort corner at the southern end of Torquay Beach. The name is reassuring. There was almost no ripple in the sea below.
We started to practice some pop-up exercises on the beach. Jumping from the abdomen to the feet should be a smooth movement, but in my case, it looked more like an unartistic wombat fight. "Do you know how to do yoga?" the former Australian surfing champion Faris asked, and my heart sank. It turns out that the flash is a reverse half-wave ratio/warrior combination, executed on a wobbly surface in a flat time of one second-requiring balance, pre-pandemic health and core strength before the baby is born.
On this 15-degree spring day on the Victoria Surf Coast, the ocean may not be much rougher than the bath water, but I still scream like a toddler in every wave I deal with, only rushing halfway and quickly in the shallows. In the tilt. All my dignity was gone, and after Farris slammed the board from behind, I finally glide with my knees, arms outstretched, and victory for five seconds. It feels like a little miracle. As Farris said, happiness lies in "handling the energy of nature", whether you stand up or not, it is undeniable that it is very interesting-even for those who are more like girls than surf girls.
There is nothing cooler than female surfers, but even they can hardly break into the surf men’s club 30 years ago. The barriers have broken down, and people of all ages and beliefs are now sharing time off, especially because the pandemic blockade has attracted more Australians into the water.
Like the reading room, global surfing giant Rip Curl recently appointed the first female CEO in its 52-year history. Although it was not affirmative action by any means-Faris was a respected figure in the surfing world and an obvious choice-but it seemed to herald a new and more inclusive era.
"Elevating someone like Brook to a strong position shows that surfing is getting rid of past gender bullying and understanding the power of diversity."
The famous surf writer Nick Carroll said: “It’s hard to avoid the idea that it means a lot of things,” said the famous surf writer Nick Carroll, who won his second in 1981 National Surfing Championship-In the same year, the adolescent blues was shown in cinemas and exposed casual and stubborn misogyny in Australian surfing culture. “The sport’s willingness to promote people like Brook to powerful positions is incredibly enjoyable-it shows that surfing is getting rid of the gender bullying of the past and understanding the power of diversity.”
Ryan Beechley thinks it's time. The 49-year-old 7-time world surfing champion grew up on Manly Beach in Sydney. She was often pushed off her surfboard and splashed on her face, and she was told that she did not belong to a boy. She said the information in the surfing industry is roughly the same: too many male surfers have left the professional circuit and found jobs beyond their abilities, while capable women have been denied the same opportunities. So when Farris called Beachley to share the news of her as CEO, they all shed tears.
"This is very important," said Beechley, chairman of the Australian Surfing Association. "Considering how much female surfing has added to the surfing industry, it is so important and disappointing. This is just a reward for Brooke's commitment, professional ethics, and enthusiasm, not only for surfing, but to improve it."
Brooke Farris surfs in Fiji.
On a sunny Monday morning, a few hours before our surfing, 41-year-old Farris greeted me at the glass front door of her modern four-bedroom Jan Juc home, accompanied by her name Western (as in Australia, Farris’ hometown). Bells Beach-the birthplace of professional surfing in Australia in 1973-and Rip Curl’s Torquay headquarters are both about a 5-minute drive from the hotel. Tastefully decorated in Scandinavian style, the single CEO lives in a spacious and bright house full of black, white and wood. There is a computer on the dining table and the front deck overlooks the coastline.
The only nod to surfing I saw was a glossy red Mark Richards 5'10" vintage 1980 dual-fin surfboard, leaning against the wall of a spare bedroom-this is an unnamed 40th birthday gift. "When Mick Fanning got an MR double fin when he was 40, I knew I was a good partner." Faris said.
Farris, wearing Rip Curl jeans and a white T-shirt, sat cross-legged on the gray sofa, and Western sat on her lap until he was expelled for misbehavior. She explained that the red scar on her left ankle was caused by a broken bone in a Tasmanian mountain bike accident last year. Farris, known as Faz among her colleagues, moved to Torquay 11 years ago and joined Rip Curl, and has been working throughout the company since then, from events and marketing to digital and retail, but maybe her training was really decades ago It began, making waves with her two older brothers in Watermans Bay, Perth, where she thrived as "one of the boys".
Farris is the daughter of a teacher and a real estate agent. She separated at the age of seven. She grew up in a family that spent a weekend between Perth's beaches and sports fields. Farris has two siblings who play football and a grandfather who coaches the West Perth Australian Rules team. She suspects that if AFLW appeared in the 1990s, she might eventually join. On the contrary, at the age of 13, she entered a high school surfing competition, and when she beat all the older girls, she was very excited. "I like to win," she said, "and I'm good at something." When she was 15 years old, Rip Curl sponsored her.
Ryan Beachley (Layne Beachley, 2006 photo) set up a women's event worth $100,000. Image source: Getty Images
Faris will win two national championships, but the world championship is never the ultimate goal. "She lacks that kind of competitive bastard," Beechley said. "She is so empathetic. She likes to show the best things to others first, and then to herself." For Farris, surfing is a way to hang out with friends and see the world, but her The professional ambition is to become a sports reporter. She wrote surfing stories for "The Western Australian" as a teenager, and started an art degree at Curtin University before heading overseas to participate in the Qualifying Professional Tour.
In 1999, Faris was at the U.S. Surfing Open in Huntington Beach, California-a nervous 18-year-old girl fell at the home of a friend’s friend and professional surfer Judy Nelson-when she met the world at the time The number one Beechley, who is eight years older than her.
Nelson and Beechley went surfing in Mexico, and Farris also went with them. Because of their common love for big waves, they had an indissoluble bond with Beechley. Later, when she and Beechley lived in Hawaii, the two would do body surfing when Sunset Beach was closed because it was too dangerous. Without fins or goggles, they would let the tear drag them into the sea, and then swim across the ocean current into the impact zone of the 15-foot waves, just for the adrenaline surge. This may be courage or insanity, but Farris describes it more as a self-improvement exercise. "Follow the trend, adapt to changes, be willing to be defeated, stand up again, and continue to push-this is just an inherent characteristic of the way you do things," she said. "This is resilience and agility, and to some extent it is also tactical."
Faris (right) and the 2001 world champion Ryan Beechley (amused by their hat, which incorrectly printed the year 2002). Image Credit: Brooke Farris
In 2002, Farris moved to Sydney to become Beachley's PA, and quit competitive surfing later that year after finishing third in the national championship. For nearly six years, Faris managed the life of the world champion and helped her establish her Aim For The Stars Foundation-which provided a $1 million grant to help women realize their dreams- -And founded the Beachley Classic worth 100,000 US dollars, which is the richest women's surfing event in the world. Farris said: "Nothing can stop Layne, so what she wants to do, she will say it, and she will do it."
"Brook is essentially the CEO in my life. She used to avoid difficult things before I let her do it, but this expanded her skills."
For a 21-year-old young man, this must be daunting. "She is basically the CEO of my life," Beechley said. "Before I let her do it, she used to avoid difficult things. I know it poses a challenge for her, but it also broadens her skills, such as managing my finances. She showed great initiative. "Beachley remembers Faris working late for Classic, and she slept in a bean bag at the event. Living and working together, the two women became close friends; for example, when Beachley and current husband Kirk Pengilly first dated, Farris drove the couple to Dee Why RSL to play ten-pin bowling.
"She just became an integral part of my family," Beechley said. But in the end, the Surf Professional Association (now the World Surf League) hired Faris as its women's tour manager. On ASP, if she is not a loyal employee, she has proved that she has nothing: in the 2007 Rip Curl Pro competition in Bells Beach, when Beechley swears in a live interview, she also commented to a The player swears that Faris sent Beechley out because she threw her out of the game. An email threatened to fine her friend because she discredited the sport. "Actually, I sent her an email not long ago and said,'Do you remember this?'" Beechley said with a smile. "She is embarrassed."
Soon after the male winner of Ballito Pro Junior in 2018 received twice the prize money of the female, the prize figures were equal.
During his three years as ASP’s Women’s Tour Manager, Faris managed to increase women’s bonuses by 40%, adding momentum to the promotion of pay equality.
Farris quit his job in 2010 to join Rip Curl. In 2018, photos of the winners of Ballito Pro Junior—women holding a $4,000 check and men holding a double check—were going viral on the Internet. Soon after, Sophie Goldschmidt, the first female CEO of the World Surfing Federation, announced that starting in 2019, the bonuses for men and women will be equal.
This year's "Girls Can't Surf" documentary tells the struggle that women should take seriously as surfers.
The Australian documentary "Girls Can't Surf" released earlier this year tells the story of the difficult 40-year road to this historic announcement, which celebrates the rebellious female surfers of the 1980s and 1990s , And recorded their dispute with the sports world that refused to accept them. Among the insults they face, female surfers are often sent to races because they think the waves are too bad for men, or when these people are on a lunch break. In 1989, California's OP Pro completely abandoned the women's competition—but of course kept the bikini competition—until the decision was overturned by public outcry.
In Jane Fonda's fitness video, female athletes are also asked to wear ridiculous high-breasted swimsuits that look more like home. In an unforgettable grab from doco, Western Australian surfer Jodie Cooper talked about competition in unrealistic one-piece competitions and brutal impromptu "enemas" in the waves, such as "Bayonet stabbed me Ass". Later, when news broke that Cooper was gay, she was dumped by sponsors, and the 1990 world champion Pam Burridge apparently endured the reluctance of men for fear of being labeled a lesbian.
In contrast, male surfers are treated as rock stars, and they are not going to give up the spotlight. By the turn of the 1970s, the lucky Gidget era was over. Surfboards have become shorter and harder to ride, marking a shift in the sport.
"If you watch surfing movies from the early 1970s," Carroll said, "you will see a group of young people walking around in the waves. Oh my God, you're only 22 years old, and you have a great new type of Surfboard, you are at Sunset Beach in Hawaii, and you just feel like a god. So they all surf like this-like, "Look at me! "Surfing has become super-manly...this is the surfing culture of the 70s and 80s. This is a truly closed store."
"If you watch surfing movies in the early 1970s, you will see a group of young people dangling in the waves... Surfing becomes very manly."
In the last scene of adolescent melancholy, when Sue and Debbie are surfing in the waves with a surfboard, teenage girls are ridiculed all the way on Sydney’s Cronulla Beach and are called "lazy mice". And was told, "Little chickens can't surf". It's easy to assume that the filmmaker has the permission to create, but at the time women should really be waiting on the beach, distributing Chiko Rolls and compliments. "It was hostile, threatening, and intimidating," Beechley recalled. "[Girl] was told to sit on the beach with keys and towels, watching the men do this-and told them how great they were doing it."
As the 1981 movie "Adolescence Melancholy" revealed, surfing was once a sport that boys liked, and girls watched it. Image Credit: Alamy
According to surf writer Phil Jarratt, the sport was only used when four-time world champion Wendy Botha was naked for Playboy Australia in 1992. Pay attention to these women. In his book "Surfing in Australia: A Complete History of Surfboarding in Australia", Jarratt shares an annoying example of the published work of his time:
“I don’t remember who won the women’s championship,” he reported on Rip Curl Pro in 1983. “But I’m very happy to see the lovely young man in the judging car later. I think of Wendy Bo from South Africa. The tower and Helen Lambert of Australia are particularly cunning."
Stephen Gilmore. Credit: Getty Images
Today, with sponsors such as Roxy, Nikon, Sanitarium and DHD Surfboards, seven-time world champion Stephanie Gilmore (Stephanie Gilmore) is expected to earn more than $1.5 million in annual income, but 30 years ago, female surfers had to consider Off the beach to pay the bills. For Burridge, this means relying on the sponsorship of a car factory called Asian Wreck in the western suburbs of Sydney.
Pauline Menczer is an athlete, but can't find a sponsor because she doesn't fit the typical image of blond hair and blue eyes. During the twenty years of the professional tour, she was struggling, sometimes sleeping in her surfboard bag in a tent, buying jeans in the United States, and then whipping them in France to fund her travels. Menczer-who grew up in Bondi-suffers from severe rheumatoid arthritis, and due to rampant homophobia, she has to pretend that her girlfriend is the coach of her tour.
In 1993, after making all the sacrifices for the sport she loved, Menzel won the world championship-winning nothing but a broken trophy. Menczer's story may be the most touching in "Girls Can't Surf". When Farris and her staff watched doco, she and Rip Curl's colleague Sophie Marshall were shocked. They launched GoFundMe to call for $25,000, and Menczer (now a school bus driver near Byron Bay) should have won it. Money. (It eventually raised more than $60,000.) "When we reached our goal, Pauline sent Soph and I a picture of her crying in the car," Farris said. "It makes me think about it emotionally."
Due to lack of funds, Pauline Menczer (photo in 1988) sometimes had to sleep in her travel bag. Image source: Antonin Cermak
Now, for top Australian athletes like Gilmore, Sally Fitzgibbons and Taylor Wright, the idea that girls can’t surf is ridiculous, but it doesn’t mean that sexism is eliminated. As Beechley said, “We still have a long way to go.” For example, sponsors still seem to prefer female surfers who traditionally protect their eyes and wear a small amount of Lycra. When Pam Burridge participated in the professional circuit, she was told to lose weight to promote the sport, and she later developed anorexia. Thirty years later, she pointed out that female surfers often get the most likes on Instagram when posting teasing photos wearing tight swimsuits, which means that there is a lot of pressure to continue doing so-to convince their sponsors that they have already Reached.
This photo was taken in 1980. Pam Burridge was told to lose weight to promote surfing-and later suffered from anorexia. Image source: Russell McPhedran
"It's very tricky, but it's the real world, isn't it?" Burridge said while patrolling the Mollymook Surf Life Saving Club on the South Coast of New South Wales. "Just yesterday (in a Facebook group for female surfers), they complained about an ad for the Mick Fanning softboard brand, in which a group of girls in G-banger swimsuits advertised their surfboards. When going to the beach, All young girls with amazing figures wear Brazilian bikinis but no butts, but [the company] was called in and they actually took down the ad."
Despite its anti-system origins, the surfing world is very conservative. Two-time world champion, 27-year-old Tyler Wright, kneeled in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement after a professional game on the Tweed Coast last September, which was met with strong online opposition. Three months later, she was not discouraged and participated in the competition wearing a proud flag, which was an acknowledgment of her bisexuality. "She bears the brunt of surfing," Carroll said. "I think this mainly comes from young people who are threatened. The girls on the top of that tree now-there aren't many men who can surf like them."
Outspoken women always make enemies, but female surfers now have senior women in the industry to support them, such as Farris, Beachley and former professional Sydney surfer Jessi Miley-Dyer, who became the head of this year's WSL competition. Tyler Wright said that female mentors are important. As a surfing prodigy from Culburra Beach, New South Wales, Wright signed with Rip Curl at the age of 8, and participated in the Beachley Classic as a 14-year-old wild card, becoming the youngest surfer in history to win a tournament circuit event. Wright met Faris there, and since then began to rely on her advice. For example, it was Faris who encouraged her to stay in school. "Anytime I have a problem, I will call Brook," Wright said. "She watched me win the world championship, and she was there when I collapsed."
Tyler Wright, the prodigy of New South Wales. Image source: Getty Images
On the day Faris became chief executive officer in August, Wright lost a key enthusiasm at the Mexico Corona Open, which meant that she did not enter the top five in the world. When Faris called, she had just returned from the beach, crushed and sunburned. "I was very depressed and emotional," recalls Wright, who has struggled with chronic fatigue syndrome since the 2018 flu. "In a commercial sense, I did not perform. I did not participate in the [Rip Curl WSL Finals]. This is their event, their Super Bowl. Most of the time, when you don’t make it for your sponsor, you won’t receive it. To their news, but Brooke will say, "You did a great job this year-you are the sixth in the world. Think about all the challenges you face. She is a person who really listens and cares."
That's all for the blokey boys club. According to Luke Kennedy, editor of the surfing magazine Tracks, “The most exciting area of surfing culture—where it happens most—may be women.” He said, whether recognized or not, strong female roles It has always been part of the Australian surfing scene, since Phyllis O'Donnell won the first women's world championship in 1964, he said. The difference now is that they are in a position to shape surfing culture.
"What we are seeing now are more women in the water. Surfing is becoming a true symbol of women's independence."
One of Kennedy’s greatest influence on surfing was his mother Jenny. She was a maverick. She surfed on Maroubra Beach in Sydney in the late 1960s and was known as her chauvinistic surfer. As "John Bowers." Obviously, Jenny once participated in a surfing competition at the same time as the women's competition, and she performed so well that the judges mistook her for a competitor. When she got out of the waves, they told her she had won. "What we are seeing now are more women in the water," Kennedy said. "Surfing is becoming a true symbol of women's independence."
Pam Burridge, who runs a surf school on the south coast of New South Wales, has noticed a dramatic increase in the number of surf schools in the past five years. All the women's surfing events she will hold in 2022 have been booked for several months. Hardcore surfers still have large and heavy surf spots, but soft learning boards have opened up the sport to beginners, and social groups like surf moms have made waves more popular.
There are also many surf suits designed for women-not out of altruism, but because it has commercial significance. Rip Curl legend co-founder Brian Singer vowed to never make women's surfing equipment, but now women's products account for more than 40% of global sales. Farris talked about "empathy-oriented design" and launched a new online fit guide, in which a group of Rip Curl employees-(at this stage, all white) women of different sizes and body types-dressed A variety of bikini tops and bottoms to help customers find the best swimsuit for them.
"Women are important to me because I am one of them," said Faris, whose mother learned to surf when she was 55.
Gotcha advertisement in the 1980s.
All-encompassing and female-friendly marketing is almost the opposite of early alienated surf advertising, such as Billabong's "Only Surfers Know This Feeling" campaign. Surfing brand Gotcha also released a series of advertisements with the slogan "If you don't surf, don't start". Carol said: "It's comprehensive, like saying,'Surfing is for a very special group of people, mainly men. Don't try to walk in this door because it will hit you in the face. '"
Last weekend, Carol was surfing in his hometown of Newport Beach in Sydney and joined 40 surfers of all kinds: men and women, from children to retirees. "The door slowly opened," he said, "this is a completely different world."
Surfing was included in this year's Tokyo Olympics, and the high-tech wave pool that provides perfect rest on demand is a huge victory for the sport, but I want to know whether legitimacy comes at the expense of mystery. Luke Kennedy of Tracks said: "People have always thought that surfers are dropouts, beach bums, and drug addicts. This perception may still exist for a while." "In a sense, surfers are eager to pass events like the Olympics. To gain recognition outside of surfing culture, [but] we also want to be a part of this cool little club that no one knows about. We don’t want too many people to participate because it’s too crowded."
It’s difficult to determine the numbers, but Carol-now the Australian editor of Surfline, the surf forecasting agency-says the data show that global surfing participation has risen by 20% since the pandemic began, and more and more people have moved to Coastal areas and seek a safe campaign against COVID. According to data from ActionWatch, which collects data on the surfing retail industry, due to the pandemic of new surfers and the government, sales of surfboards in the seven to nine-foot category in Australia in May 2020 increased by 3665% compared to the previous year to support payment. In the following month, the year-on-year growth was still an impressive 116%. For Rip Curl, which specializes in technology products such as surfboards and wetsuits but also sells swimwear, clothing and watches, its sales for the 2020-21 fiscal year increased by 10.5% despite the closure of stores.
For the surfing industry that has gone through a turbulent decade, this is a prosperous period and an extraordinary change, especially for the three local brands: Rip Curl, Billabong and Quiksilver. Rip Curl started when two Torquay surfers Doug "Claw" Warbrick and Brian "Sing Ding" Singer started making surfboards from the garage in 1969. They recruited another local, Alan Green, to make diving suits, but soon "Greeny" left and launched their own surfing brand Quiksilver with John Law. On the Gold Coast, Gordon Merchant started making his triple stitch Billabong surfboard shorts in 1973, and the final surfing trinity was born.
These brands have grown into global giants, and by the mid-2000s, they seemed to have made no mistakes—in 2007, market leader Quiksilver reported a turnover of 2.4 billion U.S. dollars—but then there was a global financial crisis and consumer tastes changed. , And the surf wear industry plummeted. In 2013, Billabong announced a loss of US$860 million. Quiksilver filed for bankruptcy in 2015 and was later rescued by American private equity giant Oaktree Capital Management, which acquired the troubled Billabong in 2018. Both brands are now owned by Oaktree Capital’s investment portfolio company Boardriders.
Rip Curl successfully escaped the financial carnage of its competitors, mainly because it insisted on its surfing roots and focused more on diving suits and surfboards. Its sales also shrank in the 2010s, but when beach style gave way to sports and leisure and surfing brands faced competition from cheaper fashion alternatives such as Zara and H&M, it was not that vulnerable. Rip Curl is also not listed on the stock exchange, but bought like Quiksilver and Billabong. "The listing seems to be the head of a large surfing company," Carroll said. "With so much money hanging around, they just lost the conspiracy."
However, in addition, there is a feeling that international brands have been sold out. They downplayed their brand by marketing to the masses, selling their gear to non-surfers in shopping malls thousands of kilometers from the coast. Despite their laid-back, counter-culture roots, big brands have completely turned into companies and are not popular among surfers. "The greater their number and scope, the more mainstream they are, and the less attractive they are to core audiences," said Brian Walker, CEO of Retail Doctor Group and director of the Surfing and Surfboarding Industry Association. "If I could buy Quiksilver T-shirts at Target, that would not be ideal." Once the scarcity value disappears, smaller independent labels from the surfing community will fill the gap.
It is difficult to walk this line between profitability and credibility, which is why sponsoring top surfers and competitions is crucial. Carroll said that big brands have learned their lesson: "For many surfing companies today, the key is to keep a low profile and only make good products," he said. "Quiksilver and Billabong are still good; they just don't make $2.5 billion a year anymore. They make a lot less, and they don't boast."
Farris heads to Torquay to surf. Image source: Cory White
As for Rip Curl, it was not all smooth sailing: In 2016, it was revealed that the company used slave-like working conditions in a North Korean factory to produce clothes labeled "Made in China". Rip Curl apologized and accused the supplier of transferring some production orders to unauthorized subcontractors. Two years ago, New Zealand outdoor retailer Kathmandu acquired Rip Curl for US$350 million, making it the last iconic Australian surfing brand to become a foreign investment.
"I have never seen anyone coming out of the water and saying,'Oh, I wish I didn't go surfing.' You always feel better."
For Farris, the challenge will be to maintain the mystery of surfing while making it more accessible, welcoming newcomers, and possibly even creating a fresh surfing culture in the process. This is a tricky balancing act. "You still want to be cool enough to recruit the next generation, but I think that by approaching it from an inclusive place, people will be attracted to it," she said. "I would rather see more people trying to surf because... I have never seen anyone coming out of the water and saying,'Oh, I hope I didn't go surfing.' You always feel better. "
I can promise. After surfing lessons with Farris, I struggled to take off my wetsuit in the toilet and walked back to the beach parking lot. Three friendly middle-aged men changed clothes next to the four-wheel drive vehicle, took off their wet clothes and pulled down their towels. In the past five years, there is no doubt that they have done it countless times in the past five years. As the men laughed together, their white hair and soft belly seemed to disappear, and I caught a glimpse of their younger, cooler, and more carefree selves. After a period of training in the icy Torquay surfing, these people are still very excited, looking very excited-suddenly, the surfing becomes meaningful.
To read more about Good Weekend magazine, please visit our pages in the Sydney Morning Herald, Time and Brisbane Times.
The best good weekend news is sent to your inbox every Saturday morning. Register here.