We were arrested. Spit on by skiers riding the chairlift. We would hike for miles to get one run. Our parents didn’t understand. People didn’t understand. There were no contests. No magazines. No life tickets. No highbacks. There was no such thing as fashion. Every year we burned our boards in a giant bonfire as a sacrifice for better snow.

We said we’d ride forever. We said we’d make clothes that ride forever. We do.