Old School (____)’s
The first time I laid eyes on a pair of Rod Lavers was in the Black Moon video for How Many MC’s. A shot at the end of the video showed Buckshot walking down a staircase with one of his pant legs rolled up and, there, on clear display, was the pair of shoes that would solidify my loyalty to Adidas forever. A crisp pair of Rod Lavers look fresh, no doubt. But, like most of my favourite pieces of gear, they look even better with wear and tear. The white mesh that makes up most of the shoe gets nice and creased up, the suede around the toe cap get s few scuffs and starts to develop real character. Then, those green accents get a little darker, matching the hue of the rest of the sneaker and you can finally say, “That was worth it!”
Rod Laver was a massive sports figure in his day. With records and titles that saw him as the number one ranked player in the world, his style was fast and precise. Australian by birth, Laver was a living legend and his accolades are too many to name in this article. A long standing rivalry with fellow countrymen Ken Rosewell, was the stuff of sports lore. My seventh grade teacher, Mr. Reeves, was not only an Aussie, but also a fantastic tennis player and a man who wore his Stan Smiths until they were bursting at the seams. I learned a lot from him and his love of Adidas spurred me to find my appreciation for the shoe company who was endorsing superstars long before anyone else.
Over the years I have owned about half a dozen pairs of Rod Lavers and each of them had their own story to tell. Some of them I bought in Cali, some of them while on tour, others still while on trips abroad, but one constant remains, I first saw them as a young man, being rocked by one of Brooklyn’s finest emcess and, the image is engrained in my mind forever. If you take care of your Rod Lavers, they will make you feel like the champion whose name they bare, and that is a true Grand Slam!
Written by: Neph.
There’s something really dope about rocking a watch from the 80’s, that still makes you feel futuristic. None of the gadgets are really relevant, and by todays standards, there’s definitely nothing ergonomic about this watch. But the Casio Databank 610 Series still manages to turn heads and receive praise from not only the fashion-inclined younger crowd, technology-impaired older crowd, but also all the people who received a free one in their cereal as a youngster.
In my honest opinion its timeless. It’s ‘Back to the Future’ Delorean cool. About a year ago, I was fortunate enough to receive a special edition Casio x In4mation databank watch in silver; in which only 20 were made, along with only 10 in gold. It will always be one of my most prized possessions, not only because of who gifted it to me, but also because of the fact that it’s off the Richter scale of awesome. The moment I put it on, I felt smarter…well…I didn’t, but I felt like I should’ve. It actually looks like a mini laptop on your wrist, and comes with ALMOST all of the features a Macbook Pro would come with. It has a calculator function, memo, phonebook entry, calendar, alarm, stop watch, and of course even tells the time! Okay, so maybe not quite almost all of the functions of a Macbook Pro, but for a watch it will do everything you need it to, and even some things you don’t.
Sarcasm aside, Casio has been picking up on the recent demand for their Databank series, and like any good business, they’re coming through on supply. Along with re-issuing the classic silver and gold colorways, they’re also re-releasing the more ‘recent’ black Databanks with the poly-urethane bands. Depending on which model your trying to scoop up, and where you are in the world, you can delve into the realm of Databank for less than $60; and unless your looking for the limited releases, you’ll top out somewhere around $130. Not budget breaking by any means, which in todays world is a rarity…and also means you may be able to compete with Captain Jean-Luc Picard for the most futuristic time piece.
Written by: Nate Sabine
La Dolce Anita
It’s a blessing and a curse of our generation to have all the choice – the Beyonces, the Halle Berrys, the Jessica Albas and Lucy Lius, that bad actress from the Transformer movies, even – as faraway objects of affection. But how do you begin to choose who to fantasize about, to obsess over, to have one unforgettable night with as your final wish before dying? The instant answer when you’re sitting in the lunchroom at school and your buddy poses the question “Would you crawl 3 miles down a sewer, wrestle a wolverine and dig up your grandfather’s corpse to have sex with _____” and you blurt out “Yes,” stonefaced, before he can even finish, because you know whose name he was going to throw out there? Maybe back in grade 8 you could call it instantly. Maybe. But now? You can’t. Choice. There’s too much goddamn choice. 24 hour media and the internet have ruined us all.
So let’s take it back…back before the world wide web, before tits, ass and cursing on TV, before Playboy and Penthouse Magazines…let’s take it back to the late 50s / early 60s and stay here a minute. Picture it: the Greatest Generation has just beaten the hell out of its enemies in WW2 and Korea. The U.S. is an undisputed superpower, the world’s first. The country swaggers, the middle class grows, suburbia flourishes…the perfect storm for a wave of red-hot sex symbols who, at the behest of movie and TV studios, embed themselves in the national consciousness. They grab hold, shake and scream at the imaginations of these men sitting relatively idle (lest ennui take over and things get hairy out in Pleasantville. Or abroad. Think men haven’t ever started a war out of boredom? Think again. See: Vietnam). This troupe of ladies was not the first of its kind but after they arrived we would never look at our female sex symbols (or wives) the same way again.
Oh, there was choice, even in America’s racist myopia (see: Eartha Kitt), but not much. They’re almost all blonde, these ladies. Buxom, bombastic blonde broads who could drink you and your buddies under the table, blowing cigarette smoke and laughing in your face as they did. Remember – it’s the early 60s. “Some Like it Hot” has just been released and Marilyn Monroe is without question the hottest starlet in the world, a slinky, simmering sexpot.
But was she the hottest? What would have been the lunchroom answer in 1960?
We at Prevail Prevail have a few favourite old school beauties of our own – blonde and definitely not blonde (see: Eartha Kitt) – and Marilyn doesn’t the top of the list. The top, or damn close to it, would have to be Ekberg. Anita Ekberg. She of La Dolce Vita and the Trevi Fountain scene. Swedish-born (she was Miss Sweden in 1950. MISS SWEDEN) and made nice with Hollywood despite barely speaking the language and having zero acting experience. She had what used to be known as a ‘smouldering’ beauty, half closed almond shaped eyes, high nordic cheekbones and a natural build that women (or their men) put plastic surgeon’s kids through private school for. Kardashian-esque proportions of breast and booty. Though her film career outside of Vita is unremarkable she was notorious through her affairs with Frank Sinatra, Gary Cooper, Errol Flynn and the like and by all accounts she lived the high life aggressively, being spoiled by the Paramount studio system and her men both. Depending on your personal slant on things Anita’s life can be viewed any number of ways but there is an undeniable cautionary tale to be had here. Even after her marriages and relationships to rich and powerful men, Miss Ekberg is flat broke and in poor health, her beauty long gone. She is alone in her adopted country of Italy.
See Anita’s breathtaking beauty in the La Dolce Vita’s Trevia Fountain Scene HERE. Things start to heat up around the 2-minute mark. Enjoy.
Just as with this project, all life begins somewhere…
If your name is Porsche, ‘life’ began in 1931 with consulting and motor vehicle development in Stuttgart. What started with military vehicles, tractors and twenty one million ‘bugs’ scurrying across the globe, has evolved into the world’s largest manufacturer of race cars and the most successful entity in motorsport history. An astonishing twenty eight thousand racing victories and an indisputable reputation as one of the most stylish, desirable and prestigious luxury brands on the planet comes directly from the DNA of the first Porsche production car… the 356.
In 1948, Ferdinand’s son Ferry created the 356 and forever changed much more than just the automotive landscape, simply because he could not find a vehicle he wanted to buy. The agile and lightweight rear-engine rear-wheel-drive two door sports car that would come to define the iconic brand, was produced in a variety of both hardtop and convertible versions until 1966. Originally the same price as a Cadillac and sharing many components with its cousin the Beetle, the 356 would be constantly improved throughout is life span in the pursuit of performance, though the basic form remained true. Later models would share few parts with its meager ancestors, offer three times the power as well as vastly improved handling and refinement; quickly becoming renowned for its aerodynamics, engineering, style and build quality both on and off the race track.
“Driving in its purest form”, there is a reason that an astounding half of the seventy six thousand 356’s produced still survive today. Depending on model, condition and provenance; specimens can cost between ten and three hundred thousand dollars, or more. While we may not all be collectors looking for the ultra rare museum quality piece or are sadly unable to afford anything from the current line up, purchasing an everyday driver with classic style that will only appreciate in value for the price of a new Honda, shouldn’t even be a question. Of course James Dean, Steve McQueen and Bruce Lee are… err… were among the plethora of rich and famous 356 enthusiasts, but what did any of them ever know about what’s cool anyways?
The genetics of the 356 are clearly visible in all Porsche models even to this day, especially in one of the greatest cars of all time, the legendary 911. Because of this direct lineage, some say Porsche designers are the laziest people on earth and that there has not been a new Porsche (other than the Cayenne , which some refuse to acknowledge at all, but that’s another article) since the 911 was introduced in 1963, while others cry ‘if it ain’t broke then don’t try and fix it’. I think ‘ol Chuck would rather to refer to it as ‘natural selection’ but either way, Darwin has nothing on Porsche.
Photo borrowed from: Hufffree Hip Hop
It’s 1987. The beginning stages of the sneaker wars, which would eventually be taken world-wide and develop an identity of it’s own. In a sold out Madison Square Garden, and what seems to be a field of giants, it’s easy to stare in awe and admiration of the athletic monsters that some of these guys are. But as I watch the legendary New York Knicks dominate their way to another regular season win, I notice something else. Something bright, flashy, and in demand of my attention. Unlike the monstrous 6 foot 7 plus frames some possess, this is something I can actually relate too. The shoes. With 10 players switching in and out of shifts, I have alot of sights to see, and alot of sneakers to geek out at. I start noticing the colorways and styles. The soles and the stitching. The crooked tongues and the high tops. I’m loving it. As I’m taking it all in, squinting to try and properly see who’s wearing what, I gaze on who I know to be the king of the giants. They called him Patrick Ewing, and he was a beast. But his shoes…they were higher, meaner, solid looking… a sort of “I’m gonna put you on a poster and then step on you” kind of stompers. I had to know what they were… so I turned off the tube, gave a thank-you to NBA TV’s Hardwood Classics, and jumped on the computer to find out the name of my new favourite kicks. It turned out they were the Adidas Conductor, and Ewings signature shoe. And what I liked most about this model was the simplicity of the colour-blocking, and humble but respect demanding stance that they have on your feet. Adidas knows what’s good when it comes to making a classic design that meets all the performance levels it should. That’s a time-proven fact, and the Conductors are no exception. I remember thinking I was in trouble. Only because I’m not known for being able to say “No”, to someone trying to sell me a sneaker I love, when I visit my local shop… and with the sneaker market being where it is nowadays I figured I’d probably have to spend an outlandish amount on the recently released Knicks colourway retros. But Adidas holds strong and gives us the classics we want for a price that you won’t need financial advice over. About $100 give or take a little depending on your region and you have a pair of some of the most classicalest (yes, I did) sneakers in the history of it all. And you can ball in them. That’s the word.
Written by, Neph