I think what South Bay Standard Issue is setting out to do is what most of us are always trying to do: carry
forward what we love about the places that made us. This is the essence of diaspora, and this is how we orient
ourselves amid inevitable change.
The people who make this magazine were made, to
varying degrees, by the South Bay. This publication is our
way of honoring what we love about this place: its art,
culture, music, food, sport, history, and character.
When I was growing up in the South Bay in the ‘90s
and early 2000s, you could feel the energy of being at
an epicenter of surfing, skateboarding, and punk rock.
There was an undercurrent of counterculture. We grew
up in neighborhoods where it was safe to play outside,
unsupervised, until dark; we also grew up in proximity to
the grit of L.A.
In the decades since, some of the edges have been sanded
down. Compared to 2001, the year I graduated from
middle school, the price of housing in Redondo Beach
has increased by 344%. Per online real estate marketplace
Zillow, rent in Hermosa is 189% higher than the national
average. Many of the people I grew up with moved away
so they could afford to raise their kids.
Other things have changed, too, as they invariably do
with the passing of time. Turkey John isn’t riding down
the Hermosa Strand anymore. Ryan, the enthusiastic
movie buff, isn’t behind the counter at Premiere Video
anymore because Premiere is gone and all the other video
stores are, too. Redondo Fun Factory, the kitschy arcade
that inspired the artist whose work is on the cover of this
magazine, closed in 2019.
When I was reporting this magazine’s cover story, I
asked that artist, Greg Simkins, how the South Bay has
changed, in his view and experience. Simkins, who is
otherwise known by his graffiti tag CRAOLA, was born
and still lives in Torrance. He said he notices changes, of
course, and cited the ones a skateboarder would: you can’t
skate on the Hermosa Pier anymore; the people living
around here aren’t “the same beach legends we knew
growing up,” he said. Still, what he loved most about the
South Bay when you could skate on the pier is what he
loves most about the South Bay now.
“I have such a wide variety of friends here,” he said. “It’s
all because of growing up in this neighborhood, which is
a melting pot. And people say, no it’s not. But yeah, if you
go to different pockets of the South Bay, in general, yeah,
it is, totally, and there’s so many great personalities here,
and so many nice people. And if you’re just kind and put
yourself out there, you’ll meet good people.”
What he said made me think about the blind spots
baked into nostalgia. When you’re looking back, you can’t
see what’s in front of you. Simkins told me that recently he
was talking to another dad at an eighth-grade graduation
party, who was lamenting that the South Bay isn’t what
it used to be. “I kind of had to push back a little bit,
just because of the way my boys have grown up,” he said.
His kids grew up like him: outdoors, on skateboards, at
the beach. “And maybe I’ve put them in a position to do
that,” he added.
The cultures we love must adapt and evolve, but also,
we are their carriers. We take them with us wherever
we go. We can choose how and whether to honor and
transmit them.
This magazine tells stories about the dive bars, surf
breaks, artists, and playlists that shape the ethos of
this stretch of California coastline. It tells stories about
creative, devoted, local people who are invested in the
future of the South Bay. My friend Mark, who edited this
magazine, described the stories in these pages as “flowers
in the concrete.”
South Bay Standard Issue honors the towns that make
us, and how we make them in return. May we continue
to see the beauty in a place where there are good people
and you can still grow up outdoors, on a skateboard, and
at the beach.
Rachel Reeves
Contributing writer
South Bay Standard Issue
