Board With the Rules of Style

For the professional skateboarders of Team Alva, the rules of fashion are like any other set of constraints: made to be broken. “You can tell a poser if his clothes are new and not messed up,” says 15-year-old Ron Bertino of San Diego. “But, other than that, it’s anything goes.”

This happy-go-lucky style expresses itself in a colorful array of well worn, funky clothes that mix the looks of hippies and punks. On a sunny day in a Tijuana skate park, the skaters sped by, clad in tie-dye, Rastafarian knit hats, neon prints and basic black. In this subculture of youthful daredevils, it’s not uncommon to see shaved heads side by side with dreadlocks. Each person’s individual look takes a back seat to the common ideal of skating; fast runs and skillful technique gain respect quicker than eye-catching clothes.

Rhonda Doyle, 22, a college student from San Jose, wears the closest thing to the typical skater look: Guatemalan shorts, knee pads and a T-shirt bearing the logo of her favorite skateboard manufacturer. “You pick clothes that are comfortable, that you don’t mind if they get shredded,” she says. “Everybody goes down.”

While most skaters take Doyle’s approach to style, there are the few whose looks stand out. John Flannery, 19, favors a dress style that would make him feel right at home in an underground nightclub--black vest, a black T-shirt and black shorts topped off with his blond hair shaved closed on the sides. Mario Rubakada, a pro skater whose name graces a nationally marketed skateboard, has turned his long, tinted dreadlocks into a personal trademark. “All the skaters recognize Mario,” says Bertino, “ ‘cause of that moppy head.”

The tidbits and accessories featured in skate style usually hold some significance. A good pair of shoes, usually Vans or Vision high tops, become symbols of experience, gracing skaters’ feet until they’re falling to shreds. One particularly zealous skater, Donnie Johnson, who’s been traveling around the country checking out skate parks, wears a strange colored tile around his neck. It turns out the charm is a piece of a pool in Houston, Tex., where Johnson had a particularly good time. “It was the raddest run of my life,” he says with a laugh. “So I keep a bit of it with me.”