Willy Staley puts down a great profile of Thrasher Magazine mascot Jake Phelps in California Sunday. And the photos by Andrew Paynter make Mr. Phelps look every bit the lovable punk that he has become over the past two decades of putting a face to the Thrasher ethos.
Here’s the start:
I had spent only a few minutes with Jake Phelps before someone called him an asshole. It was a balmy October morning in San Francisco, at the tail end of the city’s reliably tardy summer. I found Phelps outside of a corner store at 24th and Valencia at the appointed time, dressed like half of a magazine editor: On top, he wore a crisp white oxford and a gray sweater vest, chunky black glasses, and a few days’ worth of graying stubble. But his pants sagged to mid-ass; his shoes had pentagrams stitched into the tongues. At his side he held his skateboard, which had dried rivulets of blood in the griptape.
Click the link for the rest and think about just how happy the rest of the Thrasher staff is to have a guy like Jake to dive on all these media grenades for them.
[Link: California Sunday]
