Our team of brand ambassadors met for our annual surf retreat in Playa Hermosa, Costa Rica where they shared inspiring days between waves, creative journaling and coffee breaks by the pool.
]]>Cracked earth begs for rain. The waxy leaves on the almond trees turn crisp in the hot salty breeze. Summertime swells grow few and far between.
The casita’s ceramic floor, cool and clean, is our only hope for a midday siesta.
As the dry season sets into our bones, we find temporary respite at our favorite beach breaks, surfing uncharacteristically small waves in crystal clear seas; staking our beach-blanket claim to swatches of shade beneath palm leaves.
Nostalgic for rain, verdant jungle fades to branched shades of sand-colored skeletons across the sticky landscape – threadbare, if not for the wild-blossoming bursts of summer flowers painting the hilly coastline with life.
Fuchsia bougainvillea. Pastel-pink plumeria. Peach hibiscus cherry-stained at the center like a kiss.
Cotton candy-colored roble de sabana petals liven our highway views against an ocean-sky of blue. Sunny blankets of corteza amarilla decorate the neighborhood in bright yellow blooms. Sweet ylang-ylang lingers out our window as day turns to dusk, and the air finally settles its perfume a little lighter on our skin.
We exhale into the night; rest our petals for another tomorrow beneath the hot-season sun.
In this kind of heat, beachwear and bikinis are our wardrobe; from beach to breakfast, pool to party – it’s literally all we can bear to wear.
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This year, late February brought our sea-smitten hearts together on Costa Rica’s Central Pacific for the first time in nearly a decade. Oh, the waves we’ve surfed on our separate stretches of coastline since those golden days when Dkoko was born from friendship, fashion, and a dream.
Babies and matrimonies, passion projects and graduate degrees. Big moves across oceans, southward escapes to turn the page on outdated love stories. Soul-surfing journeys and international surf contests in faraway lands. Growing up. Moving on. Beginning again. Sowing deep seeds beside fresh seas. Diving deep into the wellspring of our own lives’ desires. Reflecting on the adventures tattooed into our souls. Ready, as ever, to bloom.
Gathering boards, bodies, brains, beauty and bikinis from Costa Rica’s cardinal directions of Guanacaste, Santa Teresa, Puerto Viejo, and the Osa Peninsula, the growing Dkoko ambassador team met for our annual surf retreat – this time in Playa Hermosa, Dkoko’s birthplace; a spot many of us have been blessed to call home during the formative years of the brand, and our own surfing lives. A place consistent enough to hold the heavy waves of south swells past, yet still fertile ground for our mermaiding evolutions to blossom and become.
Dkoko Flourish Collection 2023 from Dkoko on Vimeo.
Our Hermosa homecoming, in honor of Dkoko’s FLOURISH 2023 Swimwear Collection, greeted us with perfect summer waves, skies full of sunshine, and starry nights haloed by a wide-waxing moon. Between vegan cupcake coffee breaks by the pool and authentically crafted sushi nights catered on the terrace, we circled up for a creative journaling workshop dedicated to unearthing the buds and blooms of our life and dreams, and took turns modeling the gorgeous designs and flower-inspired patterns of the new collection.
We marveled in the soft textures of watercolor florals, sunset pastels in retro cuts, flattering fits in aquamarine, silver sheen and classic black for surf and sun. Off-the-shoulder, high-cut string bikinis. Tasteful long-sleeved surf suits for a little more coverage. Cross-back one-piece designs, tank tops and strappy bandeaus. All the summer wear, sweet on our sunkissed skin.
Hair flying wild in the back of the pickup truck, southbound along the seafront road where the asphalt ends and our wave-dreams begin, we found sunrise sessions with feathering offshore winds and enough swell energy to satisfy our shortboarding froth and smooth longboarding style. We shared fresh-cut pineapple between photo shoots and celebrated one another’s unique artistry in the sea, drawing one-of-a-kind lines across an entire morning of dreamy chest-high waves.
As Dkoko has evolved over the years, our sisterhood has grown to include inspiring waterwomen across a spectrum of surf preferences, backgrounds, and lifestyle pursuits. We’re a team of both competitive and soul-surfing gals riding retro shapes, performance shortboards, and single-fin logs. Designers, dancers, writers, artists, coaches, divers, athletes, entrepreneurs, nonprofit leaders, community organizers, wellness practitioners, musicians, students and teachers.
Among sweet summer waves, heart-to-hearts around the breakfast table, and giggling together through sunset photo sessions, late February on Costa Rica’s Central Pacific paid homage to our origins, witnessed the many petals of our changing seasons, and housed our Hermosa homecoming, bursting into bloom.
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Written by Tara Ruttenberg.
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I've always surfed here and there, but I really learned when I moved to Puerto Viejo 9 years ago. One day a new friend of mine passed by on her moto on her way to surf and asked if I wanted to come. I hopped on the back, borrowed a board from the beach, and followed her out into the green waves. From there it was love at first wipeout. I went every single day, and eventually the local surfers, especially Dexter Lewis, took me under their wings and showed me the ropes. I think they mostly wanted to make sure I didn't get lost at sea, but surfing came easy to me. I started on a 6'4" and didn't realize the learning curve would be easier if I started on a longboard. ;)
As a former teacher, I gravitate towards uplifting our youth. I collaborated in starting Wolaba Youth Project, a non profit organization focused on providing mentorship from the youth of Puerto Viejo. I also studied dance up until university, so I will not miss a moment to get on the dance floor!
The pandemic days made very apparent the beauty and strength of the youth that live here in Puerto Viejo. We also realized the opportunity of having a town with so many talented people willing to give their time to both inspire and teach our children. Wolaba Youth Project is a bridge between the two - hosting surf workshops, academic mentorship, scholarships, and more. I really have to give a lot of the credit to Dario Menendez, a Puerto Viejo native who was brought up here and really devoted all of his time and energy into making the project become a reality.
I came to Puerto Viejo nine years ago because I was, and continue to be, drunkenly in love with surfing. What's special about this place is that our lineup is so diverse - so as a black female surfer, I fit right in. It was the first place I'd surfed where I knew it was okay to be myself. I found that the same level of comfort doesn't exist everywhere. Our mission is to break down the stereotype that people of color don't surf, because indeed we do. We host surf camps focused on providing a safe space. It took me five years to figure out what to do with my hair while surfing, or what bikini brands fit my body type, among other lessons, where I just couldn't find any resources. The opportunity to pass down what we've learned to others who will benefit is so, so special.
I've been a dancer from the moment I could walk. My mom enrolled me in dance classes at an early age, and I grew up on the stage. I studied dance well into my adult life, and the art still holds a huge piece of my heart. Dancing taught me how to pour myself into something, and create pure, raw energy. It's the same feeling I have when surfing.
As for tech, I came into the field as a former teacher - after years in the classroom, I knew the importance of using technology to increase the quality of education for our students. When I'm not surfing, I'm building solutions for educators and businesses. It's something that also brings me joy, because it gives me another outlet to create.
I always had this feeling that I belonged in the water, yet I was raised in New York City. Being in that environment really helped me understand internally who I was, someone with a VERY strong connection to the ocean. I was also raised by a very independent mother, who always pushed me to rely on myself, especially when pursuing dreams. When it comes to work, moving to Costa Rica, or learning how to surf, I always have the mentality of being able to do it on my own. It rids me of that feeling of having to wait for someone to teach me or mentor me. Of course, when that does come into my life, I welcome it with open arms.
For me, surfing is the closest to our natural way of being. On land, our society has imposed so many norms that just feel...unnatural. In the water, we are at the whim of the ocean. Our experience in surfing is directly related to how we connect with the water. I find when going into the water with humbleness and connecting with her (the ocean,) I always enjoy my time in the water, no matter how many waves I catch.
I really would love to see a more diverse surf community worldwide. When I lived in California, it was eye-opening to see that I was the only surfer of color in the water most days. I feel like the surf community is at a point where we are evolving into something that speaks to everyone. This is why representation matters so much. I'd love for a young female of color to walk by a surf ad and see someone who looks like her. Imagine the possibilities if we provide the next generation with the gift of knowing they can do anything they want, free of preconceived stereotypes?
I'm noticing that there are brands contributing to the movement, by highlighting different ethnicities, different body types, into their media. I think as we move forward, this will continue to strengthen our surf community. As we each pour a little more of ourselves into this love we have for surfing, we'll start to see how we are re-creating something really beautiful.
In front of my computer trying to learn how to build a website or build code, or at the beach with my very rambunctious puppy, Kala.
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The other day a friend of mine asked if I could create a guide on how to choose the best surf bikini. My friend’s seemingly random request made me realise this precious information is second nature to me and I have been taking it for granted. I hadn’t considered that there are women out there who are confused by the ocean of swimwear options.
So if you are one of these women, I am writing this for you, the ultimate guide on how to choose the best swimwear for surfing.
]]>Thank you so much, I’m happy you like it. :)
I have always had a very detailed artistic style. I like to get into maximum detail and work on textures with lines of various shapes, which ultimately has come to define my style over the years. Since I was little, I have felt inspired by the tropical southern world - I have been deepening into it and transforming my art until I created my own paradise world where I feel most at home.
I have been a creator for many years in the world of surf and skate, with a looser, more pop-culture style, but the name and idea for Tropia have always been with me and on my mind.
I’ve also added many years of experience in publicity agencies as art director and graphic designer, which gives that graphic touch to my work. I suppose my style has been maturing little by little along with me toward becoming what it is now. I feel complete and satisfied with my current style, and now I love seeing and understanding that a defined artistic style is a long and slow process we have to go through as artists.
I have an obsession with sketchbooks of different sizes and types of paper, and I always have one with me no matter where I go. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was a little, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving the house without one of my sketchbooks. I usually draw in different places, often in cafés near the beach. I like to drink something while I draw. But the truth is that I create most of my visible work in my studio, because that's where I feel most comfortable and have everything available to me that I need to create.
I am a very nostalgic and romantic person, and that’s why I love to dig into the past. I am inspired by mystery and magic, though I feel that in our present day many of the mythologies and positive aspects of religion have been lost that once helped human beings better understand our existence and our own mystery. There is great cultural richness in ancestral polytheism that we should recover for an indispensable reason in these times of environmental crisis: The vital relationship necessary between human beings and nature, in which ancestral gods and goddesses serve as a bridge for that connection. I want to be a part of this recovery of our gods and goddesses of the past and offer my grain of sand through my art.
And I have loved the project with you! In this type of work, there is always a first phase of research about the brand/client and their origins. With Dkoko, I wasn’t lacking for inspiration in Costa Rica, a place that inspires me deeply for its exotic and diverse nature. I was also given some concrete inspiration, like to include the tropical almond tree in the design. When the client is pretty clear on what they want, that always helps.
When I have clarity on which elements to include in the drawing, I start with the looser drawings to determine the structure of the illustration, more so in the case of a concrete application like a T-shirt design where the space is limited. My strokes are all done by hand on paper and later digitalized. Lastly, I give it color on the computer to allow for the the possibility of easily changing and testing different colors according to the client’s taste.
Learning about our goddesses and wise women from the past, and from all types of different cultures, I have realized that they all offer something essential toward forming the great UNI-ty of the UNI-verse. Ultimately, we have something in our being from all of the goddesses created by our ancestors. We go through very distinct changes, phases and stages during our life where we lack different strengths and energies, and where our personality becomes affected and changed. In my case, art has always helped me overcome these difficult stages and represent strong women who face everything with the help of their connection to nature that gives them everything they need.
Well it may sound a bit raw, but being able to pay all my bills like everybody else and still have energy and time to create every day is a real challenge. Art is not always seen as a job in itself, and it’s challenging to get to a point of earning a salary with art. Luckily my passion for art is born within me and comes naturally; I don’t have to force it. The need to create comes from within me, and when I’m not creating I’m not happy. For me, creating is a necessity. The passion is felt and is birthed on its own.
To maintain a certain level of economic sustainability, and also to continue investing in my artistic project Tropia, I work as a freelance designer and art director aside from being an illustrator. I have the privilege of having freedom in my work schedule as a freelancer, and I try to combine my workdays with brief moments that bring me pleasure - like a quick dip in the ocean, because luckily I have it nearby; or sipping a delicious coffee outside the studio to get me out and about.
But truthfully, I spend so many hours sitting in front of the computer or drawing that I have to balance it out with exercise and a social life. I very much appreciate and need my moments alone to get inspired and create, which are predominant in my day to day. So when the weekend comes, I have a social life and love to go out and dance and have fun with my friends, or escape into nature.
For me, art and creativity are like the cure for everything. To CREATE is to put into action from an emptiness, from something that has to be built and doesn’t yet exist. To create something new for the world that offers us something positive, or at least moves something in us. To create visual messages that are usually much more effective than the messages we read.
I believe we all have the power to create within ourselves, and no one should be afraid of creating. I don’t see art as simply possessing the talent of knowing how to draw, for example, but rather having an energy that is born from within us to create, and we can all feed that energy with simple action. I didn’t always know how to draw either, but the tireless energy that is born from within me makes me want to learn and explore a little more each day.
Check out Jil's website Tropia here to see more of her amazing work.
Interview written by Tara Ruttenberg
]]>Interview written by Tara Ruttenberg
Surfing photos by Salt Shots
We caught up with Marie-Moana to learn more about her island-inspired childhood, everyday lifestyle, and future aspirations.
I was born and raised on a little island in the Indian Ocean called Reunion Island. It’s where I spent most of my childhood before moving to Australia at the age of 14. My mother is Tahitian, so my sister and I grew up immersed in beautiful Polynesian culture. My parents have now moved back to Polynesia from Reunion, which is the place I most identify myself with. Although I’m based in Australia now, with my parents back in Tahiti I have two places to call home.
Growing up on Reunion Island was amazing, and choosing a favorite memory is tougher than I thought (laugh). A moment I cherish the most was when Dad made me miss a day of school because the waves were pumping. We drove to the surf, stopped at the service station to grab sandwiches and a pack of M&Ms, and went surfing ‘til dark at this famous wave called Saint-Leu (dreamy left). This was also when I started surfing the reef, as it was known as a dangerous spot. Surfing the reef meant that my dad trusted my surfing enough and knew I could handle the wave. It was such a thrill!
My father has always been an inspiring figure in my life as a surfer. He pushed me into my first waves and is the biggest frother you will possibly meet. I remember when I was just a little girl, my goal was to surf as good as him - he wasn’t scared of the reef and was pulling into barrels at very shallow breaks. I thought it was super scary.
When I moved to Australia, it was amazing to surf where a lot of pro surfers were training, like Stephanie Gilmore, Mick Fanning, and Jay Phillips. Surfing those spots and watching them train helped me develop as a surfer and improve my technique the best I could.
I had to leave Reunion Island at age 14 because of a dramatic shark situation on the island. We weren’t allowed to surf or even swim in the ocean. At that age, it was my dream to become a professional surfer. I was obsessed. I consider myself very lucky because my parents were supportive of my ambitions and sent me off to Australia, where my big sister was already settled. Their only condition was that I keep studying and maintain good grades. I was following a home-schooling curriculum which allowed me to organize my time between surf training and school.
A typical day starts out by waking up early, going for a surf in the morning, coming back for lunch and then studying in the afternoon. If I have time, I’ll go surfing again in the evening. When the waves are bad, I study all day so I can surf more when surf is on. It requires lots of discipline, but I think it has taught me indispensable life skills.
Moving to Australia definitely helped me start getting into competition. Australia, and more specifically the Gold Coast, is the ideal place to create this sense of competitiveness. It gets very crowded, and you have to “fight” to get your waves. I was also invited, as soon as I moved there, to join the most prestigious surf club on the coast - the Snapper Boardriders. Every month they host these little contests, stimulating that competitive drive from a very young age. As soon as I finished school, I wanted to make it to the dream tour, so I started the qualifying series.
Competition taught me a lot, about myself and about surfing. I was able to meet wonderful people and see amazing places. Although, to me, surfing is more than just 20 minutes in the water to get the best two waves in a heat. We often have bad waves, and the judging can be very subjective. Competing can be fun but also frustrating. No matter how hard you train, if during the 20 minutes you’re out there the wave doesn’t want to come to you, you can’t win.
I love competing because I have a very competitive nature, but nothing beats free surfing. I think surfing and surf contests are two very different things and we should never forget why we got hooked on it in the first place.
I have two more years of university to finish up, so it will get complicated to balance contests and classes. I’ll try to do the contests around where I live, but I really want to develop the free surfing side of things more.
Scoring pumping, barreling waves and pushing myself will definitely be on my priority list.
I also have a few other projects cooking in my mind… (laugh).
Travel restrictions were tough. Not being able to go further than your local supermarket was draining. What really helped me get through these hard years was to focus on my university and my surfing. I am a very disciplined person. If I don’t have something to work for, whether it’s uni or training, I feel that I’m wasting my time. We were lucky to be able to keep surfing during the many lockdowns in Australia. I am also fortunate to have part of my family close to me – my sister, brother-in-law and my little niece. I can’t even think about how hard it would have been if I was far away from all of them.
Wow! It is magical. First of all, seeing my parents who I hadn’t seen in three years was unbelievable.
On my second day back, I went surfing with my boyfriend and my dad at my favorite lefthander, and it was absolutely perfect. There weren’t even ten of us out. The water was warm, crystal clear, and the sun was shining. All the dreams I had over the past three years finally became my reality.
It’s too hard to pick a single thing I missed most. Family is definitely first; but not far behind would be the perfect waves, beautiful scenery, friends, and of course FOOOOOOD!
Competition season is over, so I’ll now have to balance my student life with my surfing life. I’d like to travel around Australia and discover some new places. I’ll head overseas during my school holidays.
And of course, I am hoping to surf Pavones and explore Costa Rica one day with the Dkoko girls! ;)
Ever since I was a little girl, moving from island to island (Reunion, Australia and Tahiti), I don’t think a day has passed that I haven’t seen or jumped into the ocean. If I get stuck in a place where I can’t see the water for longer than 24 hours, I start feeling anxious. I wouldn’t say I have a special relationship to the ocean; I just feel that the ocean is a part of me.
My first name is Marie-Moana. Moana is my Tahitian name and it means “the ocean”, so I like to think it was predestined from day one. Thanks Mom and Dad!
I would like to give a special thanks to Dkoko for supporting me to grow in my surfing career and as a person this year. I was able to surf in the cutest suits without the fear of losing them when a big set would break on my head! Thanks, Dkoko!
Interview written by Tara Ruttenberg
Surfing photos by Luis Rocha
Lifestyle and underwater photos in Tahiti by Mohea Moana
]]>Taking nine wave-thirsty gals on a surf trip to southern Costa Rica in late February is a risky move.
We would need an unseasonal south swell to light up the point at the second longest left-breaking wave in the world, one of our favorite homes-away-from-home. But with the start of the proper South-swell season still a month off, the odds weren’t exactly in our favor.
As the trip drew near, the surf report looked unpromising, but not un-surfable. And as our annual pilgrimage to the southlands had become something of a Dkoko tradition, Siempre Domingo (Always Sunday), our aptly named four-bedroom villa-with-a-view, had already been booked for us months ahead.
Risky, yes.
Worth bailing on our yearly surf retreat in jungle paradise? Absolutely not.
With the confluence of international surf contest schedules, entrepreneurial responsibilities, motherhood, and the ebb and flow of our everyday lives as women surfers, it was an actual miracle we could all make the trip.
As per our usual, we strapped stacks of boards to the roof racks, Tetris-packed our bags in the trunk, and shimmied a pair of Jack Russells, a French Bulldog, and my Rottweiler Pitbull into two SUVs, and were on the road at 4:00am, ready for the five-hour drive. It was reggaeton and vape pens for the childless crew in one car; indie rock and sugar-free snacks for the moms in the other – one on active duty with her three-year-old asleep in his car seat, two more on family hiatus; and me, somewhere in between, with my 80-pound lapdog snuggled up in back, praying for waves at the end of the road.
Surf author Dr. Thad Ziolkowski writes: “The ocean shore is the geographic equivalent of dawn or dusk, of the transitional mode of consciousness between waking and sleep, an intermundial state in which the spirit is quietly loosened from its moorings and set adrift. Edges blur, identities become uncertain, shifting, subject to flux and transformation. New thoughts well up, changes of life direction are contemplated…. All manner of crisis, whether planetary or personal, create liminal zones as they push us to the brink. The brink is a threshold, a crossroads.”
As a woman navigating multiple crises, both planetary and personal, I witness myself negotiating these liminal zones of change. On one side live the carefree days of my younger years spent traveling the world to surf, collecting impossible lovers like reef scars on the heart, feet tired from the tread. And on the other side, the existential angst that now comes with my story as a thirty-something single woman considering what’s next – a stable career when I finally finish my PhD? The prospect of motherhood? A home to call my own? At this crossroads of identity, I’m content enough in the backseat of today’s adventure, giant pup sprawled between my legs. But when will it be time for me to take the wheel and drive? What of my mermaid world will no longer fit beyond the threshold of these questions? Am I willing to let those pieces of my story fade?
They don’t call it Reflections 2022 for nothing.
Fortunately, by the very nature of our wave-riding obsession and endless hours spent mermaiding at sea, surfers know liminality – life lived at the threshold – better than most. We exist on shorelines, subject to the energetic whims of the ocean, comfortable with the chaos and uncertainties of weather patterns, swell directions, surface conditions, shifting seafloor geographies. Suspended in this liminality, spurts of activity accent the steady states of inertia we’ve grown accustomed to in our daily pursuit of transcendence, flow, communion, connection, self-mastery. And as women surfers, establishing our place in the vast sea of a still very male-dominated sport, industry and lifestyle, the nature of our liminality is often both survival strategy and well-honed super-heroine quality.
You’d think that the storied convergence of nine women surfers on a long-weekend bikini shoot in the jungle – two in their early twenties, a few dabbling in the mid-thirties, and some of us now circling in on forty – might read more like an intergenerational sorority sitcom than a surfy version of the Playboy penthouse.
Lucky for us, it was neither.
In fact, where cut-throat competition among women, and the sexualized objectification of our bodies are normally conditioned into modern surf culture, this trip was anything but that.
Instead, our story tells of sunny surf sessions at the palm-lined beach break down the road, impromptu group workouts, poolside dance parties, low-tide reef meanderings, vibrant home-cooked meals shared over family histories and lessons learned from our past relationships, reflecting both differences in the many joys we’ve lived, and similarities in the challenges we’ve faced as surfer girls coming of age in our distinct corners of the world.
What the swell lacked in luster as the weekend progressed, sweet jungle vibes did not disappoint. Early rains, brilliant sunsets, refreshing river dips, water apples and wild ylang ylang dangling from the trees lining the drive. Between photo shoots, Siempre Domingo lent itself to chill time in the lounge, yoga by the pool, siestas in the hammock. Moms remembered what it felt like to have free time to themselves. The younger crew sipped Corona with lime and reminded the rest of us we weren’t too old to still have a good time. I tried, in vain, to keep my beast from consuming a terrier while I journaled my stark reflections into temporary submission.
Meanwhile, the Reflections 2022 sustainable swimwear collection was the star of our surf-retreat show. Running our fingers through bold and baby blues, burnt orange, subtle seafoam, cherry-red and classic black, we basked in the body-flattering beauty of analog colors, retro-cut designs, the softest regenerated nylon fabrics in iridescent sheen and textures we couldn’t keep our hands off. Teeny string bikinis on sunkissed buns. Classy, high-waisted bottoms with more conservative coverage. Supportive sport tops, fresh metallic details, surf-worthy full-sleeve suits for that sunny midday tide. High-leg one-pieces straight off the set of Baywatch cerca 1989.
On retreat in the southland jungle, we were nine women with different surfing bodies and style preferences, from multiple continents, diverse backgrounds and distinct day-to-day lives, marveling in the ways the Reflections collection had a little bit of something for everybody.
Because there’s no one way to be a woman surfing the waves of this wild world.
If the rejection of social confines is to be found anywhere in modern surf culture, women surfers are at the center, making some serious waves – organizing intersectional activist networks, fighting for equal prize pay in the World Surf League, leading campaigns for diverse representation in surfing media, building sustainable swimwear brands, and supporting one another in sea-loving sisterhood. Where modern “competition” pits women against one another in the world of surfing and beyond, a different mode of sisterhood now occupies the liminal space of an emerging, global women’s surfing collective, harking back to the Latin roots of the word – competere: to strive toward or after something, together.
Surf scholar Dr. Krista Comer calls it girl localism, or a global surfeminist movement. We can also call it – plain and simple -- sisterhood at sea. While the waves might have left something to be desired where our shared thirst for surf was concerned, our Dkoko trip to the southlands, honoring the Reflections 2022 sustainable swimwear collection, was no exception to this new rule.
And while the deep life questions still swirl in my headspace well beyond the long drive home, there’s still nowhere I’d rather be than here, among inspiring women, surfing this world one wave at a time.
Story written by Tara Ruttenberg.
Photos by Monica Procter. Video by Matteo Cossovich.
Location: Casa Domingo, Pavones, Costa Rica.
Chicas: Adriana Masís, Giada Legati, Emily Gussoni, Yorgina Ureña, Rachel Feeney, Tara Ruttenberg, Jennifer Saunders, Veronica Wessel and Michelle Rodríguez.
]]>“Ocean’s Chaos” was the first collection to pop out. That was exactly the feeling of the moment: every second felt like a wave against myself. Anyhow I survived the hustle and bustle and months later I decided to dive deeper. I internalized within myself and "Into the Deep” was born. A meaningful verse to this conscious exploration of the subconscious with the purpose of recognizing the internal knots and naming them.
It was hard. In the bottom of my inner self there’s clouds, there’s dust, there’s darkness, there’s an uncertainty that’s apparently infinite.
There I was. There I am.
There I found myself.
Brave I opened my eyes and faced myself.
The air entered my soul and “CORAL LUST” came out.
In the bottom of myself there’s magic.
The astonishment of finding the wonders that exist there, left me as if suspended in time for a few seconds. There was peace. In that instant I understood what we have inside that makes us be ourselves.
Diversity of textures, diversity of shapes, colors, flavors ... entire universes unknown but ready to be admired and analyzed. Visual oversaturation in some corners in contrast to spooky void spatial plains. It will sound like an extremist comparison of an extremist used to "live dead" between poles because of fear to be happy in the harmonious balance of the in-between.
It is my appreciation, yes, but with textiles and colors as a foundation it becomes my testimony.
(BREATHE)
CORAL LUST is exactly that: a testimony that there is magic in the bottom.
There is air.
This is how I pour myself into Dkoko, my name is Gigi Meneses and it’s an honor to accompany you through my design’s proposal.
Let them nourish you!
Each day it's undoubtedly our most challenging ocean, surf it with us, we will be there within your own skin.
Written originally in Spanish by Gigi Meneses.
Gigi Meneses has been part of our design team since 2020. She’s in charge of the creative direction of our collections. Gigi has the amazing ability of interpreting the feelings and vision of our team, merging them with her own, in a magical melting pot that comes to life as a theme and inspiration for each of Dkoko’s collections. You can read more about Gigi here
Coral Lust is a surf bikini and swimwear capsule collection designed with the intention to find an use for all leftover materials we had from previous collections. Our goal is to minimize waste in our production line and to reduce CO2 emissions created every time there's a shipment of materials. In Dkoko we believe in using our creativity to minimize our impact to the environment while creating beautiful and unique products that women can use to enjoy the waves of our oceans.
]]>I wasn’t exactly feeling my best self when I joined the other gals in Playa Hermosa, our meetup spot halfway from the dirt roads of Santa Teresa to our filming location in the tropical jungle of the Costa Rican southlands. To be honest, my slow recovery from COVID, and a few too many tacos on a month-long surf trip to Mexico, had me questioning whether I was even fit to represent Dkoko’s new collection, Into the Deep, in a body that felt less than bikini-worthy.
Still, I wasn’t about to sit out the dream trip we had been planning for months – make that years – since the early Dkoko days when we’d escape south for the midweek swells, like seabirds chasing summer; before some of us had babies, became wives or pro surfers, started businesses, left the country, or took on graduate school.
So, doughy thighs and dimpled buns or no, I wouldn’t miss this journey for the world. Plus, as an avowed surfeminist, representing diverse body types in the surf industry was a cause I held in high esteem. I convinced myself this was my chance to try on what that meant, in the fabric of my own skin.
Like many women in today’s world, I’ve struggled with body image issues for as long as I can remember. In high school and college, my body woes manifested as workout addiction and obsessive self-monitoring; fad diets, calorie-counting and extra time on the treadmill to compensate for late-night food binges and all that partying. Now, well into my thirties and living most days in bikinis as an avid surfer and Dkoko ambassador, my body insecurities seem less of an everyday battle against the bulge and feel more like a dissatisfied resignation that certain parts sag, other parts pudge and the rest show increasing signs of ageing, like a junk-drawerful of souvenir memories from all those sunny days at sea.
"Like many women in today’s world, I’ve struggled with body image issues for as long as I can remember."
Still, despite the ways I’ve reflected on my own subjection to the sick and skewed beauty standards set for women in patriarchal pop culture, and perpetuated in the surfing world, it pains me to confess it’s a rare day I wake up feeling all-the-way comfortable in my skin. And I’d be lying if I said the stoke I felt meeting up with the Dkoko gals for our long-awaited trip down south, wasn’t shaded, even if ever so slightly, by those lurking insecurities over what I believed to be my not-quite-bikini-worthy-body.
But luckily, that’s not what this story ended up being about.
This is the story of seven women and four dogs, piled into one SUV for a six-hour drive – boards strapped on top, bags stacked in the back, boxes of local produce on our laps – and eventually scattered about our rented off-grid eco-mansion for three unforgettable days of sunrise surf sessions, storytelling in the sunshine.
We arrived before sunset to a soft rain, and settled in. Waxed our boards, keyed-in our fins, and walked the coarsely sanded shores of sheer paradise for a surf check, shaking off the silt of legs stiffened from the journey. The seven of us ranged in age from pushing 20 to rounding the corner on 40; a mix of nationalities local to Costa Rica and transplanted from countries and islands near and far; a few freshly single, others sorting through the growing pains of relationships old and new.
Some of us were already old friends, hours clocked together at sea, life stories intertwined like tendrils of stray seaweed sloshing together beneath the waves. Yet some links among us were brand new, softened into an easy friendship by our shared love for the surf and shameless obsession over Dkoko’s every last collection. Pretty sure the only thing we actually argued about was where to surf - classic longboard vibes preferred the slow-peelers further up the coast; ripper chicks on low-volume shred sticks frothed for the point on a fading swell, draining tide. Luckily, the wave setup in this particular swatch of jungle was a crowd-pleaser across the spectrum of surfing dreams, so the question quickly became simple: where should we surf next?
Hot-off-the-press bikinis strewn across picnic tables on the porch, we dipped our skins in lipstick pink, seafoam green and textured black; dabbled our Dkoko desire in hues of soft blue-grey, sandy salmon and the brightest white. Gushing over the sleek lines and smooth feel of the new regenerated nylon fabrics, we took turns trying on bikini combinations and bathing each other in the beauty of compliments unfeigned.
How can something as simple as a well-crafted bikini make you feel so damn good? So good, in fact, that somewhere between the high-waisted Nyx bottom in Saltwater and the Deep Roots one-piece in Freshwater/Earth, I must have forgotten to care about my sun-worn skin and that extra little jiggle at the folds of my bum.
We were seven women, waist-deep Into the Deep, and we couldn’t wait to dive even deeper, testing out Dkoko’s latest designs in the crystalline surf.
With our mermaid videographer behind the lens, shooting from shore and sea and everywhere in between, our surf days on location were spent chasing that early morning light against cotton-candy clouds, chilly offshore breeze and a dreamscape of waves to satisfy our surfer hearts’ content. We took turns navigating the lineup, calling each other into waves and sharing the stoke of endless rights for days.
On carefully selected surfcraft, our unique surf styles spoke to the diversity in our individual surfing histories, shaped across international surfscapes and decades spent drawing liquid lines across the cool canvas of unbridled energy in constant flux, our shifting selves juxtaposed against the wild of the ocean’s forever ebb and flow. Each day, I marveled at the beauty of us on the waves we love, uniformed in our favorite Dkoko hues, shades of skin sparkling brilliant in difference, backlit by sunshine and blue.
I have always been a strong believer in the truth of the matter that where women gather, magic happens. Our Dkoko surf journey was no exception to the rule. Midmorning coffee talk and home-cooked meals shared around the dining table centered on the nuances of our lives as surfing women, the joys and challenges of our relationship realities, our separate career interests and passion projects, and the collective surfing experiences that trace the lines of connection among us. We shared waves, playlists and birthday cake, and even hiked up the river to the nearby waterfall to paint our faces in blue clay for a natural spa day, pausing for a few photo-ops along the way.
"I have always been a strong believer in the truth of the matter that where women gather, magic happens."
I reveled in the novelty of sharing space and stories with women both younger and older than me; nostalgic, perhaps, for the simple innocence of my younger days, and simultaneously grateful for the glimpses of wisdom both intuitive and grounded in years of life’s peaks and swells, reflected in the smile lines that remind us of the miles we’ve walked, the waves we’ve surfed to get here. We might not all have that picture-perfect surfer girl booty from the magazines, but we all carry that ageless, courageous surfer girl spirit, brought together to celebrate the formless beauty of being women in love with the sea.
After a few days in our southland surf paradise, moving through the stories of my own body image insecurities, held in the vines of that wild jungle and the limbs of supportive surfing women, this story became one of shared reality across decades of age difference, friendship among women beyond envy or competitiveness, a girls’ surf trip with as many perfect waves as there were impromptu moments of connection, celebration; camaraderie, and oh yes, champagne.
Wave-count high, jungle hearts full and inner surfer girl spirits lifted, we said goodbye on the last day of our journey, as seven surfing women embracing the ever-shifting sands of self, soaking up every last drop of sweet sisterhood at sea.
Story written by Tara Ruttenberg.
Video and photos by Jade Madoe.
Chicas: Emily Gussoni, Yorgina Ureña, Maya DeGabrielle, Rachel Feeney, Giada Legati and Veronica Wessel.
]]>Perhaps some of you have wondered why Dkoko, a Costa Rican brand, has so many photos and stories from the beaches of Australia?
For those who might not be familiar with who we are behind the brand, let me start by introducing Veronica and myself, Michelle, the owners of Dkoko. Veronica lives in Santa Teresa, a tropical paradise on the Central Pacific of Costa Rica; and I left our beloved country three-and-a-half years ago, to come live in the Sunshine Coast, a city on the eastern shores of Australia.
Here in Australia, life is good and mellow. It’s no coincidence that they call this spot on the globe “the lucky country”; the majority of people here live close to the beach, and I have the fortune of living just a few blocks from the sea.
Australia is famous for its unique animals. But it also has incredible plants that have adapted to the particular climate of this giant island located between the Pacific and Indian Oceans. When it rains, the eucalyptus fills the air with its fresh aroma, and its flowers paint the landscape with the most beautiful gum nut flowers. The beaches have the clearest water, white sand, and stones pressed into the banksias trees, where the multicolored birds sing sweetly.
The Sunshine Coast has all kinds of waves: beach breaks, rocky pointbreaks, and fast barreling waves that work best when the big swells arrive. But as many surfers have come to know, Australia is particularly famous for its perfect longboarding waves.
I had never even touched a longboard in my life until I came to live here. I remember the first time I went to visit my Australian boyfriend, and he surprised me with the gift of an 8-foot longboard. At the time, I didn’t understand why he was giving me this board that I couldn’t even move from the rack, let alone try to surf. In fact, it took me a few years to warm up to the idea and finally come to understand the happiness a longboard provides by letting us surf and have fun even when the swell is small.
Here in Australia, the winds change significantly with each season of the year, which means the beach with the best waves changes depending on how the wind is that day. The beach closest to my house is a very consistent beach break, yet it needs soft winds from the west for the waves to be good. That means when the wind blows from the south, you have to go in search of places that are more protected from the wind; and luckily, that’s when all of the best spots begin to work.
A five-minute drive from where I live, there’s a famous spot for longboard sliding, known as “The Bluff”. It’s one of my favorite waves because it’s soft, long and perfect. When there’s some bigger swell in the water, it’s an incredible wave for shortboarders, and it’s the spot where I have caught some of the best waves, on those perfect days that stay in your memory forever.
Since the first few times I surfed at the Bluff some four years ago, I remember having seen Tia Coulter sliding agilely like a ballerina on the water. At the time, she must have been only 12 years old. Tia is part of a family of surfers whose favorite spot is the Bluff, which is why it’s common to see Tia surfing alongside her grandmother, grandfather, mother and brother, who are all ocean-lovers and excellent surfers.
At this stage of my life, I don’t surf as frequently anymore, or for as long as I would a few years ago. But when I can get there, surfing still fills me with the same energy and happiness it has always given me. That’s why I try to find time for my surfing passion between my career and motherhood responsibilities.
One of the things that has helped me keep surfing as a new mom is the group, Surfing Mums Australia. Surfing Mums are organized groups of surfing mothers who meet up each week at different beaches, sharing and supporting one another so that we can keep doing what we love.
I have been a part of Surfing Mums since my son was 6 months old (more than two years ago now), and I believe these groups are an incredible idea that should be replicated in other countries, like Costa Rica.
As part of Surfing Mums, my son and I have both made great friends. Rommie Beck is the organizer of our local group and is one of my favorite people here in Australia.
Rommie is one of those special souls who is always happy and ready to paddle out no matter what the conditions are like. It doesn’t matter if it’s cold, windy, big or small out there; Rommie is always on the beach with a smile.
Last week, I went to surf with Tia and Rommie at a few of our neighborhood spots. First, we went to the Bluff. It had just rained heavily the day before, so unlike the deep blues we’re used to, the water had turned the color of chocolate milk; but the waves were just as fun as always. Later, we went to the end of the beach in our neighborhood, home to a lovely park with rocks, casuarina trees and a lighthouse. There, we surfed a spot they call Carties, which was small that day but had crystal clear water and just a few people out.
Carties gets really good with more swell, but that day we didn’t have much luck. Still, we surfed for hours between both spots without even realizing it, because, as they say, time flies when you’re having fun!
My talented friend Lucia Santiago filmed this video of our time together, where you can see what it’s like to live a day in the surf life here in the Sunshine Coast of Australia. When I watch the film now, I smile and think to myself: it’s absolutely true; we live in a beautiful place.
Story written in spanish by Michelle Rodriguez and translated into english by Tara Ruttenberg.
Video by Lucia Santiago.
Lifestyle photos by Tracy Naughton.
]]>Hi Tia! Thanks for sharing with us. Would you tell us a little bit about yourself to start?
Hey, I’m Tia. I’m 16 years old and currently in grade 11 at highschool. When I’m not juggling my studies and part time job, I’m surfing. I have lived and surfed on the Sunny Coast, Australia, all my life. My local surf spot is The Bluff at Alexandra Headland and always has been, ever since my very first wave at 4 years of age.
When and how did you get into surfing?
The opportunity to surf was given to me by my family who spent every spare moment at the beach, surfing together. My grandad, Barry who is now 77, has been surfing the bluff and surrounding areas since his early teens, when the coastline was simply cow paddocks, with the occasional shack here and there. He and my grandma, Noela (nanny), then passed their love of surfing onto my dad, Drew and his 2 brothers, Damian and Luke, who also encouraged myself, my brothers and my cousins to get on a board from a very early age. Mum, who also loves longboarding, surfed during her pregnancies and believes that this is part of the reason why surfing is in our blood.
From left to right: 10 month old Tia at Double Island point, 2 year old at Maroochydore beach, at age 4 surfing with her mum at the Bluff.
My first real memories of surfing are paddling out on the front of dad’s board and surfing tandem with him. When he paddled us onto waves, he would pull me up and hold me by the rashie or wetsuit so I didn’t fall off. He wasn’t bothered about wave size either, we used to paddle into 3-4 footers which freaked me out a bit, but I loved surfing, especially being cheered on by the local Bluff crew I grew up with.
By the age of 5, I was catching waves on my own 6ft foamie until I turned 8 and got my first fibreglass board, which was a 7’6 mini mal (a longboard for me). My first fibreglass board made me feel like a legit surfer. I always tried to copy my brother’s style and manoeuvres which I thought were so cool.
Tia's Nanny age 16, at "Pipes" Maroochydore, 1964. Nanny and Grandad at The Bluff 2019, age 70 and 74.
Once I got more control of a bigger board, dad decided it was time to get me a real 9-footer, which he and I shaped for my 10th birthday. It was 9’1 with a blue glassed in fin and rainbow paisley inlay on the deck. Although I loved that board so much, my biggest aspiration was to have my own surfboard sponsor, and when my brother, Cale was quickly picked up by MS Surfboards at 12 years old, it inspired me big time. So I started trying new things and finding my style and eventually I was riding for MS too.
I’m so so grateful for the opportunities and experiences surfing has brought me. It truly brings me so much peace and happiness, especially long boarding.
What’s it like for you living in the Sunny Coast? What’s your favourite thing about living here?
From what I can remember, 10 people in the water on a good day was considered a crowd, even if majority was my family. Now I paddle out at the bluff and sit amongst 30-40 people on an average day. I love the Sunny Coast for its friendly surf community and abundant surf breaks we can still enjoy, despite the crowds. I’ve been lucky enough to stay at the lighthouse cottages at Double Island Point pretty regularly since I was only little, and it always reminds me why I love the Sunshine Coast so much. Scoring the most magical surf in the bay every now and then with no one around. I’ll cherish those moments forever.
Can you tell us about your favorite surf spot?
The Bluff will always have a special place in my heart because of all memories I have there, but I also love exploring and finding new and more secluded places to surf. A few of my favourite’s spots on the coast would have to be Double Island Point, Old Women Island and Northshore. I also love surfing at The Pass, Byron Bay and The Springs at Agnes Water.
What sort of tips would you recommend for someone keen on learning how to longboard?
I would say the most important thing for beginners is to find a break with conditions suitable to your ability, go for surfs regularly, be aware of other people in the water and most importantly, don’t hesitate to try new things.
What are your favorite Dkoko bikini designs and why?
My favourite Dkoko bikini is the Soul bottom and Radiance top in the colour freshwater and if I am surfing, I usually pair it with the Panga Drops rashguard to be a little more sun safe. The material is super soft and comfortable, and will absolutely not fall off in bigger surf! My favourite one-piece has to be the Rio Claro surf suit purely because I love the simple, yet feminine design and how it complements my body.
What are your plans for the future after you graduate next year?
I’m working towards graduating high school with a good result which will enable me to eventually study architecture and interior design in the future. Before that though, I have always dreamed of travelling Australia with a few friends. We don’t really have a plan as yet but we do know we’re going down south and following the coastline all the way to WA. If I get a little bit carried away with my travels and extend my gap year to 2 years, I would love to live and work at the snow in New Zealand for a winter season and explore the whole coast.
What do you love most about surfing?
It sounds cliché but surfing makes all my worries or whatever I’m stressed about disappear. It’s like a little getaway. Exams I haven’t studied for tomorrow. Go for a surf. Assignment due in 3 hours. Go for a surf. There really is so much to love about surfing. It makes you appreciate earth a little more. It can be adventurous, challenging, terrifying or exciting. But I especially love surfing because I get to do it with my family, and not many people can say that.
Watch the video of Tia surfing here.
Surfing photos from Lucia Santiago. Lifestyle photos by Tracy Naughton.
Thank you Tia for sharing your family photos with us!
When we pause to think about what we enjoy the most, the sea comes to mind as our faithful companion. She embraces us with every wave, purifies our being and gives us life to carry on. But we have done something wrong. We have ignored her wounds. We cannot keep this up. As a society we are seeing the grave consequences of our actions, of our modern lifestyle and consumption habits. At Dkoko, we stopped carrying on about our business as usual, and started thinking about how we could do better; how we, as a brand, could take on this important issue in earnest. It was with this intention that Mareas was born.
Mareas emerged as a passion project with the vision of making aware through making visible, of going beyond the walls of our store space and using our brand’s platform in a responsible way.
The Mareas story began on the shores of small-town Tárcoles, in the province of Puntarenas, along Costa Rica’s Pacific Coast. It was impossible for us to ignore the piles of solid waste overflowing at the shoreline on the beach; the sheer quantity of plastic, astounding. Fishing nets and line, bottles, bags, microplastics and children’s toys. We cleaned up and collected everything we possibly could; and in that moment, trash became our resource for artistic creation.
The transformation begins. Ideas translate into tangible objects, reimagined with endless possibilities explored. Every net gets washed, and intentions woven. A beautiful curtain is born from the waste products found beside the sea; and it is no longer garbage, transformed now as part of our window to the outside world. It becomes a work of art, accompanying our swimwear designs, which we are also so very proud to present to you. Into the Deep showcases Dkoko's concerted efforts to make a change, with an entire collection made from regenerated fabrics. Ignoring the issue is no longer an option. The planet is hurting, and it is high time to make a change.
Written by Rosa Obando and translated into english by Tara Ruttenberg.
Video & Photos by Dixiana Salas.
]]>It’s the day before the first photo session for our new collection, Into the Deep. I’m at home, readying the bikinis we plan to photograph tomorrow. I feel the softness of each delicate piece in my hands. Morning light floods in through an open window, making the iridescent fabrics shine.
I look over every detail with that sense of pride you feel after a meaningful journey: each seam, the combinations of textures and colors, the positioning of our logo inserts, the accessories we chose to adjust the straps. It occurs to me that what I have here in front of me are not your inert everyday objects. They are bikinis with soul, made with so much love. Every detail has a story behind it, born from one of our ideas; thought up, worked out, sweated through, and now made into something real.
The story behind this collection feels as if it started a long time ago. Like the sensation of this strange year, in a way atemporal, both fast and slow at the same time. And still, a significant experience lived by so many of us around the world.
As they say, with the bad comes the good. And with a little perspective, we might begin to see that 2020 was a beautiful year. It got us out of our comfort zone and gifted us a pause. We lived a whirlwind of emotions. Our hearts grew filled with the fear of uncertainty for a time; and yet we soon chose to enjoy those tranquil moments. Instead of losing hope, we worked on the things we never had time to do in the hectic rushing around of our day-to-day.
On one of these quiet days, I imagined I was swimming in a choppy sea with stormy waves. As I submerged myself deeper and swam down, away from the surface, the water grew calm. The light entered in a spell of magic, tinting the deep blue with turquoise hues. I floated gently, peaceful in my body as I watched the bubbles of air escape from my lips, little by little, in a sort of slow motion.
This experience became the inspiration for our newest collection. A journey in search of the answers in the depths of ourselves. A vital disconnection to reconnect to ourselves and the natural world around us. A pause to recharge. A reminder of what is most important in our lives.
It brings us such joy to know that the creations from this journey will accompany you along your own sea-faring paths.
Check our new collection of sustainable swimwear Into the Deep here.
“I have been a seeker and I still am, but I stopped asking the books and the stars. I started listening to the teachings of my Soul.”
RUMI
Upcycling, also known as creative reuse, is the process of transforming by-products, waste materials, useless, or unwanted products into new materials or products of better quality and environmental value.
The goal of upcycling is to prevent wasting potentially useful materials by making use of existing ones. This reduces the consumption of new raw materials when creating new products. Reducing the use of new raw materials can result in a reduction of energy usage, air pollution, water pollution and even greenhouse gas emissions.
This is a significant step towards regenerative design culture where the end products are cleaner, healthier, and usually have a better value than the material inputs.
We at Dkoko truly believe that challenging and difficult times also present invaluable opportunities to learn, grow and evolve. Like a storm at sea may cause the water to become choppy, with time, the chaos and unpredictability can turn into beautiful rolling swells. One can’t be without the other.
Nature has forced all of us on the planet to slow down and in the process has allowed us at Dkoko to reconnect with one of our most essential values: ”our love for nature”. We are committed towards taking care of our planet while doing what we love most, designing the best quality products for women surfers around the world while reducing our environmental impact.
For decades the fashion industry has played a central part of a consumer-based economy of fast fashion and disposable, cheaper products. Most often this involves wasting large amounts of materials and having no regard for the impact on the environment. This has been the norm for a long time, and gladly we are starting to see how more companies and consumers are becoming conscious of this.
As individuals and collectively as a human race it’s time to stop and re-evaluate what we have assumed all along and have taken for granted, this unsustainable habits we have created as a society, producers and consumers.
Like many companies in the fashion industry, we have accumulated, over the years significant amounts of post production materials, such as high quality fabrics, zippers, thread, elastics and more. From these materials we have decided to use our creativity to design a new beautiful collection of unique products for our customers.
With this collection we also wanted our ambassadors to be heard. So we met with them and got their feedback and ideas to make our designs. This is how we came out with our new "Emi bottom" a design by Emily Gussoni, a professional surfer who has been representing Dkoko for 8 years.
We wanted to create and launch a special collection for both surfing and for fun on the beach. Our objective for this project was to create a collection filled with passion and inspiration. We hope you like this capsule as much as we do! And we can elebrate together a different type of “season".
Check out out new limited edition Ocean Chaos capsule here.
]]>In this collection we had the opportunity to work with talented Costa Rican Designer and Illustrator Majo Rodríguez.
For many years I dreamt of having an exclusive fabric with one of my favorite animals: the magic and mysterious jaguar of the lush jungle of Costa Rica.
Majo brought to life this idea, creating a clean and minimalist illustration with jaguars we printed in our swimwear fabric and also in light rayon for our Slow Flow collection.
We also wanted to have a mini orchids print for our beachwear that she illustrated beautifully.
Check out these amazing photos of the process from each artwork!
We’re stoked at the final work and having such amazing art in our bikinis. Working with amazing artists like her let us reach our mission of creating special, unique pieces to accompany us in our ocean adventures.
We asked Majo to share a little bit about her and her work:
I’m a Designer and botanical Illustrator born in the tropical paradise of Costa Rica. I’m a nature lover, passionate for botanical illustration.
Each of my projects (made by hand or digitally) are characterized for having great detail that focus on the beauty of our planet.
Each illustration I make, is made honoring nature and its magic. For this reason I choose to work with clients which business values are aligned with the respect and love for Mother Earth, and are inspired by her.
Thanks to being an illustrator I’ve been able to explore projects of many kinds. From packaging, murals, wallpapers all the way to textiles. Transforming them into a pieces of art, with personalized and exclusive artwork that give extra value to the products. Like Dkoko’s swimwear made with my jaguar print.
I loved the work process in this project. All the way from the concept, the sketch, the tests, until the most exciting day, when I saw the final product finished with the living illustration on it.
]]>Becoming a mom has been the greatest process of personal learning that I have ever lived. I look back at the woman I was, just three years ago, and see her as so different from who I am today.
Maternity has gifted me with a perspective of the world endowed with more compassion, empathy and humility.
I reflect on the ideas I once had about being a mom. Phrases would pass through my mind like, “when I have kids, I’m going to be a cool mom,” or “my kids are going to be like…”. Now I laugh remembering my own words. And one of the greatest gifts of this process has been to accept all the things that aren’t in my control and embrace them softly, instead of fighting against them.
I have always been of the mentality that everything is possible. I began telling myself that I could turn my every vision into reality, and I believe that this mindset has given me the motivation and energy to live the experiences with which I have painted my life’s canvas. I’ve been able to materialize my creative ideas, have my own business, travel alone through many countries where I met wonderful people and immersed myself in their cultures. I’ve been able to incorporate my passion for the sea and surf into my everyday lifestyle. To surf paradisiacal waves. To live in different countries and create a family on the other side of the world.
Three years ago, my life was full of exciting adventures, new places, parties, trips from one corner of the world to another, and perfect waves everywhere I went. But the lack of routine and stability – even if I wasn’t fully aware of it – was accompanied by headaches, fatigue and doubt.
When I was three months pregnant, I flew from Australia to Bali to renew my tourist visa. I rented a room in front of the ocean near the famous wave, Keramas. I remember being on the point, full of experienced surfers, and paddling competitively against them for a few good waves. Once I snagged a decent right and started paddling back out to the lineup, a giant set came and I got stuck on the inside. Another surfer caught a wave, and as he turned, scratched over my back with one of his fins.
Fortunately, nothing happened and I wasn’t hurt. Yet, after that moment I lost my mind. I began thinking seriously about what would happen if one of those surfers actually hit me, and that just because I wanted to catch a wave - like the many perfect waves I had been blessed to surf in my life – something would happen to my baby. It wasn’t just about me anymore.
That afternoon, instead of returning to surf, I went to the nearby Komune Resort, located just in front of the wave. And although I never spent money on that sort of thing, I reserved the “Goddess Package” at the spa – a full treatment with massages, facials, and a steamy bathtub full of rose petals. I indulged in a delicious jasmine tea surrounded by beautiful Balinese gardens. After the three-hour treatment, I left feeling like more than a goddess, in a state of sheer bliss. It was exactly what I needed in that moment: to take care of myself instead of trying to prove to myself that I could catch and surf those big waves.
Back at home in Australia, I kept surfing throughout my pregnancy, until one morning in the waves when I was six months pregnant, and accepted that I wasn’t enjoying it. My sensitive nipples hurt in the frigid water of Fall, and it bothered me to have people around me, as I feared they could inadvertently hit my belly. It was then that I traded surf for long walks on the beach and re-invigorated my yoga practice.
While I’ve gone to many yoga classes over the years since I was young, this time I started practicing five times per week. Previously, I would often say that mellow yoga classes bored me; but during my last three months of pregnancy, I finally started to love breathing, holding postures, listening to my body and not forcing anything that didn’t feel right. I would try to imagine what the baby was doing inside me. I felt how he would grow calm with the rhythm of my breath. How he moved and became more active with my movements.
During my pregnancy, I was lucky to be able to rest a lot and take naps whenever my body asked for them. Practicing yoga frequently, I started to discover that there are days when my body wants to be more active and is more flexible; and other days when it begs for rest, wants to relax and repose in savasana for an entire hour.
I had a natural and very quick birth. My son was born in warm water - the only thing that alleviated my pain. A few seconds after, I held him in my arms, pain-free and full of the greatest love I have ever felt. And in that moment, as my own mother had warned me: my life changed forever.
In a few months, I will complete a three-year cycle of living in Australia. Although I feel fortunate to live in this beautiful, tranquil place, my soul misses being in my own land. I miss the humid ylang-ylang scented air, the sound of the scarlet macaws over the almond tree on my patio, those rainy afternoons that smell of fresh, wet earth; the animated smiles of the people around me.
Becoming a mom has coincided with this period in my life where I’ve lived far away from home. Australia has gifted me with patience, a new perspective on the world and society. Living here has grown my appreciation for the simple things and the perfect cycles of nature.
In our modern culture we are used to running; to having everything and more. We live our lives so busy thinking about what we’ll do next, the next place we’ll visit; until the point that we forget to live this moment, to enjoy this place.
As women, we want to teach the world and ourselves that we can be and do everything. We want to show that we are intelligent, beautiful, professional, sexy, sporty, funny, capable, strong; mothers, friends, lovers – in a word, perfect. We want to prove that we are everything, always.
I feel that most of us have that microchip built into the fabric of our skin. The need to prove our worth to the world is so great that we feel guilty if we take a break.
As women, we are not only capable of being mothers of incredible human beings. We also have the potential and energy to give life to and grow businesses, creative projects, communities and all types of dreams.
I believe that the time has come for us as women to set aside that necessity to prove our worth and ability. It’s time to gift ourselves the time we need to listen to ourselves, our bodies and our spirits.
More time to breathe deeply. More naps in the garden with our children. More deep conversations and less social networking. Fewer “stories” and more smiles at strangers. More breaks. More pause.
We are living a time in which it has become impossible to make plans. Everything I planned for this year has been frozen or canceled. This is the perfect moment to live in the here and now.
I’ve heard many times that yoga teaches us to be more flexible; to create more space. I’m finally starting to understand that yoga is not about being a contortionist. Mentally, we should be flexible enough to accept and mold ourselves to what life presents us. Knowing and accepting ourselves, we create space for tranquility - space to receive the new experiences we need to learn and grow.
Living firsthand the process of how a spectacular human being starts as a microscopic union inside of us, gets nourished, and grows into a perfect baby, is absolutely wonderful. It has filled me with a profound sense of admiration toward the female human body and the overwhelming perfection of nature.
For me, the hardest part of becoming a mother was the death of the woman I had always been. When I realized that I was pregnant, despite the joy I experienced in somehow already knowing I wanted to have a baby, I cried inconsolably without knowing why. I look back now and believe that something in me knew that the “me” I was up until that moment was dying. And with that death has come a profound renewal. I have not only become the mother of my son; I have also witnessed the birth of the new woman who has arisen inside me.
Perhaps in those first few months I also cried for fear of the unknown, since I didn’t know what this new life would bring me. But as we witness all things born from the earth that are nourished with love, watered with attention and admiration, grow little by little, that’s how I have grown fond of my new me.
I still sometimes miss those endless, carefree days of surf for hours on end in the jungle. Yet I know that soon I’ll be able to go back to living them with an adventure partner who has made me feel more safe, more humble and more compassionate; and who has gifted me with this newfound appreciation for the cycles of nature and a deep love for what truly matters in life.
Motherhood, what a blessing it has been.
Originally written in Spanish by Michelle Rodriguez and beautifully translated to english by Tara Ruttenberg.
Photos with my son by Lucía Santiago. Maternity pictures by Katie.
]]>As the seasons change on different sides of the equator, we have been learning the beautiful art of being present. Life has led us into learning the lesson that slowing our daily rhythm is the surest way to experience all the beautiful details of life that surround us.
Slowing down allows us to enjoy gliding gracefully and slip-sliding smoothly on a longboard, appreciating the rays of sun that sparkle on the water, the delight of simply floating in the sea, savoring the sensation of fresh saltwater on our skin.
That seeking sense of endless search, years of surfing faster, stronger and bigger waves, has settled into our past. We no longer feel the need to prove toourselves that we are strong, simply because we already know we are.
Now, we crave a different sort of delight: to enjoy the waves as they come - withsunshine, rain, strong winds, or glassy seas. And, of course, those unforgettable days of epic waves that stay in our memory forever and always.
Perhaps this newfound sense of simple presence has influenced our latest collection – complete with retro nuance, stylish throwback cuts from the 70s, flouncy feminine details and minimalist patterns.
For Slow Flow, we have chosen beautiful textured fabrics that we combine with original patterns specially designed for Dkoko by two talented female illustrators whose work we have admired for years.
We hope you love our new collection designs as much as we do – may you wear them with strength and joy on your newest adventures - wherever and however the waves may break.
Check out our new collection's full catalog here:
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There aren’t many places left in the world to surf uncrowded breaks in paradise. And while the secret of Simelue Island is fast leaking out, it is still possible to surf a perfect right-hander with a few people out. I know, because I just did it.
In June and July I spent two months living and surfing around the remote Island paradise of Simelue in Northern Sumatra, Indonesia. I was travelling on my own and surrounded mostly by men. As such I spent many days dreaming of returning with a group of women. At first glance it can be a little complicated as a woman on Simelue so I wrote this piece to let the ladies know how to have a stress free trip to this magical island.
You see, Simelue is part of Aceh, a province in Indonesia known for enforcing Sharia Law. It is a place you must only visit if you’re willing to take respect along for the ride. The local people are wonderfully kind and happy and also deeply entrenched in the faith of Islam. This means that they do things a little different to you and I and they can feel really uncomfortable with some of the behaviours that we consider ordinary.
In Simelue an unmarried man and woman don’t spend time alone or touch one another. They court through conversation and presence alone (it’s kinda adorable). Married couples are affectionate only in private so you’ll never see a public kiss or intimate touch. The women are covered with conservative flowy dress and men keep their shirts on too. When outside of their villages women are always in hijab to cover their hair.
As a westerner we aren’t expected to cover our heads but appropriate dress is key. Just imagine if you’d always lived in a place where people wore clothes and then suddenly a foreign group shows up and insists on doing everything naked. It would be totally weird and pretty uncomfortable right? That’s how our usual booty shorts, tank tops and g-string bikinis feel to them. Weird.
I came to think of clothing as a form of respect: the more you wear the more you show. When I left my resort I wore long flowing pants and a long sleeve shirt. I was only ever greeted with huge smiles and enthusiastic waves. The locals will love you for any effort to be part of the culture so learn a few words of Bahasa Indonesia and have a go at using them, even if you mess it up. And get ready for lots of selfies if you stop at a beach or hang in town.
Showing respect bleeds over in the surf too. I had a stack of Dkoko leggings and rashies with me so I could be covered from neck to ankle. At first I felt a little strange as I was so accustomed to being in a bikini but after experiencing no sunburn or nasty rashes between my thighs I realised what a blessing this was. I am now a convert and no matter where I am those leggings are coming with me!
After a while I’d see new western women arriving to the island who didn’t understand the culture and would come out in bootie shorts or tank tops and I would feel a little totally shocked to see their bare skin. As I got to know the locals better I came to understand how offensive it felt to them too. So ladies I tell you: if you’re coming to Simelue order yourselves some leggings and rashies or grab a couple t-shirts and please remember the rule of clothes: the more you wear the more respect you show.
The important thing to know is that there is no reason to be turned away by Sharia Law. The people on Simelue are some of the most loving, friendly and kind that I have met anywhere. As long as you are willing to clothe up the island is yours for the taking. There are waves where it will be near impossible not to learn how to get barrelled and if you come in shoulder season (see my recommendation below) you will be surfing with just a few people out.
There are many options on the island and a quick google will show you the way. I chose Mahi Mahi Surf resort as my home, as it is the most modern with the best food, hot water and AC and it sits right in front of the most consistent break The Peak. There are three resorts in front of a wave named Dylans, which is 30 minutes from the Peak and the most mechanical wave on the Island (see below) though they are more simple in nature. There are also many home-stays popping up around the Island though expect extremely basic accomodation without the bells and whistles.
Like anywhere in Indonesia, none of these waves are suitable for beginners. It is best to have some skills up your sleeve to come here. You should be able to paddle into your own waves, duck dive, go down the line and take care of yourself near reefs.
The Peak sits right in front of Mahi Mahi resort and is the most consistent wave. It is not below head high very often but is easy to paddle out to and has both a right and left option. The right is mellow. The left is super fast and can be hollow. Be warned that the peak is shifty and sometimes big sets come of nowhere and snap your board in half and then cut your head open with your own fins (yes this happened to me!) The beauty of the Peak is that if the right is crowded you can paddle over and take some lefts and vice versa.
Dylans is set inside a ridiculously beautiful bay and is a textbook perfect right hander. It gives off mechanical barrels on the right conditions and was where I learnt how to get proper barrelled. It never gets very big but can get wide if the swell is pumping. You can always sit on the end if the pack is tough and getting in and out is easy. There is no nasty end section and honestly: it is one of the best waves I have ever surfed to improve my game. If the swell is too big for the rest of the island this can get quite crowded. In the middle of the day I had it to myself more than once. For real.
If you want to get your big girl panties on you can head out on a boat to T-Bags and try your hand at some super-intimidating super-real barrels. The wave is always 2-3 times the size of Dylans as the island it is on faces south. I went out once and had an absolute blast and was pleased to come away unscathed. Many do not come away unscathed due to the wave ending on sharp reef. Two boards were snapped the day I went out. This is definitely the most beautiful place I visited in my time on Simelue: absolutely breathtaking and worth simply going to watch or snorkel.
An amazing fun option, Thailands is a big rolling left hander accessed by boat. It has a long gliding take off and occasionally walls up on the inside. Think gentle giant, it is a great place to practice being comfortable with size while still being safe.
There are many other waves that are fun on the right conditions: Alus-alus is a right hander over a slab that is a little bit like Dylans with super friendly locals. I never actually made it to One-thongs but I hear its a great left hand option when the swell is smaller. One of my fave spots was Monkey Trees, a more open left hander that is only 15 minutes up the road from the peak (and an epic scooter ride through gorgeous landscape). There are also many other waves: the benefit of staying at a resort like Mahi-Mahi is that they have multiple surf guides that will take you to the right place for you and boats to get you to T-Bag’s. You can also take a 3 day trip to the epic Banyak Islands where you’re sure to score world class breaks to yourself.
I was in Simelue for peak season and noticed that the larger swells didn’t seem to suit the island and there were more crowds about. I’m dying to return on shoulder season and have heard many times that off season is amazing there. Due to how close it is to the equator there are no troubles with trade winds so any time of year there is variable weather and usually light winds. It would be my recommendation to skip June July and August and try for the rest of the year instead.
There are many beautiful drives on Simelue so take advantage of scooters and get out there. There is a magical waterfall that we hiked above and swam for hours in a deep clear pool. It was one of my best memories. The local coffee is incredible so make sure you try it out and enjoy watching the unique way they brew it. Goats, chickens and water buffalo roam freely and are so damn cute (especially the baby goats). You’ll also want to try to pet one of the docile buffalo or perhaps see if you can ride on one- they’ll let you I promise.
Simelue is truly a magical place. Trading baggy pants for the usual sexy denim shorts is not what most of us are used to and at first that can feel like something has been taken away from you. Until you settle in, relax and let your eyes open then you can really see how much you’ve been given.
Written by Kate Duncan. All photos were given by Kate to Dkoko for this post. You can read Kate's website here
]]>“As well as being emotionally evocative, cloth is a tactile delight - and when we touch it, we feel.”
-- Cassandra Ellis, Cloth
For the past ten years, Dkoko has focused exclusively on designing and creating premium swimsuits. Now, we’ve decided to embark on a new project - designing our very own line of beachwear for women who love the sea.
For Dkoko’s premiere beachwear collection, we’ve designed basic pieces inspired by the timeless catchphrase “less is more” – which goes hand-in-hand with our sustainable vision to create durable clothing that lasts well beyond the season.
We want our designs to be worn as not just simple pieces of clothing, but special creations that evoke feelings and sensations when we wear them. With that in mind, we’ve carefully selected ultra-soft fabrics made from 100% certified organic cotton and hemp, so each garment becomes an experience of tactile delight.
Cotton, known throughout history as ‘white gold’, is hypoallergenic (meaning it doesn’t react against your skin), breathes better than synthetic fabrics, and is incredibly soft. Cotton is resistant when it gets wet, and stays cool in the Summer and warm in Winter. Like all fabrics, there’s a big difference between high and low-quality cotton, which is why we’ve chosen to use 100% certified organic cotton for our premiere beachwear collection.
Starting from untreated, natural seeds, organic cotton is grown without the use of any synthetic fertilizers. Organic cotton crop rotation and composting maintain the health of naturally moist soil by creating a biodiverse, balanced ecosystem. This makes organic cotton plants more resistant to pests and disease, eliminating the need for pesticides known to be both carcinogenic and neurotoxic.
Thanks to this cleaner cotton-growing process, farm workers are afforded a healthier work environment, and all uncontaminated plant waste can be used for other purposes, such as feed for livestock or cotton oil production.
Cultivated since 8000 B.C., hemp was the first plant used to create textiles, and it doesn’t require the use of any toxic pesticides or herbicides. Hemp is known as the most durable of all natural fibers, and it blends well with others, like cotton.
Hemp is a perfect fabric for summer clothing, since it adapts well to the climate and becomes softer with use.
All our clothing is locally made in our own sewing shop in Masaya, Nicaragua. We also only produce small quantities of each style so our designs are pretty exclusive.
Check our new collection and let us know what you think! We hope we love our new designs as much as we do.
All pictures for this collection were shot in Hacienda Ario in Manzanillo, Santa Teresa, Costa Rica.
Model & muse: Stunning Valentine Aimee photographed by Armando del Vecchio.
]]>Whenever I walk along the beach I’m reminded of the times I spent walking with my mom when I was a girl. We would walk along the warm beaches of Costa Rica, the tropical sun toasting our skin, the salty breeze tangling through our hair. Sometimes I would hold her hand, or run ahead to collect seashells shaped like quarter moons, the perfect pendants for my homemade necklaces.
“Walking on the sand is the best exercise for your legs,” she would tell me, advice I remember now each and every time.
When I was a little girl my mom held the vitality of a woman in her twenties. Bright green eyes, her frame tall, thin and strong. Smooth light brown hair and a sweet feminine smile. Beautiful, like a mermaid who escaped from the pages of a Greek fairytale.
On our many family vacations at the beach, she would say: “I’ll be back, I’m going to collect conch from the ocean!” And she would go off with her friends on a boat with no motor, diving deep to grab them from the sea floor with the strength of her own two lungs, there in the deep waters of Costa Rica’s Pacific, between Playa Sámara and Isla Chira. In a few hours, she would come back to us with a sack full of those giant shells and their delicious, sought-after flesh, as if they were trophies she plucked from the sea.
In my younger years, though I was still super shy, I observed and internalized the many attributes I admired in my mother, which in the future would become part of my personality.
I remember being seated in a chair, timid, in the corner of the room at a party, sheltering myself from the boisterous Latin festivities. My gaze settled toward the center of the dance floor, where I carefully scrutinized each of the people moving to the music. My eyes caught a glimpse of my mother, who danced with such grace, rhythm and joy that she looked like a sun shining so brightly that she darkened everything else around her.
My mom dances more beautifully than anyone, I whispered to myself, wishing with all my might that I would one day learn to dance like her.
Mami always pushed me to compete with the men in the palm tree climbing contests at the beach. And I knew I could swim in the ocean without a care in the world, because if a current carried me off, she could rescue me all by herself (which actually happened one day, in fact!).
She bestowed upon me the strength and confidence to believe in myself. To believe that anything is possible.
On the nights when I couldn’t fall sleep, she would tell me to close my eyes and imagine that I was light as a feather floating through outer space. She told me to visit all the planets, and I would see myself flying among the shooting stars and meteors, until I fell soundly asleep, every single time.
In these simple moments, my mother gifted me the creative imagination, sweet tenderness and sense of calm that little girls need to feel safe and secure.
When I would bring my homework back from school with complicated math problems, the first thing she would say was always, “This is so easy!” And she would sit with me to explain the logic behind how to solve them correctly.
With patience, she taught me that no matter how complicated a problem seems, there is always a simple solution.
Nowadays, I walk along the beach near my house, perhaps because my mom made me see that living near the sea is the most beautiful thing there is.
I feel the soft sand sinking beneath my feet while I watch crystal-blue waves break onto the shore, covering my toes with their weightless white foam. The sun illuminates the beachscape, seashells shine iridescent. The breeze blows through my hair and I breathe the salty air as it enters my body and cleanses me from the inside-out.
From somewhere, I hear a few familiar words reciting themselves sweetly in my mind, and I smile to myself, remembering my days as a girl, my mother’s lessons now my daily practice: “Walking on the sand is the best exercise…”
Written in spanish by Michelle Rodriguez and beautifully translated into english by Tara Ruttenberg.
]]>We went with no plans, no expectations, just out of pure gut feeling. Four girls off to live a collective dream of chasing waves, experiencing culture and open to whatever the universe has to offer.
First stop, Bali: a paradise island born from water and fire.
Once in Bali, we set up base camp on the cliffs of Uluwatu. We rented a few scooters and cruised through the sunny, winding and congested roads soaking up coastline and culture. We quickly learned a few important things such as; where to find the coldest Bintangs (local Balinese Beer), best points to view the sunset and where the best “pesta” (party) was. Every dawn we found ourselves looking out to the magnificent Indian Ocean, watching the waves roll in as if the cliffs were our amphitheater. This surreal and iconic wave originally opened the floodgates to surfing in Indonesia, now one of the premier surf destinations in the world. Its consistency, quality and perfection had us captured. We couldn’t stop surfing it.
After a few days “the ocean awoke”, as we surfers say when a perfect swell finally arrives and we had the opportunity to test our limits and push each other into bigger surf.
We gathered with the rest of viewers on the cliff and watched perfect big open faces wrapping around the point with only a few guys out surfing. It was a perfect window that we couldn’t pass. We grabbed our surf boards and ran quickly down the endless, old and sketchy stairs. We entered the mysterious and psychedelic cave, walked through the sharp and very alive reef and paddled out. As soon as our board hit the water we got dragged down the point and I lost sight of my friends. I could see a huge set on the way and for a moment I questioned myself: What are we doing out here? The quantity of water moving in made it seem as if the whole ocean was coming up over us. I finally made it out to the “outside” (passed the break), found my friends and we set a goal to catch one wave. That session gave us the adrenaline we needed to fuel us up and hold us over for a few side trips away from the coast and into the country.
Next morning instead of dawn patrolling the surf we hired a driver and went to explore the picturesque rice terraces of Ubud. We hiked around the ancient valley and took in the breathtaking, timeless, dramatic views at sunrise. After, we cruised through the busy and noisy art market palping the smell of incense by every step and admiring carved mythical figures made by the talented Balinese craftsmen. During our walk, we were surprised and amused by a small group of young girls making intricate face expressions as they practiced traditional Balinese dance with colorful fabrics.
The next day we visited the neighboring island of Nusa Lembongan, where we snorkeled in hidden coves and dove with majestic manta rays. Picture crystal clear turquoise water with an unreal world of marine life underneath.
We were ready to return to our home base of Uluwatu when an unexpected opportunity arrived in the form of an email. WaterWays, a surf travel agency that designs and conducts exclusive surf trips all over the world, invited us to visit two of their locations in exchange for creating promotional content. Their two locations; the small island of Rote and G-land off the coast of Java. Within 24 hours our bags were packed and we were on our way to a remote and secluded slice of paradise: the island of Rote. We stayed at a beautiful resort overlooking the Indian Ocean with a world class wave right in front. It was an epic week of surfing, snorkeling, biking, fishing and venturing around the island. But what truly made the island so special were the unending smiles and laughs of the local people.
Last stop on our Indonesian tour, G-land, a gnarly left-hand barrel.
The trip was booked and we were on the boat leaving Bali on our way to the promised land. There was no way out of this one. We didn’t know what we were really getting into we had only heard of this wave and by most seen it on surf films. As we wrapped around the stretch of the reef off the coast of Java we saw perfect endless lines of rolling lefts coming in from the horizon. We had arrived with the swell to G-Land. We stayed there for only four nights but it was the most memorable part of out trip. By using our patience, being selective and taking our time to study in depth the break we managed to not just surf it but catch the waves of our lives.
The trip started as an idea that quickly took shape and form and became a trip of a lifetime. Once in a while its important to reset and shake everything off, step out of the comfort zone and do something you have always wanted to do but never found the moment to do it. This trip taught us as a team of girls traveling together that we have the power and ability to do anything we put our mind to. We took our surfing to a next level by challenging each other into bigger surf and surfing higher demanding surf breaks. Realizing that this is the momentous life experiences we live for. The ones that make you feel alive, present and connect you to the internal voice who is constantly speaking to you and guiding you into new directions.
Written by Alejandra Kelly, pictures by Silvia Yom
Alex Kelly, a Spaniard, co-founded, co-owned, and operated On the Spot Surf school in El Palmar, Spain. She now works primarily with Surf with Amigas out of Costa Rica.
]]>I met Pepa around 7 years ago. A friend of mine invited me to go on a surf trip with her to Playa Negra, one of the best point breaks in the north of Costa Rica. My friend Tal was also a good friend of Pepa and that is the fist time I was lucky to meet her, in the dreamy beach where she lives.
Pepa in magical Playa Negra, Costa Rica
Playa Negra is home for Pepa, where she lives with her cute dog Chichi and her horse Lizano. Anyone that knows this beach, will know how beautiful it is and how perfect this wave gets. Not only she gets to surf Negra, she also lives the dream, traveling around the world working in different art projects.
Pepa charging in Negra
I’ve been following Pepa’s work for a while and I totally love it. The first time she collaborated with Dkoko, she made a cool frangipani mural artwork for one of our walls in our shop, in Jacó.
For this collection I wanted to have, for the first time, custom prints for our fabrics. Of course the first artist that came to my mind was Pepa.
Left: With Chichi next to her mural in our shop in Jacó. Right: A Selva bottom in the Morpho print.
I sent her my ideas and a couple of weeks after she sent me some options we worked on until she had ready our final fabric prints.
The first print called Morpho is inspired in my magical spirit animal, the Morpho butterfly. Some of you might think this is crazy but I love thinking these butterflies come to me to make me remember about something important. It might be my imagination, and it might not be related at all, but often when I’m in Costa Rica I have these amazing creatures flying next to me. Since I’ve been living in Australia I’ve had another blue butterfly coming often to me. There is no morphos in Australia but I like thinking these ones are their Australia equivalent.
Pretty top and Diamond one piece in Morpho print
The second print called Romance is inspired in the jungle. I wanted it to be dark with little bits of light, resembling the deep rainforest when the light enters into it through the folliage. I also wanted it to have a nostalgic and elegant feeling, Pepa managed to get exactly right for this collection.
Nostalgia rashguard and Classy bottom in Romance
I love both of the prints Pepa designed for Dkoko and I hope you liked them too!
You can see more of Pepa’s work in her instagram page here
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What happens when you are blessed with the luck of living between Costa Rica and Australia?
You create a collection of bikinis like this. Living on the other side of the world, I’ve designed this new collection for Dkoko. Romantic Jungle presents pieces with nostalgic hues and romantic hints inspired by the majestic wildlife of Costa Rica, mixed with the pastel tones and turquoise waters of the golden beaches of the Sunshine Coast of Australia, where I’ve lived this year.
Made with premium textured fabrics like soft velvet and rattan, this collection offers a wide variety of bikinis designed especially for surf and sport. Our new line features elegant one-piece suits, and a chic selection of trendy top and bottom designs, so every woman can create her own perfect bikini combination.
For the first time, we’ve partnered with artist Pepa Ivanoff to feature her original prints designed exclusively for Dkoko. As a new addition to our collection, we’ve designed our Sun Lovin’ line, offering high-cut styles, handwoven detail and a super sexy fit. The perfect pieces for catching sun and looking hot.
I hope you find the perfect bikini in Dkoko’s latest collection!
Check out our catalog below. If you want a product from the catalog that is not available in the website please contact us to info@dkoko.com to get it for you :)
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Do you know what I like the most about the longboard surfing community? That is not based on appearances. Each person is real to his own style and way of thinking.
Classic longboard is simple. The surfer that looks more natural and connected with the flow of the wave, is the best. Everything is based on style. You do not need to take the biggest wave, The only thing you need is to enjoy the ride to the fullest and harmonize with the wave.
Well, The Mexilogfest is all of this.
When you visit a classic longboard contest you come across a series of characters where simplicity is the best quality. The classic longboard contests are not publicized and usually the contestants, friends and family are the only people that participates of these events. t is a quiet environment where sharing and making new friends is the main goal.
The surfers who are invited to the Mexilog FEST have to meet with certain requirements in order to compete in this event. Number one: to love 100% the classic longboard style. And number two: the surf board to compete has to be a classic single fin log and they can’t use a leash.
The best score is awarded to the surfer with more style and grace.
A selected group of the best classic longboarders are invited to the pacific coast of Mexico for a week to enjoy an endless left wave and to share with the friendly people of Playa La Saladita.
This surf tournament is combined with art activities, live music, gastronomy and environmental education.
La Saladita beach is close to the city of Zihuatanejo in the State of Guerrero, Mexico. It is a white sand beach with golden sparkles and a rock bottom covered by seaweed and seagrass. The Sea turtles are the owners of these waters. On the shore palm trees and mango trees make the perfect set up.
What I like the most about the town of La Saladita is the people without a doubt. The locals are friendly and authentic. Always with a smile in their faces. They make you feel like home. In the small local restaurants along the beach you can enjoy fresh fish and seafood. 100% Mexican cuisine. The beach has several lodging options. Most of owners of these places are part of the same family. This creates a calm and safe environment.
The wave approaches the shore and begins to break in the flat bottom of stone forming a perfect left. Open, gentle and fast in some sections. The ultimate dream for any goofy footer like me!! This beach is a perfect place for surfing but also offers calm waters for swimming and snorkeling. The water is so clear and with the perfect temperature! As you can imagine, this place is a paradise.
This year was celebrated the fourth edition of the Mexilog fest and for the second time in La Saladita Beach. During the month of May and for a week competitors from more than 10 countries, such as France, England, Australia, Japan, Brazil, the United States and Mexico, get together on this beach to enjoy this particular event. The activities are divided between the surf contest, art and cinema exhibition, free yoga classes, surf clinic for children, live music and DJs.
I love the music that surrounds this event. Here, you don’t listen to the same genres of music that are heard today. All the opposite; the music of the 60s, 70s and 80s prevails. It's all a musical experience. This year we danced genres such as Boogie, Funk, Disco, Ska, Reggae, Soul, Electronic and Mexican. It's about supporting the Local talent with bands and DJs from the area.
As a classic longboard lover, I can tell you that the Mexilogfest is the perfect place to admire all my idols and people that inspire me. Surfers like Kassia Meador, Leah Dawson, Honolua Blomfield, Karina Rozunko, Kai Sallas, Jared Mell and the list goes on and on. These are some of the best women and men in longboarding.
The contest is held for a full week from 7am to 3pm. Giving a door from 3pm to 9pm to enjoy free surfing and to share waves with all these professionals.
Every day after the event ended, I grabbed my longboard and paddled to the point just to admire these artists do their maneuvers and dance in the waves.
During the nights and with the best live music all the attendees met at "Lourdes" restaurant, which is the headquarters of the event, to share and talk about how wonderful the waves were, how many turtles we saw in the water, the most funny wipe outs and just have a good time.
Here there is no room for egocentrism, for just good vibes and good surfing. The Mexilogfest is the best!!!!!
Written by Gabriela Rovira, soul surfer and lover of the classic longboard style.
Gabriela has more than 15 years enjoying surfing and she is currently traveling around the world to explore the best surf places for longboarding. This is the second time Gabriela has attended to the Mexi Log Fest and she is planning to come back every year.
A surf trip, driving overland, through Central America had been my dream for as long as I can remember. Probably since I started surfing, just after I moved to Costa Rica – now more than twelve years ago. I had the whole thing planned. I’d buy a car in California, find a dog to keep me company, and hit the open road on my own. Chasing those sweet southern swells to my insatiable soul-surfing heart’s content, camping on the beach along the way, and staying gone as long as I wanted – or at least until I ran out of cash. Whichever came first. I was 20 years old, hell-bent on hedonistic freedom, single as the day I was born and crazy enough to actually do it.
But as life would have it, more than a decade would pass before the stars aligned and all the pieces fell into place. And in the process, plans changed a little to fit my current life circumstances. There would be no dog. Pedro, my Venezuelan surfer-babe boyfriend, would be sitting shotgun as surf-partner-in-crime, personal security guard, self-appointed DJ and co-pilot with a mind for engine mechanics. We’d make the trip backwards, from Costa Rica north to California. In our badass converted 2004 Dodge Sprinter van, complete with solar panels, a big comfy mattress, and all the camping gear we would need. And as for staying gone as long as I wanted? Well, with real-life commitments of a thirty-something year-old surfer girl on the hustle to make ends meet while living dreams of my own design, a month on the road would just have to do.
We were woman and man with a van and that no-plan kinda plan.
Chasing dreams from south to north, we found waves, worries and wonder nearly every step of the way – as any great adventure would have it. After unfortunate visa hassles for Pedro and success bribing the van through customs at our first border crossing, I started the journey on my own, sleeping with a knife under my pillow in the otherwise empty parking lot of the immigration offices on the Nicaraguan side of the border. In the morning, I connected with surf sisters sprinkled serendipitously in both north and south Nicaragua. Blessed by their generosity, fold-out futons, strawberry donuts and safe parking lots, I found space to rest my head, sisters to hold my hand, and epic Nicaraguan off-shores at the tail-end of an early-season south swell. Among perfectly peaky waves and inspiring surfing women, I was grateful for the blessings in such an unexpected start to the trip.
Pedro and I would link back up in eastern El Salvador, but first I would cross the scariest borders in Central America in the van, alone. Quite the anomaly in countries where sexual assault, domestic violence and rape statistics are staggering.
‘Are you traveling alone?’ they asked me at 17 military check-points in three countries where well-armed men in uniform stepped filthy boots up into the van to search for contraband, look at my legs, ask for my phone number, and safeguard against other serious threats to national security.
‘I’m fine,’ I’d tell myself out loud each time I neared an armed checkpoint. ‘I’m doing great. I’m almost there. The van is safe. I am safe.’ Some days, affirmations are more like Prozac than prayer.
Entering El Salvador felt like a breath of fresh air in a place I knew as familiar. I scarfed a few pupusas and drove the windy, bumpy road to Las Flores. Despite the country’s heavy history of deadly civil wars and ongoing gang violence centered around urban areas, the eastern countryside feels mellow, and the locals reassure you that tourists aren’t targets for violent crime. They also suggest you keep your things locked up safe in the cement, bunker-like cabinas with bars on the windows, and that you never walk the beach after sunset. And while the locals are generally friendly and welcoming, there’s a tangible, understandable heaviness in the air, and a lot of male eyes on your skin as a woman walking the earth. The shorts I wear at home have no place in El Salvador, unless I’m willing to stomach the incessant stares right up on in there. That one, I unfortunately learned the hard way. The pussy-peepers, I call them, are ruthless in their resolve, infiltrating the soul-space of even the most tenacious feminists among us.
When I arrived to Las Flores, we were between swells and the waves had fallen flat. Pedro climbed into the van well after midnight, following a late flight and a long taxi ride. We savored a slow morning, checked the surf to no avail, and decided to get moving north to Guatemala. We’d make tracks to catch the swell in southern Mexico. After all, we only had three weeks left to make it all the way up to California.
The next morning an armed guard tapped the butt of his rifle on our window, asking us kindly to move the van so a cement truck could pass through the gates of the drive-thru zoo where we had stopped for a few hours’ sleep, halfway across Guatemala. As the day drifted with the reggae tunes of our road trip soundtrack, I reflected on the resentment in the bittersweet sense of gratitude I felt for my man’s presence by my side. The injustice of all the things I could do and all the places I could go, simply because I was no longer a woman travelling alone. The Western feminist in me couldn’t stand the fact that my freedom was still in so many ways contingent on the attitudes and actions of men – be they perpetrators, predators, partners or protectors. I write and fight and pray for the day that women everywhere can walk the world without changing our behavior to accommodate the presence of men, in any of their manifestations.
After hours in Semana Santa traffic (read: Latin America’s holy week before Easter, when everyone and their moms head to the beach) along the memorably bad, two-lane roads of the Pan-American Highway, and longer hours begging and pleading with the Mexican customs agents to accept our less-than adequate vehicle documents, we finally made it to Tapachula – a bustling Mexican border city just a few miles from the beach. We camped in the parking lot of a well-guarded hotel and showered in the sink of the shared lobby bathroom.
Street tacos never tasted so good.
As the swell began filling in, we traversed Chiapas and made our way into Oaxaca, mainland Mexico’s surfing mecca. We drove through the desert salt-lands of Salina Cruz, where visiting surfers are required to hire a local surf guide to access the community-managed waves. We parked the van to take a look before a salty local vibed us the wrong way and we decided to hit the road rather than pay to play. Luckily, Barra de la Cruz was just around the corner, welcoming us with open arms and chest-high waves on a dropping tide before sunset. We watched the sun dip behind the iconic boulders and cactus-covered cliffs, as the full moon rose out of the horizon above the sea. We chatted to an Australian couple who had been traveling to Barra to surf every season for the past 18 years, well before Rip Curl’s infamous Pro Search Somewhere in Mexico contest that put the spot on the map when it was still an unexploited wave with no international name. Our morning surf was as crowded as it gets, but locals were friendly and beginners stayed mostly down the line. I slid into a bunch of punchy, slow-rolling beauties, connecting turns all the way in towards the shore. After days of travel, all the uncertainties at Central American borders and strange homes for sleepless nights, the sea was the exhale I could finally settle into, digging my fins into the real start of the surf trip I had dreamed of for more than a decade. We had made it to Mexico.
At night we ventured out for fish tacos, sipped Coronas to the crooning rancheras blaring to the beat of the neon lights from the karaoke machine in the corner, and fell absolutely in love with all things Mexico. Quite unlike my Spring Break days with the girls in Cabo San Lucas when I was 18 and more than borderline alcoholic, that Corona was the only drink I’d had in five months and counting. I imagine this surf trip would have looked a hell of a lot different had I actually done it twelve years ago, at the height of my hedonistic party all night, wanna-be surfer girl lifestyle, and not now, as I was nearing 33 and living nearly 100% substance-free.
Further north, I played surfer’s girlfriend and photographer at the heavy barreling beach break at Playa Zicatela in Puerto Escondido, quite content to not be surfing there, while admittedly not at all stoked on the general debauchery in town on the busiest party weekend of the year. Soon enough, we traded the hustle-bustle of surf-city-by-the-sea for an off-the-beaten path sort of spot deep in a national park. On the dropping tide, we’d paddle across the river and beyond the adjacent jetty, as the ocean drew us out perfectly toward the peak. In the late afternoon, the sun set golden fire beyond the grass-thatched huts and tall palm trees. After endless hours in the sea, we bathed with a bucket of borrowed water and a hollowed-out half of a coconut – our private lovebird-bath beside the river. We watched the waning moon rise ceremoniously, glowing stoic between the cloud lines among an entire universe of stars. Our van-life neighbors, European and South American hippy-hearted souls, sang songs and played music in the early evening, with no other sounds in sight. We slept peacefully to the steady hum of the sea and made quiet love at sunrise as the waves thunder-crashed against the rocky headland. There in the van in a strange and beautiful land at the edge of the earth, we were more at home than we had felt in weeks.
As we continued northward, the swell picked up again on our second day in Nexpa, a surfy van-life safe haven where we camped by the river and hung the hammock between the palm trees. We had a fun morning session out at the point and I stretched into my yoga practice on a run-down cement platform with a mermaid painted on it, in the late-afternoon light beside the van. It was an idyllic surf paradise, with only a few restaurants and cabinas lining the beach, and van life neighbors whose stories and sensibilities paralleled our own mellow melodramas in search of warm sunshine and peeling offshore waves. I could have stayed a lifetime.
We got held up in La Ticla, where indigenous communities had set a three-day road block, demanding justice for their people when the government had heeded them no mind following the violent death of a local woman. What would eventually be a victory for the communities meant long hours waiting for safe passage for us. Luckily, we scored powerful head-high waves, shared some killer fish tacos with friends who just happened to be passing through, and learned about La Ticla’s unique surf tourism management model, where coastal lands are designated indigenous reservation and foreigners cannot live, own land, work, or run businesses. I reveled in knowing that La Ticla could be one of the few places on Earth where surf tourism didn’t mean selling out, and where wave-hungry foreigners could never colonize coastal lands for longer than a few weeks at a time.
Pedro’s barreling birthday beach break was a not-so-secret spot that shall still however remain unnamed, where we parked the van beside a beachfront restaurant run by hospitable cross-dressers with a habit for late-night dance parties in their underwear. I settled into my role as surf photographer with a little more joy this time, soaking in the crisp mornings and those first rays of sunlight warming the skin on my shoulders and the sand beneath my sarong. It was barrels for breakfast, van-made avocado tacos for lunch and afternoons spent organizing ourselves for the long trip ahead. As we waited out the swell that never delivered as we hoped it would, I watched my man in his element, loving every second of the heavy waves I was happy to have seen and not surfed. While I carried the history of my formative beach break girl in my self-compassionate heart, that addictive part of my surfing story was slowly transitioning into the past. Something significant had changed in me over the last few years of my surfing life, as I found myself no longer finding any joy in suffering for my waves in heavy conditions.
I believe there’s a shift that happens, sooner or later, in the life of every wild, wanderlust woman. Where the sorts of adventures we seek transition from high-adrenaline, danger around every curve, needing to taste the threat of death in order to feel alive kind of experiences, to the more everyday adventures, where we play around the edges of our comfort zone, yet no longer find fun in the hassles of extremely consequential risks gone wrong. Maybe it’s maternal-instinctual. Maybe our adrenals are so shot that we literally can’t take anymore. Maybe it’s just a part of growing up. Whatever the cause, it comes with a practiced maturity in knowing our own limits, even if only because we’ve gone a little too far a few too many times. And it comes with integrating life’s many lessons, even if we’re meant to learn them the hard way, sometimes. And as surfers, I believe that shift is self-definitive of who we are as women walking the world, chasing the waves that bring us joy and lead us on dream-inspired journeys we couldn’t plan for if we tried, empowering us to step up and into our sturdy foundation of self-love and creative expression as we wander, wise enough now to know the difference between dreams and just plain dumb. This trip, chasing waves through Central America, was the moment I recognized that subtle, fundamental shift in me.
Over the course of four long days en route to the US border, life would throw us a range of curveballs we could have never expected. First, our alternator died, and we had to wait three days for a replacement part, camped out in front of the mechanic shop in the middle of Magdalena, Jalisco. 300 miles later, we broke down again, this time in the black of night with no emergency lights, on a bridge of a two-lane highway with semi-trucks passing at exorbitant speeds, just outside Rosario de Sinaloa, the scariest cartel stronghold in all of Mexico. Digging deep into our well stream of resilience, we got towed to the toll station where we’d spend the night in the van on the highway, and wake up in the morning to watch women of the night climb in and out of the passenger side of the big trucks just passing through. While we waited to meet the mechanic and get back on the road, vulnerability found new meaning in my conscience as I imagined what a life like that must be like, and how strange it was to be sharing space with women whose worlds were otherwise so far from my own.
Crossing the border into Arizona, overland, from Mexico was an admittedly welcome sigh of relief. I photographed the wall stretching in either direction as far as the eye could see, contemplating the costs of security, dreams and freedom among all those superficial lines drawn in the sand.
Tired in our bones. Grateful in our hearts. Under the wire and in the space of adventure where dreams became real, we arrived to California the very next day, after stopping for a night in Tucson and celebrating a well-earned sunset over the cliffs in San Diego. We made it to Los Angeles just before midnight - both our final destination and immediate place of departure just 24 hours later, as we continued our adventure across the seas, two wanderlust warriors living the journey of life the best and only way we know how.
Writen by Tara Ruttenberg. Van pictures by Taya Photography/ @tayaphotography.
Tara is a writer, surfer, yoga teacher and graduate student of sustainable surfing tourism based in Santa Teresa, Costa Rica. She created Tarantula Surf as a space to share her stories and engage with alternative social paradigms. You can read more of her work at www.tarantulasurf.com and connect with Tara on social media: @tarantulasurf.
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