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Twin town

March 05, 2010 | Words By: howies

new-range-openerCheck out our new range… Nice!

Save a few trees and download the new catalogue. Get browsing…
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howies LOOK

March 04, 2010 | Words By: howies

howies-look-openerSo we shoot a lot of catalogues in a year.
We sit on so many images that don’t get used that we have created a lovely blog of them.
Check it out.

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We’re listening

March 02, 2010 | Words By: howies

m-newbaysurfthermal-cyan-10lAfter many years of hearing tales of people wearing our Merino base layers under wetsuits for extra warmth when they surf off our chilly shores, we have finally designed one specifically to wear when you’re surfing.

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The aftermath

November 24, 2009 | Words By: Angela

beer and cakeThe dust has settled, we’ve almost caught up on missed sleep, and all evidence of the Drift party has been cleared away. Well, almost all. Visitors to the Howies store in Bristol may notice a lingering aroma of beer…

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t-shirt of the month

October 19, 2009 | Words By: howies

landing_image_skids

Some say they are pointless.
Others that they are childish.
Mum always told you not to “ruin those tyres”. Ha. But can you remember the satisfaction you felt when you finally wore them through to the innertube?
That was the mark of a true champion…Yeah skids are for kids.
But that’s why we do ‘em.

October’s T-shirt of the Month is ‘Skids are for kids’?

Del and lazy days

October 19, 2009 | Words By: howies

tumblr_krr1hkiwiw1qa75h4o1_500Del da Foster is showing us his 18 speed bicycle. It lies back on a sand dune in the town of Dossen, and the sun shines glorifying its beautiful yellow tone. All his belongings - skateboards, porcelain cats and three flying wall ducks - are arranged to defy physics over the back wheel. “It does instant wheelies if you pull up on the handle bars” he pulled upwards every so lightly. And the bicycle reared back like a stallion. “Cool” we all say. 

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more and more days

October 19, 2009 | Words By: howies

tumblr_krr1ddccxp1qa75h4o1_500The ferry wasn’t going all that fast - flocks of seagulls would fly on ahead, sit and watch me and Bodean float past in the dark, two heads in an endless row of port holes. Sitting up in there in ‘Le Bar’, a name which seemed to smoke of irony considering the surrounding English passengers, or maybe it was the French just being Frenchies. Then the boat pulls up in Roscoff, North Brittany. And so it goes…

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