I spent my youth battling against compromise. I followed my passions with the unshakable tenacity of a heat seeking missile. I participated in only hardcore activities and I expected the things I spent my money on to furnish me with an uncompromising purity of design. All or nothing. Do or die.
That was then. I’m not old, in fact, I’m still quite young compared to many land tortoises and mountain ranges, but I’ve seen the world and experienced a lifetime of, uh, experiences. Not that much has changed, really. I still follow my passions with the heat soaking tenacity of an electric blanket, but I increasingly find myself searching for compromise. Compromise, in fact, was the inspiration for Ridgemont.
The fact is, I don’t often forge rivers, but I do cross the occasional puddle. I don’t climb mountains, but I regularly climb hills. I’ve never hiked the Appalachian trail, but I hike the trail by my house all the time. I hike lots of trails, and not once has a mountain suddenly sprung up in front of me.
You see what I’m saying? I want some traction. I want some water resistance. I want some durability, but I don’t want to look like I’m about to summit Denali. I go places and have adventures and I need great quality gear that won’t let me down, but I’m not exploring Mars. I’ll surely never explore Mars, so i don’t need boots built to survive a Martian winter, and blend in with the Martian natives.
I need to hike to the surf break, then go get a breakfast burrito. I need to walk my dog then go to the office. I want to go on vacation to far flung places, but I’ve got to navigate an airport before I can get there, which definitely doesn’t require more spikes than a football boot. I wanted great looking, well made, simply styled shoes and clothes.
I couldn’t find it so I made it. I named it Ridgemont.