No two sports are at farther ends of the cultural spectrum than precision-engineered golf and rulebreaking skateboarding. No, that’s not an opinion—that’s fact.
Think about it: when you think of golf, you think of manicured greens, country club codes, and whisper-level etiquette. Fine-tuned wrist inflection. Backswings measured to the millimeter. Uptown buttoned-up tradition and WASP-y decorum make for an outdoor hobby created just so men could go on walks together. Ok, that part’s not fact, but it’s fitting, isn’t it? When you think of street counterculture, it’s curbs turned launchpads, scraped knees, and coordination shaped by crash landings.
Forged out of West Coast rebellion and solidified in East Coast attitude, the irreverent style largely shaped by skateboarding turned individualism into athleticism—minus the uniformity, that is. But in fashion’s latest obsession with stitching together the far ends of juxtaposing universes, what reads like an unlikely matchup on paper feels oddly inevitable in practice. Oh, please, it’s 2025—let’s stop pretending opposites don’t attract. In the case of J.Lindeberg x Kangol, it’s par for the course.
On one end, there’s J.Lindeberg: Stockholm-born and performance-bred. Renowned for its razor-sharp tailoring and technical precision, the Swedish athleticwear label has long walked the line between fashion-forward silhouettes and sport-specific function. Launched in 1996 with the goal of shaking up traditional golfwear, the brand quickly earned a reputation for putting a sharper spin on clubhouse classics—replacing khakis and cable-knits with bold color-blocking, stretch-infused fabrics, and signature Scandi streamlined silhouettes. Whether on the green, the slopes, or striding into a private members’ club with a 9-iron and a dinner reservation, J.Lindeberg’s never really played by the sportswear rulebook but just dressed like they authored the thing.
On the other end, you have Kangol: hailing from Britain (not Australia, kangaroo logo aside), popularized in…well, everywhere. A storied streetwear staple with lineage built on 80s hip hop music videos (LL Cool J in a bucket hat is practically canon), 90s warehouse raves in the UK underground (can you hear the Moby?), and 2000s courtside style snaps of NBA front rows (before tunnel fits were a thing), it’s a brand that’s survived trend cycles by refusing to be pinned down: part rave, part rap, part retro, and always a little bit rogue. Whether you’d spot it at a Bushwick day party, a Brixton block rave, or in a behind-the-scenes shot from a Missy E. video shoot, they’ve always been less about “proper stance” and more “don’t touch my vinyl.”
Which is maybe why the J.Lindeberg x Kangol capsule doesn’t feel like a contradiction, but a timestamp. In a cultural moment where boundaries are blurry and dress codes are theoretical at best, the idea of golf meeting street isn’t disruptive. It’s honest. To bring it all to life, the Fast Lane campaign taps a cast who live in the rule-free in-between.
A sport that rewards defiance, reveres individuality, and never cared much for a coach’s whistle, skate’s soft anarchy is what drew New York skater and campaign star, Marcello Campanello to the halfpipe. “Skating was the one sport that nobody could tell you what to do. You were just in the streets.”
The irony, of course, is that his current uniform includes technical golfwear engineered for elite-level performance. But that contradiction is kind of just the point. “Breakups, deaths, a bunch of shit—skating is the one thing where you're just doing that.”
So what if that “doing” now happens in a zip-off jacket? The energy is still DIY…even if the fit comes with high-tech storm-proof lining and stretch panels.
The same spirit runs through Spoety, a South Central-born model and cultural curator who grew up in a world where golf wasn’t part of the picture. “Nobody I knew golfed. It wasn’t a thing in our hood,” he says. Now, it’s less about the course and more about the clarity. “You free your mind when you swing. If you're overthinking, you're gonna chunk the shit out of it.”
Finding your own swing without a blueprint is something UK golf content creator, Mia Baker, knows firsthand. A self-described “not super street” late bloomer, Baker found freedom in an unexpected place after coming to the game during lockdown. After struggling to find women’s golf shoes in 2020, Mia became an advocate for inclusion by necessity—and an avid golfer by obsession. “In the 21st century, women should be able to start a sport. You should at least have the choice.”
Call it style, call it access, call it a swing at something new—that’s the whole point.
The result? A collection that looks just as right on a Ridgewood skater pushing through SoHo as it does on a golf obsessive locking in a tee time at Hudson Yards. A bucket hat with a zip pocket. A rainproof jacket with zip-off sleeves. A harness for clubs that looks like it might also carry vinyl. A mashup of uniforms reworked for people who never wanted one in the first place.
Dropping August 6, the J.Lindeberg x Kangol collab isn’t here to play by the rules. A high/low culture clash, the collection feels perfectly on pace with where fashion is now: somewhere between the clubhouse and the curb. It’s no surprise we’re in an era of code-mixing: track pants are getting tailored, prep is worn distressed, and performance wear is styled with absolutely no intention of performing.
But luckily, this capsule doesn’t ask you to pick a side—it just asks if you’re in motion.
Read on to discover the perspectives and personalities behind the drop.
Spoety: You're the pro golfer, Mia. Kick us off.
Mia Baker: I ain't a pro. (Laughs) My love of golf started in 2020, as I experienced a barrier when I started playing the sport. I thought you had to wear golf shoes in order to play golf properly, and I was struggling to find them, so it began as a way for me to increase accessibility and visibility in the sport. Then, I became obsessed with the swing. My logical brain loves the technicalities of it all—from your head to your feet. There’s so much beauty and elegance when it all comes together.
S: I don’t even know if I can talk about how I started.
MB: Is it that bad?
S: It's not bad at all, it's just...business. I grew up in South Central LA. No one around me golfed, and if they did, they kept it a secret. There were courses around us, but it wasn’t predominant in my community. It was always just basketball, making music, blah blah blah—that’s how everyone thinks they’re going to make it.
It wasn’t until 2015 that I got hip to golf through my friend’s coach, and she taught me basic form: backswing, feet, and hand placement. When I first started, it felt awkward and foreign, but it quickly turned into just natural swings. After the pandemic, I went to my first tournament and didn't know what the hell I was doing, but I was having a great time. That was when I realized it's not just swinging the club. In the past two years, I’ve started going with my friends, just pulling up to par threes, and I do this damn near every day now. If I wake up too early before work, I go hit the par three. If I get off of work, I call my friend, and we go hit an 18 or the par three.
It's fun, it's a relief, it's really therapeutic. I like it because it gets me away from all the other shit that I’ve got to go through: bills, job, friends, family. You free your mind when you swing because if you're overthinking, you’re going to chunk the shit out of it.
Marcello Campanello: Like Spoety said, skating keeps my mind off things. I played a lot of sports growing up—basketball, soccer, football—but I got into skating through a friend. I started really liking it because it was the one sport that nobody could tell you what to do; you were just in the streets. I always had coaches growing up, and I hated it—people telling me what to do, I was like, "Nah." I just stuck with skating because of all the people I've met, the places I've gone. I've been through breakups, deaths, and a bunch of shit. Skating is that one constant.
Getting that one land is everything, so shooting the ball would probably be the same. That one time you get close, you're like, "Damn, this is why I do it, and that's why I'm going to keep doing it.”
S: Yeah, when I was growing up, I was judged highly in my community for skateboarding, which is crazy. Then, all of a sudden, Tony Hawk comes out, Kareem Campbell's on there, and all black kids wanted to pick up a skateboard. It's okay now, but why was it not okay in the beginning? It is always judged at first. We’ve got skateboarders that golf, too—Sean Malto is a beast.
For me, it was also because I wasn’t supposed to do this thing or I wasn’t allowed, so I was going to do it anyway—that's just always been my thing. Say I can't play football? I'm playing it. Once golf came into play, I was like, "Oh, I'm about to do this shit. It's going to be fun." It's a great game. I meet cool people. It's a good network. It's fun. Even when you're by yourself, you don't even need anybody. That's why I like it—it's like skating—you really don't need anyone.
MB: Yeah. I like that you don't have to rely on anyone. You can just do it whenever you want. At first, I felt very uncomfortable going to a golf course, so I spent so much time just hitting a golf ball into a net in the garden. That's where my love for golf came from—I was obsessed with the swing, but I felt like I needed to be at a certain level before I could literally leave the house.
MC: I used to just stay in my parents' driveway and skate a bunch because I felt embarrassed going to the skate park and getting in people's way who were trying real tricks. But then you make friends, stop caring, and then you get better. That's just the flow of things.
S: You’ve got to get out on the course. And as soon as you do, you realize that, “shit, everybody is trash.” Everybody practicing, you know what I'm saying? I think this same hustle is something that is [embedded] in the [DNA] of Kangol. I've been seeing Kangol since I was a child. My uncle used to wear Kangol hats faithfully, so when they asked me to do the shoot, I was like, "Hell yeah," because my uncle passed away a couple of years ago, and it’s nostalgic.
MC: That’s sick. Definitely a way to honor your uncle.
S: It was an honor to be a part of that. As for J.L, since I've been golfing, I’ve noticed younger dudes with a big J.L on the back of a button-up. I was like, "Hey, what's that?" A lot of people are trying to move to the streetwear side of things, and that’s not always been allowed in golf, but I feel like J.L is balancing both.
MB: I'd also wear it not just on the course. I like the versatility. I can throw on a hoodie wherever, whereas hoodies used to be a massive no-no in golf. Now it's just normal, which I prefer. There's a time and a place to dress up. I like comfort, but don't want to sacrifice the way I look as well whilst I'm doing it.
S: If I go to the country club and we’ve got to wear collared shirts and tuck them in, cool. But my pants are still not going to be tight around my thighs. I like to be comfortable.
MC: Always the flyest one on the field.
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