Opinion & Analysis

Chasing The Dream: A Short Story

Published

10 years ago

Sep 2, 2016

Editor’s Note: This short fiction story is one of a collection that appear in the book “Lessons from the Golf Guru: Secrets, Strategies, and Stories for Golf and Life,” a unique compilation of lessons and stories for the game that provide help with more than just the number you put on the scorecard.

—

“I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you for many months longer, and before I die I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life, have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now living. And it is about this that I wish to speak with you.”

— Old Major, Animal Farm by George Orwell

I first met him at Riviera in 1994, the historic club in Pacific Palisades, California that has served as host site of PGA Tour events, numerous major championships, and probably most notably, the 1948 U.S. Open won by Ben Hogan.

He wore a plain white jumpsuit similar to what you see on the caddies at The Masters, a pair of old sneakers, a faded green cap with the club’s signature “R” on the front of it, and had a dirty white towel hanging out of his back pocket.

He stood apart from the rest of the caddies, mostly younger men in their twenties, who were milling around awaiting their assignments and ribbing each other about their potential draws for the day. At first glance, he appeared to be in his mid-fifties, but as I walked closer, the picture became less clear.

He wore a patchy, closely trimmed beard that partially concealed a scar on his left cheek and just the hint of an old-school Afro peeked from the adjustment loop at the back of his cap. The aloofness I first mistook as a measure of respect from the other caddies, as well as a sign of his comparative advanced age, was now contrasted by a lean, muscular physique and youthful eyes that left me unsure whether he was fifty-five or closer to thirty-five. He was not quite six feet tall, but for some reason I had the feeling I was looking up to him even though I was at least 2 inches taller.

He was standing near my bag, which had been brought down from the parking lot by the valets, and as I approached, he looked up from a small notebook that he had been writing in. He had a slightly gap-toothed grin that’s warmth all at once put me at ease, yet left me feeling strangely deferential.

“Name’s Major,” he said in a low velvety baritone that immediately brought to mind images of Barry White or Don Cornelius. And at first, that was all he said. He let it hang there like he was going to say more, but suddenly, remembering my manners, I realized the pause was a respectful space left for my reply.

“Frankie,” I said as I reached out my hand, followed haltingly by, “Nice to meet you. Are you…”

He cut me off as I stumbled for the right words to the question I didn’t exactly know how to ask. “I’m your man,” he said, returning my handshake with a grasp that was firm enough to suggest a level of self-assuredness one wouldn’t expect from a man who carried someone else’s golf clubs for a living.

It was a warm June day and I was playing the prestigious club near Los Angeles for the first time with my roommate Clark, a club professional whose boss had arranged the opportunity. I was 25, not yet ready to grow up, and chasing the dream; at least that’s what I typically told people as I bounced from mini-tour events, one-day qualifiers, local pro-ams, and Q-School every fall in between stints tending bar or serving time behind the counter at any local club willing to hire on a vagabond, wannabe touring professional who was not yet willing to give up on his ability to play for a living. Even when pretty much everyone else had.

And while I had attempted to play on and off since quitting college a few years earlier, I’d never had anyone but a buddy actually carry my bag, so I was somewhat unsure about how things were supposed to go down, as well as a little intimidated by the atmosphere of such a historic venue. I definitely didn’t want to appear as if this was my first rodeo.

I reached for my bag to pick it up when Major said, “Allow me sir,” in a way that was polite, but more command than request.

“Oh, I was just going to the range,” I said. “We don’t tee off for about 40 minutes still.”

“I know,” he said, again letting it hang there as he picked up the bag and turned to walk in the direction of the range, which was down the hill a bit from the large clubhouse that was perched on a bluff overlooking most of the course and the practice facilities. He didn’t look back, but when I hesitated for a moment, he called back to me over his shoulder.

“Coming sir?” he asked in a way that woke me from the slightly self-conscious state of apprehension I had found myself in since our arrival.

I hurried to catch up with him, deciding I should get to know this somewhat enigmatic man who would be toting my bag for the next four to five hours.

“How long you been at Riviera, Major?” I spat out as I struggled to keep pace with his long deliberate strides, hoping to get more than a two- or three-word sentence out of him.

“A fair spell,” he said, continuing the pattern of conserving his words. His voice, while exceedingly deep, had a hint of the genteel Old South beneath the surface. It was a tone that suddenly seemed befitting of someone in his profession, and of the sport, but one you’d more expect to hear in South Carolina, not Southern California. I decided he must have been just another one of the millions of transplants that LA seemed to attract annually from small towns around the country like migrating birds looking for warmer weather.

“Ever carry for any of the guys on tour?” I continued, figuring that considering his age and the fact that Riviera had been a regular tour stop for years, he might have had the opportunity once or twice.

“No sir,” he said, but then he continued, “unless you happen to be on tour.”

“Me, no, well, not the actual PGA Tour yet anyway,” I said, chuckling self-consciously, assuming he meant it facetiously, but he gave no hint of a smile.

“I do play professionally,” I continued, suddenly wanting him to understand that I had game and wasn’t just another chop whose bag he was going to be carrying while doing his best just to stay awake during the round.

“I’m working at it, and my game’s getting close. Now if I could just figure out now how to get out of my own way and string together more than a couple of good rounds…” I said as if that explained everything. “Was hoping you might be able to help me out with that one, Major,” I added somewhat sarcastically and with a slight smile as I glanced in his direction.

“Mayyyybe sir,” he said, surprising me with his earnestness and drawing it out without any hint of humor in his voice. “As I said, I haven’t caddied for any of the guys on tour,” he continued, “but I did work a spell on the ladies’ tour many years ago, carrying for Kathy Whitworth.

“Wow,” I said. I knew Whitworth had won, and won a lot back in the ’60s and ’70s, but at the moment it didn’t occur to me to consider how unusual it must have been to have a minority caddy at the height of the civil rights movement. Instead, my mind switched back to my earlier conclusion (about his age), and I decided my original impression had been correct. He was probably in at least his middle 50’s, if not older.

“She won a lot of tournaments back then,” I said. “Quite a few majors too, if I remember correctly. Is that how you got your name?”

“Well … something like that,” he said with a bit of a faraway look. “Ms. Whitworth and I did string together quite a few, but the name was given to me long before that Mr. Frankie…”

“Here we are,” he said abruptly, cutting off that line of conversation by handing me my sand wedge. “Let’s start with the small stuff. A man who can’t be bothered with the little things can’t be trusted with the big things.” He suddenly boomed out with emphasis, “It’s all about the little things.”

We went through the bag rather quickly, with him handing me a new club every five or six balls without me asking and so I didn’t question the commanding, yet strangely calming presence next to me. All the while, he shared little doses of wisdom and what sounded like famous quotes without attributing them to anyone in particular. It was strangely reminiscent of a tape I’d once seen of John Wooden running a basketball practice at UCLA, rather than anything I’d ever experienced with a golf coach, let alone a caddy.

“Every good shot’s like a small win, Mr. Frankie, even on the range.”

“We need small wins before we can get the big wins.”

“Remember the small wins, Mr. Frankie.”

“More magic in all those small wins than all those heroic shots.”

“Every challenge is a chance to build more confidence.”

“It’s a game of confidence, Frankie, and confidence is a verb, it’s an action you take.”

He kept at it, and I kept hitting it pretty well, wondering if he was impressed or not, until we got to the driver. The first one looked like a topped shot, but I could swear I hit it on the face. The next veered wildly off-course to the right, more like the wicked slice of a 30-handicapper than someone who claimed to play for a living.

“Where’d that come from?” I said, wanting to laugh. But with my confidence suddenly a bit shaken, I just teed up another. It was no better, only this time it hooked sharply left.

“Over-corrected, I guess,” I said, muttering the lame explanation, while fighting back an unexpected sense of panic that was beginning to wash over me. I quickly teed up a fourth, and then a fifth, sixth, and seventh, and watched as shot after shot veered wildly in a different direction.

“What in the world is going on?” I said, almost shouting. Less than five minutes ago, I had privately wished Q-School was a mere three or four days away instead of months, and now I was looking around nervously to see who was watching this embarrassing display. I was glad that the range was empty aside from Clark, who had taken a spot three or four stalls away along with his caddy but had his back to me.

“Dammit, Frankie!” I did shout after the next one, slamming the club on the ground as yet another ball flew wildly from the face of the driver that I had sworn was my salvation not a round ago. I had thought I had finally found a big stick I could trust, one I had developed some confidence in, yet in the space of three minutes it had abandoned me like a scorned lover.

“Confidence is a fragile thing, Frankie,” Major interrupted, “especially if one chooses to make it conditional. Holds up much better if it’s an action you take, rather than being reliant on results.” And in that moment, I realized he had been silent throughout my onslaught of errant drives and the resultant fits of temper I was displaying. He had stopped offering the subtle encouragement or the little pearls of wisdom he had been serving up only moments before. He reached for my driver, and I gave it to him, almost too eager to get rid of it, like someone who had reluctantly agreed to handle a large snake for the first time.

He took the club from my hands, raised the face of it up to his eyes, and inspected it for a second, then asked me to take a look. There it was, as plain as day. A crack running all the way down one of the scoring lines. I had caved in the face of the club, and only at this angle could I now see that the face of the club was slightly concave, something I couldn’t perceive looking down at it from above.

“The important thing to remember is that whether or not we are confident is a choice we make, and it shows up in the actions we take in every moment. It does not need be tied to results,” he continued, but the sudden wave of relief that had come over me was so complete that I hardly heard him. The realization that the wayward shots I had been hitting weren’t the result of some sudden flaw in my golf swing, but rather a broken club, left me feeling effervescent, and the embarrassment I had been feeling only seconds before seemed suddenly silly. These feelings were quickly followed, however, by the realization that I wouldn’t have a driver for my first-ever round at Riviera, one of the longest and most demanding courses on tour.

“A 4-wood’ll be just fine, Frankie,” Major said, interrupting my thoughts matter-of-factly as if I had been speaking them aloud. “You hit her a good 240. That’ll be enough.”

“I guess it’ll have to be,” I said, reaching for it to hit a few more shots just to reassure myself the swing was still there. “Let’s go chip and hit a few putts, Major,” I told him as I turned instinctively to put the 4-wood back in my bag. “We’ll be up before long, and I want to get a feel for that famed Kikuyu grass I’ve always heard about.”

“Allow me sir,” he said, taking the 4-wood, picking up the bag, and turning to head in the direction of the practice green all in one motion, once again without another word or a glance back. Only this time I followed without hesitation…

Club Junkie

Tour Edge Exotics mini driver review + TaylorMade Spider ZT Max first look – Club Junkie

Published

6 days ago

May 28, 2026

Brian Knudson

On this episode of Club Junkie, I put the new Tour Edge Exotics Mini Driver to the test and break down the performance, forgiveness, distance, and where it fits compared to a traditional driver or strong fairway wood. If you have been curious about adding a mini driver to the bag, this one is worth a look.

I also dive into the new TaylorMade Spider ZT Max putter that was recently spotted and discuss the growing zero torque putter trend. Plus, there is a closer look at the new Project X Titan Yellow shaft showing up on the PGA Tour and what makes it different from other profiles currently out there.

Opinion & Analysis

AVL: We’re talking about practice! My best tips for taking your game to the course

Published

1 week ago

May 26, 2026

Andrew Von Lossow

With the beginning of June on the horizon and courses rounding into peak condition for the season, it’s time to hone the finer skills that often get rusty over the winter. More sunlight also means more time to get out on the course and work on your game.

Whether it’s the practice green or the driving range, there’s always something to improve—whether you’re enjoying the fresh air or preparing for a weekend game or tournament. You can work on drills or freestyle around the green, and friendly competition is a great way to sharpen your skills.

While there are endless ways to get better at golf, I’m going to focus on practicing around the green. Let’s take a look at a few things to keep in mind as we head into the summer months.

Drills

This way, you create a balance between structured drills and real-world scenarios, so you’re not confined to “perfect” situations. For example, hitting the same three-foot putt over and over is good for repetition, but after a while, it becomes less interactive for your brain.

Next, I’ll hit a number of 15–25 foot putts in a random fashion, then circle back to repeat the short putt drills with and without the training aid.

This breaks up the rhythm of hitting short putts with the training aid. When you hit the same short putts over and over, it’s easy to get into a groove—which is great for the drill, but not reflective of actual course play. While finding a rhythm is fundamental for drills, I like to introduce variation with longer putts to keep things realistic.

Game Mode

Once you’ve established a foundation with drills, it’s time to simulate on-course scenarios. This is where a few practice games come in handy.

One that I’ve been enjoying lately involves putting 10- to 15-footers with two balls. If I make the putt, great! If I miss, I pull the missed ball back a putter length. Suddenly, that little tap-in becomes a nerve-wracking three-footer—at least at first. As you get better at this game, those three- and five-footers become much more comfortable and routine.

It may sound cliché, but each shot is just what it is—it’s how we react that makes the difference. I like this game because it blends the pressure of on-course putting with the consequence of leaving yourself a much longer putt than usual.

Another game I like is one I recently learned from Brad Faxon. Place three tees in a line at four different locations around the hole: one at 3 feet, one at 6 feet, and one at 8 feet. The 3- and 6-foot putts count as par, and the 8-footer is for birdie.

This game keeps you focused on scoring and helps you get into a competitive mindset. You can even think about this putting game while you’re on the course. I just started playing it, and last week I couldn’t get better than two under par.

Competition

Match play, a game of 21, or simply seeing who can make the most one-putts (with a small prize on the line) are all great ways to simulate real on-course pressure. Recently, I played in a putting contest where one competitor made back-to-back 30- and 50-foot putts. As they say, expect your opponent to make every putt—and he nearly did. That’s impressive, and it’s something you see on the course, too: you have to stay committed to your game plan, no matter what.

When it comes to practice, it’s important to blend feedback from recent rounds with the fundamentals you want to reinforce. Drills, games, and competition—from the driving range to the putting green—form the backbone of skills you’ll rely on during actual rounds.

Finding the right balance is something we’re all working on, one practice session at a time. With the beginning of June on the horizon and courses rounding into peak condition for the season, it’s time to hone the finer skills that often get rusty over the winter. More sunlight also means more time to get out on the course and work on your game. Whether it’s the practice green or the driving range, there’s always something to improve—whether you’re enjoying the fresh air or preparing for a weekend game or tournament. You can work on drills or freestyle around the green, and friendly competition is a great way to sharpen your skills. While there are endless ways to get better at golf, I’m going to focus on practicing around the green. Let’s take a look at a few things to keep in mind as we head into the summer months.

Drills

From the driving range to the practice green, it’s important to incorporate drills into your routine. Years ago, I spent a weekend working on my short game with James Sieckmann. He recommended doing drill work for 5–10 minutes, then returning to your main practice. This way, you create a balance between structured drills and real-world scenarios, so you’re not confined to “perfect” situations. For example, hitting the same three-foot putt over and over is good for repetition, but after a while, it becomes less interactive for your brain.

My approach is to use a putting trainer with a narrow gate for the ball to pass through, or simply place tees just outside the width of the ball. I’ll hit a series of four putts through the gate for three sets. Then, from a similar distance, I’ll hit four putts without the training aid and repeat that sequence three times. Next, I’ll hit a number of 15–25 foot putts in a random fashion, then circle back to repeat the short putt drills with and without the training aid.

Game Mode

Once you’ve established a foundation with drills, it’s time to simulate on-course scenarios. This is where a few practice games come in handy. One that I’ve been enjoying lately involves putting 10- to 15-footers with two balls. If I make the putt, great! If I miss, I pull the missed ball back a putter length.

Suddenly, that little tap-in becomes a nerve-wracking three-footer—at least at first. As you get better at this game, those three- and five-footers become much more comfortable and routine. It may sound cliché, but each shot is just what it is—it’s how we react that makes the difference. I like this game because it blends the pressure of on-course putting with the consequence of leaving yourself a much longer putt than usual.

Competition

Competition during practice is when drills and games come to life, and you start to see results. For me, nothing beats a putting contest with a friend or two. In the right setting, these contests can become talking points for the whole season. Match play, a game of 21, or simply seeing who can make the most one-putts (with a small prize on the line) are all great ways to simulate real on-course pressure. Recently, I played in a putting contest where one competitor made back-to-back 30- and 50-foot putts. As they say, expect your opponent to make every putt—and he nearly did. That’s impressive, and it’s something you see on the course, too: you have to stay committed to your game plan, no matter what.

Equipment

Seoul Sensibilities: Is Korean golf fashion starting to shape the world?

Published

2 weeks ago

May 22, 2026

James Chang

For Korean golfers, we always look forward to the last of the kkot-saem-chu-I for the true start of a new golf season. The term refers to a cold snap, but literally translates as “winter being jealous of the flowers beginning to bloom, thus lashing out one final time before surrendering to spring”.

A rather poetic mouthful packed into a short expression.

Koreans can be like that. Understated, yet oddly expressive at the same time. And nowhere is this more true on the golf course and in our golf bags. In fact, I suspect many Korean golfers look forward to new apparel and accessory drops more than they do actual equipment launches each year.

At this point, Korean golf fashion may exist on its own timeline. (courtesy of @seonbi_golfer)

There is ample evidence to support that suspicion. Korea is the world’s third-largest golf market behind the United States and Japan, yet its appetite for golf apparel exceeds that of both countries combined. Recent estimates suggest that Korea accounts for nearly 40 percent of the global golf apparel market, placing it among the world’s most influential golf fashion markets and punching well above its size.

Simply, we care deeply about how new golf clubs look and feel, but enjoy looking good while swinging them even more.

Golfers in the West may laugh and say that golf is played on a course, not a fashion runway. Perhaps. But what’s the harm in trying to look and feel good, if the added self-confidence can help actual performance? It certainly seems to have worked for Jason Day, who may have unlocked a new stats category: dormant strokes gained. Coincidence?

During the COVID-era, estimates placed the market near $9 billion, an astonishing figure for a single country.

As a proud member of Gen X, I’ve witnessed the highs and lows of golf fashion firsthand. The pleated trousers and wing-tipped shoes of Jack Nicklaus, the stylish plus-fours and knickers of Payne Stewart, the baggy black trousers and fitted mock-necks of Tiger Woods, and the thigh-hugging athletic tailoring of Rory McIlroy. Golf fashion, like the golf swing itself, has rarely stood still.

But nowhere have those trends shifted, evolved, and been scrutinized quite as relentlessly as in Korea. Here, golf fashion moves faster than fairway gossip, and consumers dissect brands with a level of discernment that can be both impressive and mildly terrifying. New brands are studied, judged, embraced, or dismissed with startling efficiency.

The result is a consumer base with one of the sharpest eyes for quality and authenticity anywhere in the world. It is difficult to quantify, but easy to recognize. Clean lines without trying too hard. Luxury mixed with utility. Trend awareness balanced by restraint and purpose.

It’s golf fashion shaped by one of the world’s most style-literate cities, something I like to call Seoul Sensibilities, referring to the taste level forged by a uniquely competitive environment.

And increasingly, global brands have noticed.

Many golf brands in Korea have their own flagship shops dedicated to apparel only

Titleist understood this years ago, when its apparel business in Korea took on a life of its own under new ownership and local direction. What had once been a straightforward extension of an iconic equipment giant became something sharper and more premium. By going all in on the serious Tour-player look (I couldn’t even fit into their XL sizes), Titleist struck the right chord with Korean consumers and helped its fledgling apparel business break into the mainstream. Titleist became a household name even for non-golfers who wore its caps, shirts, and windbreakers in daily life. In many ways, it proved that even heritage golf brands could carry real fashion credibility when viewed through a Korean lens.

Several years later, PXG took a page out of Titleist’s playbook and followed suit. Korean consumers helped transform the brand from one known largely for irons and loud commercials into something broader and more stylish. PXG apparel’s growth in Korea was explosive, where it found an early audience and turned the category into something more than mere logo merchandise. It is still hard to walk anywhere in Seoul without seeing its palindrome logo.

Malbon’s meteoric rise in the United States was genuine, but its ascent into a global golf lifestyle brand owes much to Korea, where it was elevated by a market already fluent in modern golf style. Korea did not simply embrace Malbon. It pressure-tested the concept, refined its appeal, and helped push it into the global spotlight.

As such, new brands may arrive from abroad, but more often than not, their sharpest evolution happens here. If a brand can earn credibility in Seoul, it’s deemed to have passed one of the toughest style audits in the game.

That is why the next meaningful chapter may not come from outside, but from a Korean brand moving in the opposite direction, carrying those Seoul Sensibilities outward as K-pop once did.

Play young Stay dope.

From Seoul, With Intent

Khalhon is a label that feels less like a trend-chasing newcomer and more like the product of a market that has already seen everything. Golfers here have long been surrounded by luxury logos, technical fabrics, and tour uniforms disguised as lifestyle wear and vice-versa. In other words, novelty alone rarely lasts here, and the Koreans seems to understand that instinctively.

Its style language leans into clean silhouettes, relaxed but tailored proportions, muted palettes, and premium materials that speak quietly but confidently. There is a modern city aesthetic running through it all, with strong layering pieces, thoughtful textures, and subtle branding that suggests sophistication rather than demanding attention.

“Built for the course. Designed beyond it.”

Most importantly, the garments seem designed to blur the line between golfwear and everyday style. Shirts, trousers, knitwear, and outer layers move comfortably between a game of screen golf, a lunch reservation, an airport gate, or an afternoon coffee in Gangnam with friends.

It raises the question of whether this is golfwear that happens to look good off the course, or everyday clothing that performs beautifully on the fairways.

Personally, I have long appreciated Nike Golf for its clean, athletic modernization of golf attire. It also has the useful side effect of making me look like a more serious golfer than I probably am. But off the course, there are times when being instantly identified as the golf guy in a crowd of non-golfers can feel a touch self-conscious.

“Built for the course. Designed beyond it.”

That is part of what drew me to Khalhon, which seemed to blend golf and everyday wear naturally. While some of the outfits may be slightly beyond my personal confidence level, the brand also offers tasteful options for older guys like me who still want to express a little personality without regretting the decision later.

These are not simply flashy outfits worn on the course and then banished to the closet until the next tee time. They work surprisingly well off the course too, and I suspect many of the pieces will still look right a couple of years from now, which would certainly be kinder to my wallet than most golf fashion trends tend to be.

And perhaps that broader lifestyle positioning also helps explain why someone like Sean Wotherspoon would find Khalhon creatively interesting in the first place.

“Built for the course. Designed beyond it.”

“Korea is not only one of the most fashion-forward golf markets in the world, but one of the most fashion-forward markets globally. Korea is ahead, and I love to watch and try to catch up.” – Sean Wotherspoon, Creative Director at Khalhon

Seoul and Beyond

If Khalhon’s rise says something about where Korean golf fashion is today, its relationship with Sean Wotherspoon says even more about where it is heading.

For readers less familiar with Sean Wotherspoon, his arrival at Khalhon is not some routine celebrity endorsement or influencer collaboration. In design and streetwear circles, Wotherspoon is regarded as one of the more influential creative voices of his generation, particularly when it comes to blending nostalgia, storytelling, and contemporary culture into products that people can connect with.

He first gained widespread attention through his now-famous Nike sneaker collaborations, where his vintage-inspired designs and instinct for color helped turn him into one of the defining artists of the late-2010s sneaker era. His work gradually expanded beyond footwear into apparel, automotive collaborations, collectibles, and broader lifestyle design.

Modern golf style now extends well beyond the fairways, where performance and functionality are largely expected by default. And while plenty of brands already make technically competent golfwear, Khalhon seems more focused on designing clothes people would genuinely want to wear even after the round ends.

And when guys at Wotherspoon’s level show genuine interest in working with a Korean golf brand as its new Creative Director, fashion circles tend to sit up and pay attention. There’s already a huge buzz among the fashion-conscious here about upcoming collabs with iconic sports stars and brands.

“My creative direction for Khalhon is disruptive, colorful, nostalgic, and modern. My goal is to blend these avenues seamlessly within each collection.” – Sean Wotherspoon

In chatting with Sean, what stood out most to me was how genuinely energized he sounded about the project itself. Despite having already worked across and countless other creative spaces, he described golf as a completely fresh category for him, saying that Khalhon “will be an amazing vehicle for my design work.”

At the same time, his enthusiasm seemed tied just as much to Korea itself. He spoke openly about admiring Korea’s fashion culture while repeatedly insisting he is still a terrible golfer.

There was something oddly refreshing about that humility. Rather than sounding like a celebrity parachuting into golf simply because the category suddenly became fashionable, Sean sounded genuinely curious about what Korea might do with the category next.

And perhaps that is what makes Khalhon feel interesting right now. The brand feels less like a trend-chaser and more like the natural result of a market now confident enough to export its own point of view.

For years, global brands came to Korea to sharpen their image against one of the most discerning audiences anywhere. Now, a Korean label appears ready to send those Seoul Sensibilities outward instead.

Which brings us back to kkot-saem-chu-i.

That final cold snap before spring always arrives with a reminder that seasons are changing, whether we notice it immediately or not. Golf fashion feels a little like that right now as well, as the old boundaries between sport, streetwear, luxury, and everyday style continue to soften.

And somewhere in Seoul, a Korean golf label already seems prepared for whatever season comes next. I just hope they have everything in my size.