There are a few defining moments in every girl’s life—the first time you ride a bike without training wheels, the first beach trip with your best friends, the first time you feel like your style finally says this is me. For me, a surprising number of those moments were accompanied by one brand: Roxy. Not just a logo on a hoodie or the tag on my favorite swimsuit, but something more—a symbol of growing into myself, on my own terms.
I first discovered Roxy during a family vacation when I was twelve. We were in Durban, and I begged my mom to let me pick out my own swimsuit for the first time. Not the frilly ones she used to choose, not something overly pink or childish—but something that made me feel like me. I walked into a surf shop and there it was: a navy-blue Roxy two-piece with coral trim. It was sporty, simple, and just bold enough. I still remember how I felt slipping into it—older, confident, free.
That swimsuit saw me through an entire chapter of girlhood. It was there for my first surf lesson (which ended in a very ungraceful tumble), long afternoons of beach volleyball, and awkward but sweet teenage beach bonfires. I wasn’t the loudest or most outgoing kid, but something about wearing Roxy made me feel like I could be. It wasn’t just clothing—it was courage, stitched into spandex.
Over the years, my relationship with Roxy deepened. I wasn’t just buying swimwear anymore—I was growing into their hoodies, boardshorts, and beach dresses. Their pieces always struck this perfect balance between casual and cool, comfortable and bold. And more importantly, they seemed to understand what it meant to be a girl who’s not afraid to move. I wasn’t dressing to impress; I was dressing to express.
I still remember the year I left for university and bought myself a new backpack from roxy south africa. It was navy with peach accents, just like that first swimsuit. I chose it partly for the nostalgia, but also because I needed a little reminder of who I was—and who I’d become. It followed me through lectures, late-night study sessions, and even a few weekend surf trips when I needed a mental reset. Every time I slung it over my shoulder, it felt like taking a piece of my younger, bolder self with me.
Roxy’s impact on me goes beyond products. There’s something in their identity—a sense of freedom, playfulness, and fearless femininity—that gave me permission to be loud, athletic, a little messy, a little rebellious. I wasn’t trying to be the perfect girl in a catalog. I was just trying to be the best version of myself, and Roxy felt like it was cheering me on the whole way.
Now that I’m older, I still find myself drawn to their pieces—not out of habit, but because their style continues to evolve with me. Their clothing now feels more refined but still easygoing. I’ve worn their cozy fleece jackets on rainy days when I needed comfort, and their breezy sundresses on holidays where I needed to feel like myself again. I even gifted my younger cousin her first Roxy bikini last summer, and watching her light up the same way I once did? That was the full-circle moment I didn’t know I needed.
If I could thank Roxy, I’d say this: thanks for growing with me. For making pieces that weren’t just fashionable, but meaningful. For reminding girls like me that strength and style aren’t mutually exclusive. And for giving me little tokens of courage—whether in a swimsuit, a hoodie, or a backpack—right when I needed them most.
Some brands dress you for occasions. Roxy dressed me for growing up. And that, more than anything, is what makes it unforgettable.