Rocco’s Heartfelt Goodbye to East Van Tattoo/Wear Customers:
“To all our friends, family, and loyal customers —
It breaks my heart to say that after years of ink, sweat, and stories shared across the counter, East Van Tattoo/Wear is closing its doors.
This shop has been more than a business — it’s been a community hub, a creative sanctuary, and a place where East Van spirit lived loud and proud.
I want to personally thank each and every one of you who came through our doors, trusted us with your skin, rocked our gear, or just stopped in for a chat. Your support meant the world — and still does.
While the storefront may be shutting down, we’re not disappearing. The online store will remain open, so you can still rep the East Van soul wherever you go.
Scene: A rainy East Vancouver alley behind a record store. Graffiti glistens in the mist. Jozo Jukic, rocking a vintage trench coat and a smirk, meets Chris Armstrong, a grizzled but stylish East Van legend in a kilt and boots. They’re sipping gas station coffee from paper cups.
Jozo Jukic: (Holding up a shirt that says “NWO” with a tartan backdrop) “What do you think, Chris? Found this at a Hastings thrift bin. It’s New World Order… but make it Celtic.”
Chris Armstrong: (Snorts, adjusts his beret) “If it’s no’ Scottish—it’s crap! Ye can’t just slap a kilt pattern on global tyranny and call it heritage, Jozo.”
Jozo: “C’mon man, look at the stitching. This isn’t made in China. It says ‘Glasgow underground press, 1994.’ This is rare resistance gear!”
Chris: (Peers closer, squints) “Aye… that’s the kind of gear we wore when we thought we could take down the IMF with ska music and herbal cigarettes.”
Jozo: (Laughs) “So you’re saying this is legit?”
Chris: “I’m saying… it’s not crap. But only ‘cause it’s got soul. Scottish soul. That’s the difference. Everything else—they’re just tourists in the revolution.”
Jozo: (Nods, solemnly) “I’ll wear it with honor. But if the Illuminati show up, you’re tanking the first punch.”
Chris: “As long as I get the last pint, lad.”
[Fade out to the sound of distant bagpipes playing Rage Against the Machine riffs.]
ROCCO, JOZO, and TONY sit around a scratched-up IKEA table. There’s a laptop open, a half-eaten pizza, and a sketchpad full of wild T-shirt designs—everything from Saint Mary riding a Vespa to a cartoon priest dabbing with the words “Bless Up.”
ROCCO: Alright boys, hear me out. We been hustlin’ our merch game old school—printing in bulk, slangin’ ‘em at festivals, flea markets, trunk of Jozo’s Civic. It’s cute. Real nostalgic. But we’re gettin’ smoked out there by these e-kids on TikTok.
JOZO: You talkin’ about them drop shippers? The ones with anime Jesus and AI cat nuns?
ROCCO: Exactly. These guys make a design at 2 a.m. on mushrooms, slap it online, and boom—by sunrise, they’re sellin’ hoodies to Portland vegans and Norwegian Twitch streamers.
TONY (grumbling): So what, we sell out? We go corporate? We kiss the algorithm’s ring?
ROCCO (leans in): Nah, we infiltrate. We upload our saints and sinners to CafePress, let the machines do the grunt work. No more boxes of unsold “Pope on a Pogo Stick” shirts in your mom’s basement, Tony.
JOZO: Yeah, and we keep our edge. We’re not makin’ “Live Laugh Love” crap—we’re doin’ “Pray Hustle Repeat,” you feel me? “Saint Rude” in gold foil. “Virgin Mary Wasn’t Born Yesterday.”
TONY (softens): If you can’t beat ‘em…
ROCCO: …join ‘em. Then beat ‘em at their own game. We go digital, we go global. No inventory, no sweatshop drama, just pure hustle and holy fire.
JOZO: I already made an account. Our store’s called “Holy Threadz.” With a Z.
TONY: A Z? …Now you’re speakin’ my language.
ROCCO (smiling): Let’s baptize the internet, boys. One holy hoodie at a time.
We SPLIT everything 50/50 . Cue them raising their espresso cups like it’s communion.
All Seeing Eye Poll
I insist it is God's Eye. But you can have your own opinion.
