The word has a bad reputation, and the framing of the episode — pros and cons — is the useful part. Both halves exist, and they live in the same places.
Gear is the obvious one. The distance between a molded plastic board from a toy aisle and a handmade wooden deck on machined trucks and urethane wheels is real: it is a difference you feel in how the board pops, how it lands, how it behaves on a waxed ledge. It is also the easiest status line anyone ever drew, and it gets drawn constantly, on people who are three weeks into the hobby and have no idea yet what a bushing does. The useful version of that standard is advice — this is what you will notice when you upgrade, this is what you won't. The useless version is a verdict on the rider.
Trick standards are the second place. A scene that holds a high bar for what counts as landed and clean is a scene where riding improves fast, where a line is judged on whether the board rolls away rather than whether the clip is lit well. That same bar, pointed at the wrong person at the wrong moment, is how someone decides a year early that they are not good enough to post at all.
And then there's language: knowing the brands, knowing which wheels are cut from real skateboard urethane, knowing what split ply means and why a primo chews the edges of a deck. Shared vocabulary is how a small scene moves information quickly. It is also, used badly, a door with a password on it.
The argument is never really about whether standards are good. It is about what you do with a standard once you have one — hand it over, or hold it up.