Le chic, c’est freak

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Further to the continuing discussion taking place on this here blog about what (or what not to) wear while cycling, I feel compelled to write about a specific aspect of this general debate which, it seems, has become rather preeminent of late – the general idea of “cycle chic”.

“Cycle chic” has become a phenomenon to the extent that it now has its own Wikipedia entry, which informs us that the phrase was apparently first coined in 2007 by the guy that runs Copenhagen Cycle Chic. Since then it’s inspired London Cycle Chic, Velo Vogue, and a Californian version, RidingPretty, among others. There’s a Canadian Cycle Chic too, though it seems that they have a rather different view of what constitutes cycling chic to those in Copenhagen, the west coast and London.

At a basic level, the cycle chic idea is about encouraging people to cycle by portraying cycling as an activity and a mode of transport that can be stylish as well as practical. As the masthead of Copenhagen Cycle Chic states, it’s about showing “normal people in normal clothes on normal bikes”. Perhaps unsurprisingly, cycle chic is overwhelmingly concerned with female cyclists, and websites devoted to it are full of Sartorialist-style images of ladies in la-di-swish outfits on often quite la-di-swish bikes. Of late, however, cycle chic has moved from various blogs and websites into the pages of fashion magazines, largely thanks to the oft-published photos of British model Agyness Deyn pedalling a (very lovely) black vintage bicycle around New York while wearing a tiny miniskirt and ludicrous pair of heels. As a result, the fashion pages of several celebrity magazines recently contained features devoted to cycling, discussing everything from the best old-fashioned tartan box-bags to sit on your back pannier to which cruiser was the cutest for going on gentle cycles around the local park.

I am not a cycling puritan, before you ask. Quite the opposite, in fact. After all, when choosing my bike I insisted on a step-through frame so I could continue to wear skirts while cycling, and had to get a basket for the front to carry my handbag. And it’s clear that the idea of cycle chic potentially has a great deal of positive outcomes. If it encourages more women to become regular cyclists, then I’m all for it. Some cycle chic sites are not just about the style, with sections devoted to safety and good bike practice. Moreover, aside from not being a cycling puritan I’m also a girl with a penchant for fashion, and I have to admit that some of the items I’ve seen discussed on cycle chic websites have definitely tickled my fancy. That’s you, floral pannier bags.

However, there’s something just off about cycle chic, to my mind. Firstly, there’s the bizarre presumption that some of the people behind these sites seem to make that they, and the other cyclists they feature, are in a minority by dint of the fact that they wear ‘normal’ clothes when they cycle. The author of London Cycle Chic states that she “refuses to be another Lycra clad anorak”. It’s as if the majority of day-to-day cyclists go around looking as if they’re ready to take on the Alpe d’Huez, convinced that you simply cannot so much as consider getting on a bike if you aren’t togged out from head to foot in body-hugging fabric.

This, based on personal experience of cycling in Dublin and Paris, and seeing cyclists in London, is utter nonsense. The overwhelming majority of commuting cyclists wear their normal clothes while cycling. Today, for example, I made my journey into work wearing exactly what I had planned to wear in work – a denim skirt, flat pumps, red jumper and white blouse. If only there’d been a cycle chic advocate nearby. Right now I could be gracing the front page of one of their sites, being held up as a model of retro cycle chic in an ocean of sweaty lycra and plastic.

And yet, sometimes sweaty plastic is the only way to go. Tomorrow, it being Dublin, it could be absolutely bucketing down outside – but I’ve still got to get on the bike. So it’s on with the day-glo yellow waterproof trousers, the pink and black waterproof jacket, and the equally day-glo backpack cover. It’s an ensemble that would send most cycle chic types into fits of disgust, but it keeps me (mostly) dry.

The problem is that cycle chic doesn’t seem to recognise the fact that if you’re a serious daily cyclist, sometimes – no matter how stylish you are – you have got to dress badly in order to stave off the elements. Otherwise you just end up miserable and dripping wet. Its refusal to acknowledge the possibility of having to cycle in heavy rain, or other adverse conditions, suggests that the idea of cycle chic is inherently lacking when it comes to the basic practicalities of being a cyclist. And don’t get me started on its belief that one can cycle safely in very high heels.

Moreover, the condemnation of lycra and anoraks and unflattering waterproof gear ensures that cycle chic remains, for all its “Hey! Let’s All Bedeck Our Bikes With Flowers And Go Cycling While Wearing High Heels!” cheeriness, essentially snobby and exclusive. You get the feeling that, as I noted above, many cycle chic advocates would (having first suppressed their initial urge to throw up) have to resist the urge to push me off my bike if I whizzed past while dressed as Waterproof Woman. Perhaps this snotty attitude – however unintentional – is simply par for the course when one deals with ideas inspired by the unashamedly toffee-nosed world of fashion.

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Tags: commuting, cycle chic, dublin, gear, raingear