This one, worryingly, seems to suggest that the reason women don’t cycle is because cycling just isn’t fashionable enough, but now that there are cute and retro cycling accessories at Topshop that could all change. Happily, some of the comments attempt to balance out the ridiculous line of thought put forward in the article (with the exception, of course, of the girl who thought cycling was too slow and that she couldn’t put up with ‘helmet hair’ all day).

What I personally take umbrage at – and this hasn’t been mentioned in the comments – is the suggestion that women can cycle and avoid the ‘greasy fingernailed, Masonic, very macho environment’ of the bike shop. It’s unrealistic to suggest that you can successfully cycle and maintain a bike to a decent standard without either a) having to go into a bike shop or b) getting your own fingernails greasy at some point. It would be better, in my opinion, if the author not only encouraged more women to cycle but also urged them to learn the basics of cycle maintenance and cleaning. Yes, you might end up with oil on your face and grit stuck in inaccessible parts of your nails, but your bike will run better and – dare I say it – look better too.

In conclusion – design all the headscarves, pannier bags and cycling capes (admittedly rather appealing, I have to say), Cyclodelic. Just make sure to include a set of Allan keys, long-nose pliers, degreaser and WD-40 (all in a natty retro-printed case, naturellement) next time.

I sincerely hope that JC Decaux’s fears about costs don’t put a stop to the Vélib scheme – or, indeed, bike schemes in other cities. The sad thing is that this kind of vandalism and destructive, moronic attitude towards what is, from personal experience, an extremely good and useful form of urban transport seems to be an inevitability.

Personally, the event made me more careful when cycling home last night, made me act more kindly towards other cyclists and motorists, and made me feel kind of melancholy about being an urban cyclist.

I know the bridge well, and often head across it on my way up to Rathfarnham. The problems for a cyclist are identical to motorists’ problems: the bridge is too narrow. Two lanes of traffic on each side of the road compete for space on a bridge that is essentially only two-lane. Often buses (and in this case, fatally, a truck) complicate matters with their extra heft.

My solution when joining the traffic there is usually to err wholly on the side of caution and just sit behind vehicles, in plain sight, until the lights change, and then edge into the cycle lane on road on the south side of the bridge.

Is the answer to limit the number of lanes approaching the bridge, or to widen the historic bridge? Should we educate drivers of heavy vehicles in looking out for cyclists? Should cyclists be more aware of their own visibility, especially when close to large vehicles?

I’m not sure, but I know that the next time I cross the bridge it will be with some sadness.

The solutions to the problem are quite obvious to anyone who uses the city’s roads on a daily basis: a reduction in car traffic, an increase in the availability (or, more likely, uptake) of public transport and a greater emphasis on better facilities for cyclists.

I was overjoyed to read the planners’ statement that cycling has the potential to ‘transform the city’s quality of life’. Yet what does it actually mean? It will be interesting to read how they propose achieving this potential: obviously, a knock-on effect of excluding car traffic from the centre of the city will be more space for cyclists, making it a more attractive option. And, let’s face it, making getting through the city much more pleasurable for those of us who spend their trips home from work constantly anticipating the jerkily frustrated manoeuvring of motorists.

I’d be interested to hear reactions to kerb-separated cycling lanes, though: as that’s one of the proposals of the report. I think the best cycle lanes are those painted on plain tarmac, as part of the main road; in my experience any other kind of lane either soon falls into disrepair, or necessitates a difficult rejoining of traffic flow.

Still, many of the other proposals are interesting and timely.

See Irish Times article here.

So, what does this have to do with bikes? A lot, it would appear. I initially started writing this post in relation to Lenihan’s decision to impose a further tax of 8 cent per litre on petrol, which will clearly help to encourage people out of their cars and, one hopes, onto bikes. However, he has just announced that companies in major urban areas who provide car parking spaces especially for their employees will now have to pay an extra levy of €200 a year – and, more importantly, that tax incentives will be put in place to encourage people to cycle to work.

Good news, as far as I can see it, though perhaps on a day like today cycling doesn’t seem like the most pleasant option. Maybe that’s why certain TDs laughed when the word “cycling” was mentioned.

We hope the maps which show on-road and off-road routes, will help persuade non-cyclists to venture out on their bikes for the first time and they might encourage experienced cyclists to try out new parts of Dublin when out for a cycle.

“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.

I’ve always deplored late night cycling without any lights (and have only done it once or twice when I’ve left lights behind or they weren’t working) but really what makes you visible – the first thing a motorist sees – late at night are hi-vis jackets. Those things really leap out in low-light conditions. Obviously, the ideal is to combine all the visiblity measures.

So I’m all prepared – the only problem is the evenings aren’t quite dark enough yet. Soon.