Pret a Rouler
Last Thursday, we went to Velorution’s Pret a Rouler show. The idea is timely to say the least: a stab at the problem that some people think cycling and dressing smart don’t mix. It was a brilliant show, although as far as we could tell, some of the scheduled designers were missing. We notably weren’t able to spot Paul Smith, Rapha or the Teenage Girl Fashion Project. Checking just now, it seems that Paul Smith and Rapha have since been removed from the Pret a Rouler site, but I remember them being announced at some point. I was particularly looking forward to pestering Rapha to finally include women’s cuts in their range.
Needless to say, I especially liked that the show kicked off with the models stripping off fake cardboard helmets and face masks. Very nice stuff by Jan Cicmanec and by Guy Hills and Kirsty McDougall of Dashing Tweeds. A former courier turned fashion photographer and keen everyday urban transport cyclist, Hills together with weaver McDougall designed a range of tweed fabrics at the same time stylish and functional. Reflective stripes are woven directly into the fabric and are practically invisible by daylight, and the fabric is teflon coated to be water repellent.
The suits are cut to have knickerbocker style trousers and the jackets have an extensible section at the shoulder to give extra room for movement when bending over the handlebars, yet to still have a smart fit when off the bike. Check out their website for more cuts (not just for cycling).
I’ve also just seen that Velorution are finally starting to add pictures of the show to their blog. Hopefully they’ll add a few more; I’m shamelessly nicking this one (showing a few Dashing Tweeds suits and a women’s outfit by Jan Cicmanec):
Well, you might say, the Dutch and the Germans have been cycling in everyday, even elegant clothing all along. As Seth Stevenson (who’s presumably from the U.S.) writes about his impressions of the Dutch cycling culture on Slate:
I can’t tell you how absurd it looked—and how utterly gleeful it made me—as these older couples, in prim evening wear, mounted their bikes and rode side-by-side into the night. They whooshed past me, pedaling with ease, and their conversations carried on undisturbed. The women’s dresses fluttered about their ankles; the men’s cigarette smoke trailed behind them.
So why would you need any kind of special clothing at all, even if it looks smart? One answer is that even in Germany, many people who have to dress formally for the office shun taking the bike, or make excuses for any minor drizzle.
Another answer is distance. At least for Germany, I can confirm that most utility cycling is done only on short trips (below 5 km or so) and at a relatively slow speed. This is at least reinforced by the strong prevalence of mandatory segregated cycle lanes, which cyclists have to use whenever they accompany a road, and which are beloved by many Germans for their purported (though largely illusory) safety benefits, but which invariably force you to cycle much more slowly than you would be able to on the adjacent road.
Here in expansive London, trips can easily exceed 5 km. Hackney to Leicester Square is just over 8 km. Yet, cycling on the road, I am easily faster than traffic even without exerting myself, so cycling is my top choice to get there. For these distances, though, it is nice having clothes that accommodate some of the cycling “issues”, such as the the slightly bent forward position or the open chain on many sportier bikes. Having jackets and tops cut to be ever so slightly longer in back is a nice touch that I appreciate even when trundling along on my upright Dutch roadster.
So I’d argue that even the cycling culture in countries such as Germany could benefit from this kind of fashion, particularly by prying many suburb-to-town distances out of the firm grip of cars and overcrowded trains, and by transforming the stubborn notion that smart office wear cannot possibly also be functional.