Tag Archives: tweed

Ren Faire for Genteel Cyclists?

17 Jun

If you caught my previous entry, “An Elegant Bicycle,” which I nearly typed in as “En Elegant Bicycle” (good morning, grey matter!), you know that I’ve quite suddenly caught cycling fever, if only because a dignified-looking bike and some smart shoes simply make the whole practice appear so effortless and pleasurable. It wouldn’t even be appropriate to use the word cycling if I’m doing it. Leisurely pedaling, perhaps. Slow ride . . . take it easy. Although, I’m almost certain the latter is about something else.

Anyhow . . . as I was flitting about the WWW, researching high-priced leather seats and other accoutrements that would help round out this likely fleeting passion, I happened upon a little something called Tweed Run, currently in its second year in London, but making its way to New York and Toronto this fall. It’s touted as a “metropolitan bicycle ride with a bit of style,” and as you can see from the photos below, participants fully embrace the motto, don their best Jeeves and Wooster getups, and pedal into the sunset.

Photo © murphyz on flickr

Photo © murphyz on flickr

Do you suppose any bit of their ensembles was purchased at H&M?

Oh, and here’s the great flier artwork:

Missed it, darn it!

Am I the only one who thinks this looks ridiculously fun—apart from the possibility of getting flattened by a double-decker bus? Or, is it actually a bit Ren Faire-ish, and we’re pretending it isn’t because mustached hipsters dressed as Victorian gentleman are riding vintage bicycles around, and that’s hopelessly charming? (Actually, as a rule, I don’t do mustaches; but in this case, it kind of works.) Will vintage Raleighs soon become part of the Urban Outfitters catalog alongside turntables, Lomo cameras, and fixed gear bikes? Probably. Oh well. Go me for catching on a hundred years too late. It doesn’t matter much where I live, anyway.

The more and more I carry on with delving in and out of interests, the more I believe I must’ve been a gentleman of yore. But that’s another story for another time.