The rise of the gentleman cyclist
Once spurned as 'belonging to
a lower social class', cycling now seems to have become fashionable again.
Posted by
Matthew Wright
Tuesday 27 September 2011/ http://www.theguardian.com/environment/bike-blog/2011/sep/27/rise-of-the-gentleman-cyclist
Most cyclists I have met are conscientiously contemporary in
outlook, aware of their responsibility to both environment and community. The
slight smugness this can engender is one of the things the gridlocked motorist
so hates about us.
But if an increasing proportion of bike-related marketing is
to be believed, this modernity is but a veneer, concealing a moustachioed
Edwardian, keen as mustard on a spot of biking with his chums. Is the return, I
began to wonder, of the sanitised class fantasy Downton Abbey leading cyclists to
embrace their inner General Melchett?
Browsing some of the increasingly popular retro bike designs
recently, I came across the Old Bicycle Showroom ("Purveyors of Fine
bicycles to Nobility & Gentry"); and I met Pashley's owners' club of
"jolly chaps", who look more Friedrich Nietzsche than Fausto Coppi.
Then there is the Tweed Run, issuing its dress code like a public school
prefect: "Now look here, proper attire is expected"; and Rapha, with
its series of Gentlemen's Races, and clothing for gentlemen.
Needless to say, this foppery is a million miles from the
emergence of cycling as a popular activity in the 1890s. Seventy early cycling
clubs were named after the campaigning socialist paper The Clarion (founded
1891), with its ideal of fellowship. The brief aristocratic fad for cycling
petered out when the bike became too popular to be posh.
It has, as Tim Hilton's memoir One More Kilometre and We're
in the Showers relates, "belonged to a lower social class" ever
since. Until, that is, the recent popularity of cycling among wealthy men
persuaded some marketing departments to rewrite the history of cycling. But
does this retelling make any sense?
The idea of a gentleman's race (in which the whole team has
to stick together as a group) makes for a good outing, but has little to do
with the ruthless and sometimes drug-addled history of professional bike
racing. And the Tweed Run, despite the semblance of tradition, has only been
going since 2009, when it began under the sponsorship of Brooks saddles.
Brooks are perhaps the most promiscuous users of this kind
of heritage porn, though their evocation of a fantasy past makes some
concessions to modern feeling. One of their most popular recent posters
features a Brooks-clad couple protecting a fox from the advancing hounds. Its
originality comes from embracing the heritage aesthetic, while rejecting the
more specific historical associations. We look like 1930s aristocrats, the ad
seems to say, but we certainly don't behave like them.
This marketing does make some sense when selling equipment
which hasn't changed significantly in over a century. To their range of leather
saddles, Brooks have been adding product lines from early catalogues to meet
the demand for retro chic. You may have to pay £872.30 for a 1930s-styled
jacket, but at least you don't look like a traffic bollard.
It's the same story with other British heritage brands.
Traditional bike bag manufacturer Carradice has seen a significant improvement
in sales since rebranding its bags as "retro cool", as its marketing
analysis candidly explains.
Pashley has increased sales despite the recession by
focusing on its Britannia range of heritage-styled bikes. They come with a
little badge of a trident-bearing, union flag shield-wielding Britannia figure,
for those riders who like to imagine themselves ruling the waves while cycling
to Tesco.
For a longer perspective from within the trade, I spoke to
Ninon Asuni from The Bicycle Workshop. Was this preppy look – it plays very
well in the US market – putting off more down-to-earth cyclists, I wondered?
She pointed out that the retro revival has had the thoroughly positive effect
of encouraging the restoration of older bikes, which are a great solution for
the stylish cyclist on a budget. The wide range of stylish, comfortable bike
gear keeps people cycling all year round, and in bad weather. And the
marketing, she suggested, was mostly good fun.
Some of the marketing – especially Brooks's – is witty. It's
sad some bike companies feel the only way to make their products seem new is by
associating them with this delusional world of jolly chaps, obscuring cycling's
traditional ideal of fellowship. Though as Downton Abbey shows, our fantasy of
an aristocratic past extends far beyond the world of cycling.
The attention of big business is, at least, a sign that
cycling has become culturally mainstream, a bit like football in the 90s. It
has come of age. Like football, it's losing its history of fellowship, which is
being replaced by a marketed, corporate identity; it even has a "coming
home" moment of sorts in the Olympics next year, where Mark Cavendish
looks set to do well. The recent Intelligence Squared debate about cycling,
addressed by high profile literary figures such as Will Self, as well as
celebrated cyclists like Graeme Obree, would have been unimaginable 10 years
ago.
Where cycling differs from football is that the majority of
cyclists participate as well as spectate. The benefits of cycling's high
profile – facilities, driver awareness, and so on – can therefore be shared
widely. But when you do go out, just remember, chaps: if male cyclists reckon
it's worth shaving the legs to reduce drag, just think what that walrus
moustache is doing to your performance.
These Photographs in : http://vintagebicycle.wordpress.com/page/6/
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