9 (cycle fashion)

It's true that the folks here ride bikes a lot. This was a fact I was counting on. Being a cyclist myself, I had an idea of what to expect from other people who think highly of their two-wheeled friends. Last year I stopped wearing my favorite skate shoes because they wouldn't fit in the toe cages on my fixed gear. Sacrifices must be made.

I was surprised to find that most of the bikes here are squeaky cruisers, too old and ill-maintained to be in decent shape and not old enough for retro charm. They generally induce reactions in me ranging from cringe to shudder. So much for a massive cool cycling community. But I cut my losses, and decided to appreciate the fact that people here often opt for cycling over driving. Also I am less likely to be hit by a cyclist, and if I do, I won't be quite as damaged.

My expectations negligible at this point, I was startled by the appearance of (for lack of a better term) a foxy mop handle mama, cruising by in a short black skirt, tights and 2" heels. True, it made no sense in terms of functionality, but damned if I wouldn't vote that into office.

The event brings to mind a phone conversation Scott and I once had about multi-tasking. I told him how ridiculous I felt taking his call while in the midst of a ride. He hesitated, then told me to not be so hard on myself. He abashedly admitted that he's actually been known to text on his bike. I gave it a few moments' thought then responded that text-riding (i made that term up) is actually pretty hip, even though phone conversations are not. He was surprised and requested an explanation.

It really comes down to simple algebra. In a regular bike phone call, the Impracticality factor, IF, is rather high. (I can recall multiple occasions where, while attempting to extricate it from my pocket to answer a call, I dropped my phone in the street and its battery and battery cover launched in opposite directions.) The Danger factor, DF, is rather low. (I just looked dumb stopping to pick up and reassemble the pieces.)

In an SMS situation, the Impracticality factor, though higher than in the previous scenario, does not exceed the exceptionally high Danger factor, thus resulting in an overall hip maneuver. The equation looks like this:

DF (Danger Factor) - IF (Impracticality Factor) = BAQ (Badass Quotient)

If the BAQ is a positive number, then it is a good idea for you to pursue said course of action. At least in terms of aesthetics. Therefore, Scott was cool for texting and I was lame for chatting. (I present this other example via FAILblog.)

Back to my first point: This dame's Badass Quotient was off the charts. So I was for it, as much as my inner logician and practitioner of Feng Shui disagreed.

This city is fashion forward. The whole country is. I took that as the reason why there are so few helmeted cyclists, though they clearly take their lives into their own hands by traveling the same streets as these madcap drivers. I could understand that. Better a good-looking corpse than something something something.

But then I realized that there exists a curious trend among cyclists here that merits a closer look. A good 50% of cyclists were wearing fluorescent yellow vests. With silver reflective stripes. What I had taken to be the uniform for municipal workers was actually safety gear for the public at large.

I discovered that these ridiculous articles were to be found in almost every car, hanging on the back of one of the front seats. The scope of this gave me pause. Why would a people so obviously engrossed in physical appearance chose a neon garment over an awkward head piece? I mean, if you want to throw down the money (i know i did) you can get a decent-, (dare i say it) even cool-looking helmet.

But maybe I wasn't giving these people enough credit. Perhaps what it comes down to isn't a matter of fashion at all, but safety. A helmet will protect you if you in the case of an accident. Wearing one of these vests goes a long way to preventing one. (But you will probably still need an ambulance for that fashion emergency. (zing!))