News flash: it’s hot out there. By “there,” we mean everywhere. The sun is oppressive, and the humidity pervasive.
Of course, there are the traditional remedies: Slip ’N Slides, ice baths, water-balloon fights and the like. But sometimes, there’s no better way to shake the thick summer heat than hopping on your bike and getting a bit of wind in your hair. And as always, we think you should look good doing it.
So we searched high and low for the sartorial upgrades your summer cycling requires.
Normally, we’d support the move (certainly better than SUVs), but we have to worry for the state of their clothes. If the well-coiffed model in question actually mounted that bike, his cotton shirt would be sweaty-going-on-gross inside of 10 minutes. It’s more like bike style in theory.
Bike style usually doesn’t quite reach the decadent-rock-star vibe…but it’s getting closer all the time. This Epitaph bike is the closest yet. The upholstered leather seat is a start, but the chunky metal frame is what makes it look like the kind of thing Keef would ride through his dining room. And since it wouldn’t be rock ‘n’ roll without a little excess, the front and back wheels each come with two tires apiece. Just because they can.
Khakis usually make for unusually bad biking pants—the pant cuff tends to find its way into the bike gears, except on the slimmest of the slim fit—but Dockers gave their pants a run for its money in one of the toughest gigs in the biking world: Berlin’s World Bike Polo Championship.
These scruffy gents are from the American team, bankrolled and (more importantly) outfitted by Dockers. The slim tapered pair on the left seems to have escaped any chain-related chewing, which speaks for the experiment pretty well—although we’d like to see those pant legs rolled up a little more. Still, count it as one more reason to avoid anything that describes itself as “relaxed fit.”
The Tour de France finished up yesterday and, just like that other earth-shaking Euro-heavy sporting event you might remember, the top prize went to the Spanish—specifically one Alberto Contador. It was good sport, sure, but more importantly it gave rise to some spectacular revelry on the sidelines, including a squad of faux-caveman, a spandex-wearing devil and and a gentleman who seemed to be preparing for a joust. Suddenly, the face-painters at the Garden look downright tame.