I know, I'm using this "busy" excuse again...
[And yes, those are two scarves. Just because.]
I'm sorry. Forgive me, please. I'll be blogging my little fingers off properly next week. I'll even post on Columbus Day.
Have a good weekend!
project interbike
[The last in the series, I promise!]
I never really got into Sex and the City, but I did get into Project Runway.
Lack of TV meant that I would watch it whenever I could with my best friend; hanging out at her place always meant a PR DVD viewing. And for someone actually enjoys staying up until 3am battling drafting paper and French curves, it was awesomely fun.
But when the bike entered my life, fashion sort of fell away. Comfort and the ability to pedal efficiently became a priority. Jeans were traded for shorts or leggings, collared shirts for something I wouldn't mind destroying, and necklaces got neglected as I was sure they would get caught on my bag and break to pieces.
The irony being that even before I got to Interbike, I was obsessed with what the hell I was going to wear. Even if I was assured that it was a convention full of bike nerds in t-shirts.
But come on, this is Vegas! So my little fingers got to work, embellishing an otherwise ordinary white t-shirt into a sequined, Vegas-appropriate, Interbike-appropriate, champion-stripe adorned number. It took a few nights of painful stitching, but once it was done, I was so proud of myself. I was like this is going to be the best t-shirt ever and I totally cannot wait to show my NYC Velo crew!
Of course, when I finally met up with them, their sole excitement stemmed from the opportunity to stand a 5-foot-4-inch short me next to Tyson, a 6-foot-6-inch tall former employee of NYC Velo and current Portland-based Civilian Bikes framebuilder [have you noticed how NYC Velo seems to be the go-to place for talented bike people?]. But yes, the resulting picture [taken by M1] is hilarious [also, my shoes were killing me].
What's also funny is that while I had mentally scrunched my nose at wearing t-shirts throughout Interbike, I did exactly that, like every other bike nerd in attendance. But, unlike every other bike nerd, NYC Velo and M1 kept it very interesting.
First, there was the NYC Velo x Jeremy Fish shirt worn by Brett. Then there was the new stem-cap design shirt worn by none other than Mr. A. Crooks. And in a stroke of creative genius [paired with some late-night printing] was the Shimura shirt.
I'm actually not as flat as that picture makes me look. Really. But regardless, that shirt had people actually staring at my chest and doing double-takes. People came up to talk to me about it. I even felt like a mini celebrity when I showed the guys at Shimano, and about three people pulled out their phones to take a picture.
You know when people say dressing the part is half the battle? It totally is.
Because armed with the confidence this shirt was giving me, I managed to drop my dignity and say hello to Garrett Chow of Mash SF...who, despite the fact that we're Facebook friends, I had never met before. You don't need me to tell you this but he's super nice and was somehow not completely creeped out by my stalkerish behavior.
But dressing well and looking good can be exhausting. By the time I boarded my flight back to cold, chilly Boston, I felt just like Brett [and his PRO tanlines]. Still, I promised myself that if I make it out there next year, I'll be sure to try and channel a little more Gary Fisher into my wardrobe...
an outlier problem
You know you're at Interbike when the day starts with a stop by a suite at the Venetian, and the elevator next to you spits out a guy in a full kit on his bike, who clips in and rides his way to his hotel room.
But you know the day's going to be really good when it involves a cell phone sound system, Bouchon Bakery, and independent cycling apparel designers in the form of Outlier and Swrve.
A month and a little bit ago, M1 and I met Tyler and Abe of Outlier. Over lattes and iced coffees, we chatted about printing shirts, fondled their new Merino T-shirt [which feels like a soft black cloud of air], and when Interbike came up, they let us in on a plan for a trunk show. After saying our goodbyes, M1 and I babbled excitedly about it. And before we knew it, we were sitting in a suite at the Venetian with Tyler, Abe, Matt, and Miriam [of Swrve].
The trunk show - and all the running back and forth it involved - was possibly the most fun I had in Vegas. Because while both Outlier and Swrve obviously take their craft seriously, they not only deliver quality products, but are some of the friendliest people in the industry. Getting excited over how good ak-mak crackers are [they are addictive] wasn't stupid, but awesome. And feeling lazily comfortable after a morning and then some spent on my feet, I even managed to pop my cherry on one of the couches.
My Bouchon Bakery cherry, that is. We scarfed down sandwiches with a coffee so dark it tasted like an Americano [except...almost better, if that's even possible], and an Americano with crema so thick it almost looked like a latte. One bite of the huge oatmeal-raisin cookie and I fully, completely, and totally understood Abe's admission when he said had a "Bouchon problem."
Tummies full and re-energized, we headed down to the Momentum fashion show...And I ended up in an elevator with Jason and his Walmart Huffy [which he later did a barspin with]. It sat in the suite along with Affinity's new road frame [with complete Sram Red] as Outlier's Workwear pants and 4 Season OG pants flew into eager hands [they are hottt]. People marveled at their Merino T-shirt and the soft texture of their Merino hoodie as Tyler danced to the Major Lazer streaming out of his cell phone. M1 tried on a pair of the Workwear pants and had paid for them before I asked if he was getting them. I couldn't resist and bought a cap. Can I say I can't wait for their womens' pants?
It was over almost too quickly, although my legs felt dead. People drifted off to the Crit as we wrapped up our things and sat for a few minutes in the quiet aftermath of a good event. I left the next morning without seeing Outlier or Swrve but emailed thanks and mentioned indulging our respective "Bouchon problems" again.
"Bouchon, anytime..." came the reply. Yup, these are definitely my kind of people.
a celebration of taste
I'm actually not that much of a party girl.
Notwithstanding the complete lack of rack that is required to look good in backless club wear, a glass of beer can make the room spin for me. Chimay will absolutely floor me. Dancing in heels all night is a skill I never bothered to perfect. I'd just really rather stay in and lube my chains.
But when something's been talked about for weeks - yup, that's right, weeks - in advance, I'll promise myself that I won't "accidentally" fall asleep or "get sick" that night [okay, I did fall asleep after dinner but I was working on 4 hours of sleep!].
Of course, I'm talking about the "Celebration of Sport a.k.a. Tastemaker's Party." Sponsored by Rapha, Ridley, Fizik, Embrocation Cycling Journal, IF, and Knog, I had received an invite long enough ago that I couldn't remember if I'd actually been invited [M1 informed me that I had been]. Which is a good thing, because I had promised Jason [a.k.a. DJ Mayhem for the night] that I would be attending. And when Jason spins, well, it's a guaranteed fun time.
So I was looking forward to it as soon as I landed in Vegas, groggy and gimpy from a broken IT band. I then proceeded to promptly forget about any stabbing pain in my knee in the excitement of Interbike; and any complaints of being completely exhausted vanished when James produced, from his magical pocket full of goodies, yet another party invite in the form of a pin [plus an Embrocation Cycling Journal pin!].
When I was finally roused from my death-like post-dinner nap, we squeezed into a taxi and headed to the Artisan Hotel. Dimly lit, with faux masterpieces plastered on the walls and ceilings, the Artisan is to the rest of Vegas what a chilled-out jazz lounge is to a warehouse rave. And in the center of the bar, lit up by bright Knog lights, was the new IF grass track bike. You could almost imagine it cooing great jazz.
Until, of course, Jason took the wheels and turned up the happy notch, mixing 80s hits in a suit [with suspenders!]. People flowed in and out, casually chatting, somehow forgetting that the male:female ratio would have been considered downright pathetic in any regular bar.
Still, they were all tastemakers. Scanning the room, I saw a tall redhead and attempted to wave to get his attention, then squeezed past some people to say hi. It was Tyler, and next to him, Abe, of Outlier. As I excitedly said hi, picking up the conversation from the first time we met a month or so ago, a man turned to me:
"Excuse me, are you Kaiko?"
It was none other than Velodramatic! It was my first time speaking to him face-to-face, and he is as awesome as I imagined. With Velodramatic to my left, Outlier on my right, Jason DJing, Marty at the bar, M1 representing cassette and Gage & Desoto...all surrounded by Rapha...When you add up the names of everyone I knew there - a small minority - you get a sense of how many heavy-hitters were in attendance.
We escaped to the hotel lobby as the temperature in the bar started to noticeably rise, and after talking about the next day's planned events, the ridiculousness of Vegas, and whether we should go to a strip club, we found ourselves completely cracked. Saying our goodbyes, we left the quirky Artisan and headed back to the glitz of the Strip.
My legs weren't wobbly, but I felt as if I had spent the night dancing my feet off at overpriced clubs in downtown Tokyo. I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow, dreaming of custom invites in the form of pins, an awesome 80s soundtrack, high-end cycling apparel, and, of course, bicycles.
[More tomorrow on some hot pants, new addictions, and cell phone sound systems...]
snobby shorts
Being somewhat of a closet snob, I love the vague language of being in the know.
"Did you see--"
"Oh yeah."
"Unbelieveable, right?"
"But awesome."
"Exactly."
And, of course, I love it even more when this top secret, exclusive language is used in the context of bikes and blogs. I'm not talking about my own...No, no, leave it to someone far more meticulous and clever.
I'm talking about Velodramatic. His cycling photography is a-maz-ing, but what unfailingly becomes the topic of discussion amongst readers [i.e., those clearly in the know about good style, taste, and photography] is the discovery of his "tab." A list of every bike-related purchase investment he's made, complete with a grand tally, it displays what I normally would throw into the mental "ignore as much as possible" file cabinet. Obsessions can get out of control quite easily, and when paired with numbers and dollar signs, it's enough to make you consider trying to regain your sanity.
Of course, it doesn't work that way. Despite the shorter days [why is it getting dark at 7.30pm now?!] and the dwindling bank account, I made [what I believed would be] my final bike-related purchase for the next few months. And that was going to be it. I mean, other than a tube here and there and the odd bottle of lube, nothing substantial was going to be purchased. That was the promise.
But when I got my first ever pair of bike shorts a few days ago, it also opened a Pandora's box of "things I really need now that I have shorts." Because it feels like I'm finally making some leap; getting serious - for real this time - and committing to more hours and millions of miles on both of my bikes. No more of this "well, my saddle hurts" excuse. Pull on those black Lycra contraptions of diaper-esque proportions and get out and fucking ride.
And ride I did. This past weekend was bubbling over with bike rides - on the rollers and off. But that also had me discovering that those bike shorts weren't my final investment. Even with the shorts, the saddle on my Dolan still feels like a meat tenderizer, the cooler weather is oh-so-perfect for longer rides but also indicates a need for a new jersey, and eventually, arm warmers, leg warmers, gloves, and embrocation. And if I ever get to pushing hours on the rollers, another set of clipless pedals.
It adds up. Dizzyingly, in fact. And as the numbers creep skyrocket, I'm almost tempted to look around for a less expensive hobby [although, it's really debatable if those really exist]. But it seems I'm in it for the long haul - for life, even - so it's really not worth sweating all those minor details. At least that's what I've been telling myself lately, anyway.
Besides, deep, deep, deep down inside, maybe I subconsciously knew purchasing those shorts would mean entry into the snobbier sub-world of cycling where t-shirts absolutely cannot be paired with cycling shorts if you want to be taken seriously. Where black shoes are only for domestiques, and kits should perfectly match your team-issue bike. Which, admittedly, means many more purchases await me under a heavy cloud of potential debt.
Yeah, thank God for debit cards.
lazy friday
Apologies but it's been slightly busy around here. I promise to be back in full force next week. Until then, here's a Rapha Scarf Friday for you...
Happy Labor Day weekend!