If you are still wearing a jacket rather than a gilet, if you are quite happy with a hat that is just woolly rather than reversible and merino, if you find it difficult to feel part of a limited edition as you face a three-mile slog against the wind on a wet saddle, then the cutting edge of fashion at the Cycle Show at Earl’s Court today is not for you. Such exhibitions have an optimistic pre-credit-crunch feel to them. The fashion setters ask why cyclists should compromise on style. How about them compromising on price? The sky’s the limit to what the once humble and hardy breed of cyclist is invited to spend on high-impact padding, technical breathable membranes, and shift cables hidden under the handlebar tape – without sacrificing performance. Before she left her job to spend more time with her family, Ruth Kelly, former transport secretary, said that 41% of all cycling trips were less than two miles. Undaunted by this, the latest must-have accessory to the handlebars – that should be flight deck – is a satnav. No cycle lane, it seems, can be too obviously painted in bright green not to need help from space. And what is wrong with day-glo skinsuits, if the people whose attention cyclists want to attract are not fashion photographers but bus drivers at the end of their shifts? Of course, new technology is good. But one cannot help feeling that seventh-generation cranksets – 20% stiffer for optimal power transfer – are a sop to the tired muscles and creaking joints of the bodies labouring above them.
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