Bike Commuting Isn't Just For Boys Anymore
0 comment Friday, June 13, 2014 |
from a longtime reader, first time contributing writer:
Very few men - it would be hasty of me to disqualify them all - face the fashion crisis that bike commuting creates for their work wardrobes. Ties and suit jackets, for all their sweat-inducing qualities, have nothing on skirts and heels. Yesterday morning, my bike fanatic boyfriend (Hi, Will) and I were scheduled to take a tour of the new EPA building in Lodo. Since my flight back to our nation's capital was leaving shortly thereafter, I rather logically assumed that we would drive down with my luggage in the car and then leave from there to the airport after a lovely lunch. Even sound logic, though, can't overcome the adage of what happens when one assumes things - especially when the president of BikeDenver is involved. The thought of burning fossil fuels to attend a presentation on sustainability galled Will. Looking in my suitcase shocked me more. My choices were among two cocktail dresses and a chiffon skirt with a handkerchief hem (Google it, gentlemen). Of course, there were also the threadbare jeans I had brought for outdoors-type activities or the hiking clothes - scented with sunblock, sweat, and campfire smoke - that I had just worn for four days straight on our camping trip.
Will thought the jeans would be fine, but the Washingtonian in me was not about to enter a federal building under-dressed for the occasion. (Of course, as the other attendees of the tour later demonstrated to me, in Denver, federal employees and REI salespeople are hard to tell apart. It's the "business casual on the off chance I might go hiking after work" look.) So, I opted for the skirt and the only shoes I had with me to go with it, which happened to be a pair of flippy heeled sandals. In other words, ideal cycling attire.

To prevent my skirt from getting ripped off by the chain or gears on the journey - thereby making it just that more inappropriate for the occasion - I gathered the flowing hem up in a rubber band. After performing an amazing feat of leg origami to get myself up on the seat of my new Bianchi Milano (Thanks, Will), we were off down the Cherry Creek bike path, where I managed to expose most of my blindingly white thighs to my unsuspecting fellow cyclists. (For those of you who missed the show, watch for an encore when I return sometime in July, or just enjoy the pictures below.)

The happy conclusion? After undoing the rubberband and shaking out the folds, I was ready for business - and more importantly, Will didn't lose any street cred with the sustainability crowd. Phew!