Rachel’s friend Enda invited us to go dancing on a boat. “What should we wear?” we asked. “Whatever you want,” was his reply. “Something waterproof.”

As it turns out, very few of my clothes fall into that category. My old raincoat went into the charity bag this past spring. (It was hardly the sort of thing one would wear dancing anyway.) As I mentally reviewed the contents of my closet, I suddenly remembered a pair of PVC pants I’d acquired in the mid-1990s. Tight, black, and very tapered with lacing up the front, they were classic Le Chateau; cheap and cheerful. I knew they were still in a box somewhere, and I set out to find them. A few minutes later, as I yanked them out from under a stash of vintage fur collars, my next thought was to wonder if, after more than a decade, they would still fit. They did.

I looked at myself in the mirror; not only did they fit, they were surprisingly chic. With a white tank top and red flats, they were just the right mix of current and retro. They were just “new retro” enough to be edgy. Once I was done being pleased with myself for having kept them, I had a very disturbing thought: I had actually become old enough to reference myself – as an adult.

It was always normal to wear things my mother had worn (50s dresses, 60s shoes) or things my sisters had worn (disco-licious), but the clothes in my closet had been – until now – a one-round deal. This everlasting 80s revival doesn’t count either; I was only a teenager and aesthetically unrefined when New Wave was actually new, dressing at the mercy of my parents’ budget and approval. No, I was a grownup when I bought those pants. They were cool then and, somehow, I’d managed to live long enough for them to be cool again.

I am both amused and appalled. Of course, my reflections on the inexorable march of time and the cyclical nature of fashion have been validated, and my packrat tendencies have finally paid off. That’s quite nice. On the other hand, you know, I’m old.

A few days ago I was in the Salvation Army store. I found a fantastic dress – a long-sleeved, scoop-necked, black microfibre jersey thing. It’s exactly the sort of outfit Peter Lindbergh would have photographed for Vogue when I was in University. (It’s the sort of dress I would have bought myself if I could have afforded it – and if I hadn’t thought dresses too girlie by half.) I couldn’t resist trying it on; it looked great. There was nothing to do but pay the six bucks and hurtle headlong into my future – which, it appears, has been hiding in my past all along.

Ha.

photograph by Henry Sansom

When I first moved to Toronto, I was pretty nervous about riding a bike. Between the traffic and the parked cars and those nasty, sneaky streetcar tracks, it can be sort of scary if you’re not used to it. What can I say – people change. Only five years later I overheard a friend talking about my cycling habits: “If she can’t go on her bike, she doesn’t go,” he laughed.

No parking, no transfers, no walking, no waiting: Bikes are fast, cheap, convenient, and fun as hell. The best part of all is you can get where you’re going in style. Ask any girl who rides in heels and she’ll tell you: It’s as easy as riding in flats and your feet never get sore.

From suit-and-tie office workers on the College St bike lane to the Queen West evening hipster brigade, every year that goes by I notice more and more people embracing bikes as the stylish way to travel. Hell, even Club Monaco is on the bikewagon, using Gazelles in their adverts and even selling them in their stores. Here are some bikespirational links to get you in the mood for the summer cycle.

Someone’s Riding in the State of Denmark

An image from Copenhagen Cycle Chic,
”… the winter cyclist enters the portal in a blaze of silhouette…”

It was my sister who first sent me the link to Copenhagen Cycle Chic. I was in heaven. This is the original (and best) street style blog for cyclists, with a seeming endless supply of cycle-chic photos to amaze and inspire. Twelve months a year, the intrepid Danes ride in their finest – and many with several children attached. But this is only one of many blogs dedicated to stylish bike culture. There’s plenty of motivation to go around:

Check out riders in Toronto at Toronto Bike Chic and Edmonton at Girls on Bikes where Miss Sarah proves that “beauty and cycling do not have to be at odds.” She even provides links to her favourite bike brands, chosen for both substance and style. There are more beautiful pics at Riding Pretty, this time from California. Finally, don’t miss getting a look at What I Saw Riding My Bike Around Today, a New Orleans blog dedicated not only to bikes, but to the joy of experiencing the world from a cyclist’s POV – which is always up close. And all of these bike blogs have lists of their favourite bike blogs, shops and dealers… Fantastic.

Such Stuff as Dreams are Made On

My new/old bike – a summer project

I’ve had two bikes stolen in this city, been hit by a minivan, and taken some falls that have left me with scars. I’ve coasted along the lakeshore in freak autumn snowfalls and rolled away from breakups. People who ride know there is a relationship you develop with a bike that is absolutely intimate, an extension of self. I remember talking to a mechanic about my old CCM Elan. “It’s fast,” I said. “No,” he replied, “you’re fast.” It’s no wonder, then, that bikes inspire documentation.

This photo series by Wes Sumner proves that a bike reflects its owner. It’s worth looking at for good bikes and great style, but Sumner captures more than aesthetic. These images are proof of the connection between the rider and bike.

Kids on Bikes is a Florida band whose goal is to write and record 77 songs about bikes. If the five songs on their Myspace page are any indication, this is going to be a pretty great project. My favourite track, Factory Bike, a sweet ode to beaters: “I don’t want a brand new factory bike/when I could keep the one I have and make it work alright.” Another track, Collision, offers sage advice: “… so try not to ride to close to parked cars.”

And finally – here are two links just for fun:

Check out this offering from Stuff White People Like: “… they love expensive Road Bikes and the accompanying spandex uniforms. This enables them to ride long distances and wear really tight clothes without any social stigmas.”

Or the hilarious Introduction to Dutch Bicycle Culture from Willothewisp outlining cultural differences between cyclists: “The English and Americans wear helmets because in their worlds common sense no longer rules and people must be safe from their own actions at all times.”

Ha.
c.b.

You are a wonderful bunch of moochers. I sent out the call and you rose to the challenge admirably. Picking a winner was harder than I thought. Everyone who responded had something to recommend them and, before I name the new owner of my pretty shoes, I want to start with some Honourable Mentions and favourite quotes:

Well done Martin for being first out of the gate, and for wanting these for someone else. Your describing your friend as having “superb taste” was lovely. (Why don’t we use the word superb more? It’s so deliciously swishy.) Props to Eline for offering this gem: “Also these are my size… and I love you?” The question mark made me laugh out loud. Likewise to TC, for shamelessly appealing to my desire to promote WORN. (Oh, you know me well.) Heidi, your offer to take photos was extremely tempting. I would hope our winner will do just that.

Hailey, you came very close indeed, with your plaintive and eloquent despair over being forced to wear terrible shoes to work. I loved the idea that the wedges would “bring beauty and glamour and pearly, suede-y joy to [your] otherwise dreadful repertoire of summer footwear.” Your photo proof was a brilliant touch. I have added one here as the images themselves were fantastic and worthy of repost.

Sara, your response was equally compelling for several reasons, not the least of which the admission that yours would be a “sob story”. Your matter-of-fact honesty was both dignified and disarming. If only I had twenty pairs of shoes to give!

But ultimately, there can only be one winner. For your wry appeal to both my vanity and sense of humour, the winner is Jessica. (Opening your application by addressing me as “Human Groveling Experiment Director” was a bold move and a stroke of pure genius.) Well done and congratulations!

For all of you who didn’t win, Serah-Marie has generously offered to send you a copy of the WORN SHOE ISSUE for your efforts. (Please email dearworn @ wornjournal.com your mailing addresses.) For my part, your enthusiasm was inspiring. I plan to offer more giveaways in future, as I am forever bringing home unwearable fashion gems that I cannot bear to part with for money, but am more than happy to relinquish for love. (Frankly, my overloaded closet will breathe a sigh of relief.)

Thank you all. You are proof positive that, in fact, WORN readers RULE.
c.b.

Please note: T-Rex is not to scale.

A couple of days ago I had an early dentist appointment. Afterwards I had some time to kill before work, so I thought I’d do a little window shopping. I wasn’t planning on buying anything – until I saw those shoes. They didn’t look like much on the shelf, but there was something that made me want to try them. A combination of pearly patent and black suede, their Deco lines and towering, knife-thin wedges made me think of the Empire State Building. What choice did I have? (One should never pass up the chance to try on footwear that looks like of architecture.)

I put them on and fell in love. Now, I’m usually at least an 8.5, but to my surprise, they felt quite roomy. I slipped into the 8s. They were a little snug, but not bad. That heel was going to force my foot forward, I thought, and the shoe would be sure to stretch. I didn’t want to get stuck with a shoe I kept slipping out of so, after walking around a bit just to be sure, I went with the smaller pair.

They don’t fit.

I wore them to work the next day. Inside of two hours they were cutting into the sides of my foot; my toes were sardines in a very pretty can. Yet every time I looked down I couldn’t bear the idea of giving them up. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. Instead, I went back to the store and bought the exact same shoe in a half-size up.

Now I have these 8s – these barely worn, beautiful 8s that I can’t return and can’t wear – just sitting on my bedroom floor. The good news? They could be yours.

Tell me why you need to have these shoes. The most compelling response (according to my very subjective judgment) wins and that very lucky person gets them. Yes, for free. This is open to anyone, WORN staff included. They wear shoes too, after all.

You can email me or make your case in the comments. You’ve got until Wednesday, June 3 to make your case. There are really only three conditions: First, I’ll pay for postage inside Canada, but outside of that you’re on your own. Second, we at WORN reserve the right to post responses on the site if we choose. Third, if you’re going to the SOL[e]D party, you have to promise not to wear them. Since I bought them twice, I think I should get first dibs on that.

So let’s hear it, Cinderella. Move me.
c.b.

Dinosaur not included.
Shoes are a US size 8, or Euro 38.
Heel measures just shy of 4 inches.