Bespoke Too Soon: That's a Suit of a Different Color

As I do every morning, I awoke to the crowing of the roosters in my artisanal urban pigeon coop, raised my Craftmatic adjustable bed into an upright position, fired up my cutting-edge tablet device, and checked my Twittar social networking account, where the following Tweat caught my eye:

"Pshaw!," I exclaimed on behalf of a certain person of note who doesn't own a car:

("I'm looking for my car but I can't find it because I don't own one.")

I then answered their question with another question:

Or at least I would have if I had had time. See, the life of an artisanal urban farmer is quite demanding, and I had to go collect the eggs from my artisanal chicken coop so I could make an artisanal omelette to go with my artisanal Froot Loops. Also, it turns out that if you get lazy and don't collect the eggs then more chickens eventually come out of them, and next thing you know your luxury Williamsburg condo looks like this:

The exposed beams lend my home a rustic feel, and the red lighting fixtures are bold yet in keeping with the overall minimalist theme of the loft--minus the thousands of chickens in it, of course.

Incidentally, you may have noticed that beneath Mario Cipollini's pantsless haunches sits a Specialized bicycle, and further to yesterday's post I found myself reading the comments on the Velo-whatever article to which I had linked. Most of the comments consisted of readers relating various other tales of Specialized's insidious litigiousness, though there were a few voices of support for the Red Tide, including this one:

Ok, but Specialized is one of the--if not the single--biggest sponsors of women's cycling...

Well, bully for them, but how much support have Specialized lent to women's flossing?

("Mmm, spinach," forwarded by a reader.)

Actually, as it turns out, quite a lot, for each member of Specialized-lululemon will receive the new S-Works McLaren Venge crabon fiber toothpick:

Laterally stiff yet vertically compliant, the S-Works McLaren Venge toothpick is available in the full range of sizes for every tooth gap, from "micro" all the way to "British." Retail price is $7,000, but you can always skip the S-Works and opt for the $5,000 "Pro" version which uses a different crabon weave while only adding .00007 grams. Sure, retrogrouches will scoff at the notion of a crabon toothpick, but really they should take a good look at themselves, since they pay almost that much for their fancy wooden hand-carved Rivendells:

("Steel is real and wood is good." The complete Rivendell line of dental care.)

I understand a lugged version is already in the offing.

Meanwhile, while perusing my tablet I also learned from James Huang's Tweater that those two Volagi guys (the ones who are getting sued by Specialized) recently filmed a local news segment about the whole affair right off the TV and then uploaded it to a popular online video site, giggling to themselves all the while:

As for the news piece, it cites the Volagi's "never-before-seen features, like disc brakes, and a seat stay that bypasses the seat tube and connects to the top tube:"

Wow. I hope these aren't the "trade secrets" Specialized is claiming Volagi stole, since needless to say both those things have been around for a long, long time. Ultimately I suppose it will all come down to jury selection. Sure, the typical American could easily be convinced that these things are new, but a single bike geek on that jury will sink Specialized's case like the Lusitania.

"Objection!," some guy who looks like Yehuda Moon will shout as he stands up in the jury box. "Hellenic stays, commonly associated with builders like Hetchins, bypassed the seat tube and were first used in 1923. I'd hardly call that 'never-before-seen.' [Gigglechortlegigglechortle.]"

Sure, he'd be fined for contempt of court, but he'd also become a hero of the retrogrouch community, get his face on the front page of the "Rivendell Reader," and maybe even receive a sweet retrogrouch-themed abdominal tattoo:

Though as always, women of all kinds would continue to ignore him.

Speaking of retrogrouchery, it can occasionally flirt with foppishness, and yesterday I took delivery of a garment so outrageously foppish that when I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror I ask myself if I have any Grey Poupon:

Yes, it's Brooks's John Boultbee Criterion Cycling Jacket, and it was made especially for me. It even has my name right on the pocket:

Evidently while I was in London some local hoodlums must have broken into my youth hostel, measured my body, and made me a jacket.

Having only just received the jacket I've worn it once so far, and that was yesterday, during which I took this lousy photograph in the traditional "I have no friends so I'll just hold my phone out in front of myself while riding" fashion:

(When I said I was going "full douche" I really meant it.)

As it happens, yesterday was quite cold (or, as wearers of bespoke jackets call it, "bracing"), and the jacket did keep me sufficiently warm. Besides that, I won't say anything else until I've explored the roughly 900 pockets and managed to wrap my mind around this thing, but if you'd like to help me put it through its paces feel free to do so by throwing gooey things at me as I pass, since this is the sort of treatment wearers of bespoke cycling jackets probably deserve. If you don't know what I look like, I'll be the person who looks like a cross between these guys:

And this guy:

And is riding a bike like this:

Also, instead of simply, say, riding to pick up some diapers, I'll now be performing "urban drifts:"

The above was forwarded to me by Jack Thurston of The Bike Show, and if you're wondering what an "urban drift" is, here's your answer:

The reason for the project is my interest in exploring the connection between urban landscapes and the emotions and actions of the inhabitants of that urban space and looking to see what new insights technology (primarily GPS tracking) and psychogeographic maps can shed on this relationship.

In other words, it's artisanal gerrymandering.

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