Skirt Police

[image via New Amsterdam Bicycle Show]

Yesterday there seemed to be an unusual number of disconcerting bicycle stories floating around. Among the more bizarre were the news that a woman was stopped by the NYPD for wearing a skirt on her bike. Says a representative of the New Amsterdam Bicycle Show:

Our friend Jasmijn was stopped in SOHO by NYPD for riding in a skirt! The officer said she could distract drivers and cause an accident...and should go home and put pants on.

Cycling in a skirt is, of course, perfectly legal. So when this sort of thing happens, one has to wonder how best to respond to it. After all, it has been shown that just because the officer is technically in the wrong, does not mean that the cyclist will not be ticketed, or even arrested and tried.

But what's more, is that when this story was posted on twitter other women replied that they too have been stopped by police while cycling dressed up - seemingly for no particular reason other than for the officer to comment on their appearance. It happened to me last summer as well. A policeman gestured for me to pull over, only to ask some random question about my bike. When I politely replied, he proceeded to comment on my outfit. Nervously, I kept wondering what law I broke and when he was going to get to the point. Was I required to chat with him? Was there some protocol to treat me as hostile if I didn't? When I finally asked "Excuse me, but can I go now?" He seemed hurt and simply said, "Yeah, sure..." adding "Be careful out there!" half-heartedly. For a while I kept going over the incident in my mind and trying to make sense of it, but it seems he stopped me without any legal purpose what so ever.

On a bicycle we are more noticeable than we are inside a car, and at the same time we can be legitimately pulled over as vehicles. Does us cycling make it easier for the police to abuse their power by supplying them with a reason to pull us over? That's an uncomfortable thought.

How would you respond if a police officer stopped you to comment on your appearance, or to tell you that you can't ride a bike dressed as you are?

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On Bicycles, Women and Politics

[image via Mattijn]

Today is the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day - what began as a European political movement in 1911, but evolved into what is now more like a "women's appreciation day," or, in the former socialist countries, a sort of Mother's Day and Valentine's day rolled into one. As ironic gestures, friends have sent me cards with messages such as "Woman, With Your Daily Acts of Goodness You Inspire Us!" showing a Polyanna-esque maiden feeding forest animals amidst flower blossoms.

[image via I am Cheapskate]

Though I am fairly well versed on gender in the academic sense,  I did not personally care much about gender "issues" until I became interested in bicycles and cycling. Something about the latter turned the former into a more poignant topic, and I find myself writing about gender-oriented themes here that would not have been on my mind a few years ago. I feel vaguely unsettled about the way female cyclists are perceived and depicted by the very cycling community they belong to. I get the same feeling of unease from the pictures on Copenhagen Cycle Chic as I do from that Woman's Day card showing the angelic girl feeding forest animals.

[image via Julie Tjorneland]

Equally distasteful to me is the school of thought that women cyclists "bring it upon themselves" by being all sexy and frivolous on their bikes wearing skirts and high heels. If they want to be taken seriously as cyclists, they must don practical shoes and high-vis wear. It's been decades since similar rhetoric about women has been acceptable in Western society. But apparently the cycling community is an exception.

[image via R A C]

Besides, don't roadies and tri-athletes wear far more revealing clothing than women going grocery shopping in a dress and heels? At the heart of it, it's really all about how one chooses to twist it politically, which in turn is based on personal preferences and prejudices.

[image via macfred64]

And what is the difference between politics and personal philosophies? Let's Go Ride a Bike has a post today where they ask "Is bicycling political?" - which I think is more or less a trick question: a contemporary truism, whereby any "no" answer will inevitably be demonstrated to be just as political as a "yes" answer. It reminds me of the arguments I had in college with people who would tell me that being a woman is political, whether I wanted it to be or not. According to those arguments, everything I do is inherently political because I am a woman, and I have no way of escaping that. But don't I?

I think that in order for the political question to be addressed meaningfully, we have to distinguish the way others perceive us from our inner world - and while the two are connected, they are not one and the same. Any action on our part, as well as our very existence, can be perceived as political by others. But if we don't experience it politically, then it is a basic human right for our inner experience to be recognised as valid. A woman's cycling and her gender may be politically perceived by others, but they may not be politically experienced by her - with both points of view having equal merit.

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My Concessions to the Bicycle

In the past, I've expressed my view that an effective transportation bicycle is one that "allows us to be ourselves" - meaning that we should not have to change the way we dress or lead our lives in order to ride it. Recently a reader called me on this, asking the following (edited) question over email:

You write that you do not believe in compromising personal style when it comes to cycling for transportation and I am wondering just how far you take this idea. Have you really never made any compromises in your wardrobe in order to commute by bike? 

That is a good point, and I did not mean to imply that I never compromise on my clothing choices in order to cycle for transportation.

For one thing, I have stopped wearing high heels since I began cycling. While I know that many women find it perfectly natural to cycle in heels and I admire this ability, I myself cannot do it in a way that makes me feel safe and comfortable. I was willing to give up heels, because my relationship with them was already waning - the bike was simply the last straw. Throughout my late teens and all of my twenties, I pretty much wore 3-3.5" heels all the time. In fact, my body got so trained to the resulting posture, that my lower back would hurt when I would attempt to wear flat shoes! The wisdom of having done that for so many years is a separate topic, but either way - I somehow grew out of it, or maybe just became more messy/natural over time, and gradually lost the addiction to towering footwear. My point being, that by the time I gave them up altogether in order to feel safe on my bicycle, it no longer felt like a sacrifice. 10 or even 5 years ago it would have been a problem, but not now.

Another wardrobe adjustment since I began cycling, has been my choice of skirts. I wear almost exclusively skirts and dresses, and they vary in design. I have always favoured "a-line" styles, which flare out at the bottom, over "pencil" styles, which fit tightly around the knees. I do own a couple of pencil skirts and skirt-suits that I am fond of, but I cannot wear them on a bicycle at all, as they constrain both my pedaling and my ability to mount the bike. Hiking the skirt up does help, but it wrinkles the fabric, shows my underpants to the world, and is just generally too much hassle for me. So I have mostly stopped wearing pencil skirts, favouring a-line, pleated, flared, fluted and full styles instead. I also cannot wear super-mini skirts on a bike, because somehow the hem tends to catch on the back of the saddle when I dismount. Again, not really a huge sacrifice, as I've mostly stopped wearing mini skirts anyway.

And finally, on the hottest days of summer, I seldom wear solid pastel colours since I started cycling - especially blouses - because they show sweat stains. Instead, I opt for florals, paisleys, stripes, or some other pattern that disguises sweating. It's a useful trick for cycling in extreme heat and humidity while still wearing work clothing.

While I do make some compromises in the way I dress in order to ride a bicycle comfortably, I feel that they are relatively minor and don't sacrifice my sense of individuality. It's one thing for someone like me to stick to a-line skirts and to stop wearing high heels when I was already in the process of abandoning them. But it would be another thing to suddenly start wearing pants, sneakers and neon windbreakers in order to commute on a diamond frame roadbike. It's basically a difference between making compromises "within your stylistic comfort zone" vs. changing your style entirely. So the next question is: What if wearing high heels is super-important to someone and they view it as a crucial part of their identity, yet they cannot cycle in heels? Well, if they are absolutely unwilling to give up the heels, they have two options really: to make an extra effort to get comfortable cycling in them, or to choose other transportation options. Riding a bike is not for everyone and it can't be forced if other priorities overshadow the desire to cycle.

But on a separate note, it is worth considering that style evolves. Our choice of clothing is a function of how we live our lives, and the way we dress can change over time - influenced by a myriad of factors. Who is to say that cycling cannot be one of them? I am curious to see how something like that would play out in the wardrobe of, say, a corporate lawyer or a diplomat. Could be interesting! 

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The Drop Frame Bicycle - The 'Queen of Safeties' Returns

[image via Atomic Antiques]

Browsing through my favourite vintage bicycle posters, I've always noticed something unusual about the ones of the Boston-based Overman Wheel Co.: The lady's bicycle appeared to have only a single curved tube - rather than a down tube and a top tube, like the vintage loop frames we are accustomed to seeing. Could this be artistic license for the sake of making the graphics simpler, or did bicycles like this really exist? Several times I had tried to investigate, until finally I found what I was looking for:

[image via the Smithsonian Institution]

The Overman Wheel Co. "Victoria" - a "drop frame woman's safety bicycle," according to the Smithsonian. It had 28" wheels, rod-like brakes, what appears to be some sort of suspension contraption on the fork, an enormous saddle, high handlebars, and a chainguard. Finally, confirmation that the bicycle hinted at in the posters was a real model. And for a machine that was manufactured in 1889, the Victoria looks awfully familiar...

[image via Bikes for the Rest of Us]

And you thought this design was funky and new, eh? Bicycles in this style have been popping up in Europe with increasing frequency over the past 5 years, and have recently made their way to the US as well: A single, oversized curved tube connecting the head tube and the seat tube - sometimes with reinforcements and sometimes without, combined with a suspension fork, suspension seat post, plush saddle and high handlebars.

[image via Tom Coghlan]

The reasoning behind the single curved tube design, is that it allows for extra low step-over height, making the bicycle especially accessible for those who wear long, loose clothing, as well as for those who have balancing problems when mounting even the standard step-through frames. And the funny thing is, that while everyone agrees that the low step-over is beneficial, many also complain about how "ugly and modern" it is. I wonder how many are aware that the "drop frame" design is in fact 120 years old!

[image via The Daily Postcard]

As I've mentioned here earlier, I think that any design that makes the bicycle more accessible to those who would otherwise be intimidated by it, is a good design. With its super-low step-over, the drop frame is inviting and safe-looking - no wonder the original was described as "the queen of safeties". Having ridden a few modern versions of these bikes in Austria a couple of years ago, I found them easy to deal with. But I wish there was a way to make them look and feel a little nicer. The suspension fork on the modern bikes is probably there because the aluminum frame makes them painful to ride over bumps. But the suspension has the side-effect of creating a "bouncy" feeling that  does not give the cyclist optimal control of the bicycle. I wonder how the original Overman bicycles were made: Were the frames lugged? Was the ride comfortable? I suppose we will never truly know how these compared to today's bikes. 

I think the modern reincarnation of the drop frame is a great idea in principle, if only it could be made more elegant. What do you think of the vintage and modern versions? - could you benefit from the low step-over, or do you find the regular step-through designs sufficient?

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User Friendly Interface

Now that it's winter, I find that strangers talk to me more than usual about cycling - typically when they see me locking up my bike. Over the past couple of weeks, several women have told me that they'd love to ride a bike, but find the logistics daunting: having to buy lights and figure out how to mount them; constantly getting flats (something they remember from previous cycling experiences); having to figure out how to carry their handbag, struggling to mount the bike in business attire, and other similar concerns. Their misgivings are fueled by the perception that cycling will complicate their lives - compared to walking, or taking public transportation, or driving.

What frustrates me about this, is that all of their concerns can be addressed with the right bike. As I explain about step-through frames, dynamo lighting, tires with puncture-protection, dress guards, chain cases, and panniers that attach to the bicycle's rack in seconds, I can see the ladies' faces light up as they eye these features hungrily.

One woman tried to step through my frame in her skirt-suit and squealed with delight when she was able to do it. She had never tried anything other than a mountainbike before. She said: "I knew you had a special type of bike! It's got this... user-friendly interface!" That phrase echoed in my mind for some time.

Even though I enjoy learning about bicycle design and own multiple bikes on which I constantly experiment, I am first and foremost a "transportation cyclist." My main priority is to have that one bike that is reliable, comfortable, and as low-maintenance as possible. The bicycle I use for transportation needs to make life easy for me. It needs to minimise the extent to which I think about it and tinker with it - so that I can focus on work and life itself, not on the bicycle.  Skirt suit? Heavy bag?  Dark outside? Raining like crazy? The "user friendly interface" on my machine accommodates all of these scenarios.

Many manufacturers are making what they are calling "transportation bicycles" nowadays, but not all of these bikes work for everyone. When a woman wearing a skirt suit walks into a bike store and says she would like to start cycling to work, my hope is that the salesperson will point to the section with the right kind of bicycle for her - rather than saying "Well, you won't be able to do it wearing that!" A user-friendly interface means that we should all be able to do it. Holiday wish: more elegant, practical, comfortable bicycle options for the women in skirt-suits who feel out of place in bike shops. It's getting better, but we aren't there yet.

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Something Special

Having a special bicycle is not about following the latest chic trend. It is not about hunting down a frame made of famous tubing. It is not about obsessing about period-correct components. And it is not about trying to evoke a specific country of origin. It's really about focusing on your preferences and your needs. Only you can make your bicycle uniquely yours.

My fellow Bostonian C.P. - or "cycler" on Biking in Heels - has done an impressive job in this regard.  Her bicycle, Gilbert, is completely and utterly hers - and very special. CP comes from a family of cyclists and has ridden a bike for as long as she can remember. But it was not until she lived in Italy as a young adult, that her love of city bicycles with step-through frames was ignited. Upon returning to the US, she brought a vintage Italian city bike with her, and the rest is history. An architect by profession and a DIY enthusiast by nature, C.P. enjoys wrenching on her own bikes and now owns a modest stable of vintage ladies' models from the 1930s through the 1970s.

As her ultimate bicycle for transportation, C.P. wanted something that handled like her favourite vintage bikes, yet was as clean and reliable as a new bike. And so her project began. She rescued a 1970s Raleigh Lady's Sports frame and fork, and had them repainted a colour she loved. She bought a suitable chaincase and had it painted to match, along with the fenders. She built modern wheels with alloy rims around a Shimano 8-speed hub in the rear and a Shimano dynamo hub in the front.

Gilbert's set-up includes handsome and effective lighting,

cushy cream tires,

front and rear racks for maximum hauling capacity,

Nitto "Albatross" handlebars with city brake levers and a classic bell,

a wheel stabiliser,

and, last but not least, this fantastic fishing creel basket, made of wicker with leather accents. For the holidays, the basket is decorated with battery-operated Christmas lights. Eccentric? Delightfully so! I imagine this style of basket is quite useful for storing small to medium objects within reach, secured by the closed lid. One thing that never fails to impress me about Biking in Heels, is the amount of stuff "cycler" is able to carry on that bike. This has included: a stack of shipping parcels, large plants, household appliances, and building supplies - most of these, of course, on the rear rack and not in the creel basket. While the Raleigh Lady's Sports was not specifically designed as a utility bike, it seems that Gilbert cab haul pretty much anything.

Given the way Gilbert came into existence, it is difficult to categorise him. The bicycle is no longer a vintage  Raleigh 3-speed, yet it certainly isn't a modern bike either. But why categorise him at all? You will not find another like him in any catalogue or bicycle blog. Gilbert is C.P.'s personal bicycle, and he is unique. Visit them both at Biking in Heels.

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What Our Hands Can Do

Looking over these photos from the Friday after Thanksgiving, I noticed something interesting: Almost everything pictured here is hand-made. The dress I am wearing was made by my mother. The hat and scarf were made by me. Even the bicycle was hand-made by an Italian frame builder for Bella Ciao. This combination was not intentional, but once I noticed it, I found it striking. 

My mother knitted this elaborate wool dress for herself in the early 1980s and wore it all through her 20s and 30s, after which point she gave it to me. The dress suited her much better, but that has not stopped me from wearing it since I were a teenager. It only occurred to me recently how remarkable it is for a dress like this to survive being worn for three decades by two different women - neither of whom are at all gentle with their clothing. And yet here it is, still looking fresh and current. The tailoring, the textural variation, and the attention to detail are incredible by today's standards - and my mother made tons of this stuff when I was a child, while being a busy career woman, too. (I remember seeing her knit while speaking on the phone and reading a book about mathematics at the same time... )

While my own attempts at knitting are fairly pedestrian compared to my mother's past projects, they do have one feature in common: longevity. I knitted this scarf back in grad school, and 8 years later it remains alive and well, while countless store-bought ones have since fallen apart. My friends, for whom I've made clothing as far back as high school, give me the same feedback - some of them still wear the things I made in the mid-'90s. Noticing this was a big reason why I started to knit and sew again this year: I am not that great at it, but the stuff I make lasts and fits me better than store-bought.

Over this past year I have done something a little nuts: I've sold or given away most of my clothing - stuff that I had collected and saved for more than 10 years. When I was younger, I was into edgy fashion and quirky designers, but lately that interest has all but faded - replaced by a curiosity regarding how far I can go making things on my own. Aside from knitting, I have been cutting up some of my remaining old clothing and handsewing "new" clothes out of it. Hopefully I will get a sewing machine for the holidays, which will allow me to take things further. In the past I have dabbled in making my own fountain pens as well. And eventually - maybe, just maybe, I would like to try my hand at building bicycle frames - or at least designing them à la Grant Petersen.

While my framebuilding days are not yet on the horizon, I do have enormous respect for bicycles hand-made by others, and an insatiable curiosity about the process. Whether independent framebuilders such as JP Weigle, Peter Mooney, Royal H. and ANT, or small manufacturers such as Mercian, Rivendell, Velo Orange and even Pashley and Bella Ciao - I am impressed by the sheer amount of work and consideration it takes to get the design, the construction, and the finishing just right. The more I learn about the process, the more overwhelming it seems. In a world of homogenous, mass-produced goods, it is amazing to witness what our minds and our hands are capable of creating.

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OYB Pannier: a Modified Swiss Army Bag for Your Bike

The OYB Pannier is a small Swiss army surplus bag, modified via the addition of rack attachments and other features by Jeff Potter - the owner and author of the project Out Your Backdoor ("indie outdoor lore and more"). I purchased this bag as a smaller alternative to the enormous shopper pannier I normally use. My criteria were durability, classic aesthetics, a trustworthy attachment system, a reasonable price, and a size just large enough to snugly fit my medium format camera equipment or my (very small) laptop. While I am aware that these same bags (without the bike-ready modifications) can be purchased from several other sources, I opted for the OYB version because I wanted the modifications to be made by someone with experience and because I wanted to support the "Out Your Backdoor" project, which provides some great resources for its readers.

Compact and boxy, the pannier is a Swiss military bag made of a thick, stiff, olive-green waxed canvas with brown leather trim and steel rivets. The OYB leather patch is a lighter shade than the rest of the leather on the bag, but this can easily be changed with a modest application of neatsfoot oil or even Proofide. I am not sure whether this particular bag started out as new-old-stock, or whether it had been used in its previous life, but to me it looks more like the former. The condition is better than I had expected based on the pictures and product description on OYB.

The closure system is simple and secure: That very stiff leather cord pulls out of the metal loop, and the thick leather strap lifts up off the loop to open the bag. For those curious, the imprint on the leather reads "Fritz Gerber Sattlerei, Goldbach."

The attachment system is a combination of metal hooks and bungee cords, with which the pannier is secured to the rear rack. The rack I have on this bicycle is the Constructeur rack from Velo Orange, which is quite small. 

Here is a close-up of the metal hooks. They are riveted on to the bag.

And here is a close-up of the bungee attachment. Together, these two attachment points ensure that the pannier does not sway or bounce against the rack - a good feature when you are planning to carry camera equipment. When the bag is not being used as a pannier, the bungee hook attaches to that small leather strip you see on the back of the bag - so that it does not hang loose. [Edited to add: I am now told that the bungee cord is supposed to go through that leather loop before you hook it to the bottom of the rack - oops.]

In addition to the rack attachments, the OYB pannier can be ordered with a number of other optional features, including shoulder strap attachments with a removable shoulder strap. I asked for the strap, because I pan to carry the bag around when off the bike, and this set-up essentially this gives me a camera bag and pannier in one. Other options include lights mounts, and a variety of other attachments.

To give you a sense of scale, here is the pannier in relation to me and to the entire bike. It is a small bag. Dimensions are listed as: 8.5" tall, 4" deep, 11.25" wide (5.4 liters).  Inside, the length of the bag is listed at 10.75", but I was hoping against hope that it would fit my laptop. OYB gives instructions for stretching the bag out with magazines in order to make it fit items of that size, and I will give this a try. If I can get my laptop to fit, I will be thrilled - but I am not getting my hopes up and am prepared to content myself with this being a camera bag only.

If it were not for the laptop fit issue, this would pretty much be my dream pannier.  The mil-spec colour scheme is not for everyone, but I love it, and it suits almost all of my bikes nicely. The durability of military surplus items is superb, and I appreciated getting the bag customised by Jeff at OYB. This is a classic, versatile, and reliable little pannier refashioned by someone who loves bicycles.

edited to add: I have sold the pannier since the review, only because it was too small for me. I loved everything else about it.

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Winter Hibernators

With temperatures now falling below 40˚F, there is no denying that winter will soon be here. As I rode through a stretch of frozen mud this morning, it finally began to seem real: The snow, the black ice, the heavily salted roads - it's all coming. And once it does, I will be putting most of my bicycles away, keeping around only those equipped to take on winter's fury.

The bicycles destined for "hibernation" are those that have derailleur gearing: my roadbikes, and, sadly my mixte. The ones staying are my 3-speed loop frames with internally geared hubs and chaincases. I will also tentatively keep my fixed gear bike.

Everybody has a different philosophy regarding what makes a bicycle suitable for winter. Having seen countless cyclists struggling with derailleur bikes last winter in Boston - as well as many bikes abandoned, their drivetrains iced over or rusted - I am pretty comfortable with my decision to only ride internally geared hub bicycles once the snow arrives. While I am sad to put away my beautiful mixte after only a few months together, I would be even more sad to ruin her with salt and crud while she is still so new and shiny.

What are your thoughts on "winter bikes" versus "hibernators"?  Do you put any of your bicycles away for the season, or ride them all?

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Reaching a Non-Cycling Audience

I received a copy of the first issue of Anthology magazine in the mail today - sent to me, because they ran a feature on Lovely Bicycle. I knew they'd made some illustrations based on my photos, but I did not expect to see a cartoon version of myself and the Pashley Princess (depicted complete with cream tires!) cycling through a cartoon version of Boston. Funny! Unlike the real me, my cartoon self likes to cycle in high heels - so perhaps she can teach me a thing or two!

The story they ran included an edited version of my "Bicycles for Everyday Cycling" page, which I hope will be helpful to readers of the magazine who are considering purchasing their first bike.

I think it's neat that Anthology presented the information as an "anatomy lesson" and made its own hand-drawn illustrations (by Kris Atomic). This makes the text a lot more engaging than my original version (I read it with interest!) - and achieving that is important for print publications trying to compete with online media. I can imagine somebody who is not into cycling at all picking up this magazine in their local coffee shop or book store and getting drawn into the article, becoming curious about bicycles as a result.

In addition to the "Anatomy of a Lovely Bike" article, there was also a beautiful feature on Meligrosa of Bikes and the City with her cool mixte, as well as a helpful piece on shopping for bicycles and accessories.

One reason I am pleased to be featured in Anthology, is because they are not a cycling publication, but a more general lifestyle magazine. Before I began Lovely Bicycle, there was a period of a year or so when I vaguely wanted  a bike but did not know how to even begin looking for one that was right for me. There was a disconnect between the sort of bicycle I wanted and what was available in most bike shops at the time, and I simply did not know where else to get information. A series of bike-related articles like the ones Anthology published would have helped me, and I hope that they can now help others. Besides, I just love the idea of things like dress guards, chain cases and "lugged steel construction" being presented as standard features. I hope that women walk into bike shops and ask for them, as casually and matter-of-factly as they would ask for cake in a bakery.

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Do Women Want Custom Bicycles?

Not surprisingly, my beautiful mixte by Royal H. Cycles has been making quite a splash. People ask about the bicycle, and when I say that it was custom built the reactions are interesting. Several men (including framebuilders) have asked whether it was a gift from my husband or boyfriend - meaning, whether he was the one who ordered the frame for me, interacted with the builder, etc. Others have asked whether the framebuilder is my boyfriend. And others still have noted the amazing amount of detail for a women's frame and asked whether it was built as a NAHBS bike (show bike) - which is mostly where one would see such a mixte. When I explain that I was the one who ordered the frame, thought up the criteria for it, specified the design features, etc., all without a male intermediary, this is met with amazement. And having thought about it, I doubt this has anything to do with sexism. Rather, I think it is about statistics: According to the framebuilders I have talked with, women do not typically take the initiative to order custom hand-built bicycle frames. The more common scenario, is that a male framebuilder builds the bicycle for his female significant other, or a male bicycle lover orders it for his spouse. 

[image via mapcycles]

Thinking about that has made me wonder how women feel about handbuilt bicycles. Do they want them? Or do they perceive the process as either too daunting, or not worth the money or time it takes? 

[image via JP Weigle]

At NAHBS and other handmade bicycle shows, mixtes and step throughs have become increasingly popular over the past several years. One might even say that it is now almost de rigueur for classic framebuilders to include a mixte in their portfolio. Does this not mean that there has been an increase in demand for ladies' bikes? 

[image via Boedie Cycles]

To an extent, I am sure there has been some increase in demand (and here again we must differentiate between women ordering the bicycles versus their spouses ordering for them). But for the most part, I believe the appearance of women's bicycles at handbuilt shows is mainly symbolic - reflecting the increasing number of women cycling for transportation in American cities. 

[image via YiPsan Bicycles]

Additionally, a mixte frame is more challenging to build than a diamond frame. It involves more elaborate brazing and lugwork - giving the framebuilder the opportunity to truly show off the extent of their skills. When done right, a mixte can embody elegant design at its most stunning. 

[image via antbike]

So what about the ladies? Do they ever call up a framebuilder and order a bike for themselves? I am not saying that it never happens, and a few builders in particular (ANT, for example) seem to attract female customers. There is also the "lady framebuilder" Sweetpea, which caters specifically to women. But overall, it isn't typical. If you browse framebuilders' websites and flickr accounts that include narratives about recently made bicycles, you are more likely to find descriptions such as "this mixte was commissioned by Joe for his lovely wife Mary" than "this mixte was commissioned by Mary". Will this change as the number of female cyclists grows? I hope so! It would be fun to argue with another female about seat tube angles and lugwork. 

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