San Francisco Tweed Ride: Riding the Woolen Legend


On July 28th we grabbed our warm layers and suited up for the first official San Francisco Tweed Ride in nearly two years.

It had been so long since the last Tweed ride that when the e-mail arrived, I had forgotten ever signing up for the blasted thing. No, Sir, I thought to myself, I want none of your muted woolens as I wear only the gaudiest jackets whilst velocipeding. Fortunately the barest hint of memory stayed my hand from delivering unto the spam folder the tardy missive.

It was not an advert for heathered dry goods, as I had originally thought. Rather I found that I had been cordially invited to the first fully fledged airing of the motley assortment of Harris, Herringbone, and Houndstooth known throughout Internetdom as the San Francisco Tweed Ride.

Naturally my next thought was what do I wear?


Outside of the excellent Tcho Chocolates

Vintage blouse that belonged to my great-grandmother, handmade cycling corset; deconstructed kilt inspired by Vivienne Westwood AnglomaniaAerotech leather gloves; stuffed into my helmet is my gold leather biker jacket from Zara 

Notice that I'm not wearing any tweed! That's a bad habit left over from Fashion School: must slightly disobey the design briefs given to us by our professors.

Outside of Jacks Cannery Bar

The original BikeHandsome was coordinating nicely in his Christmas Party outfit: Red dress shirt from H&M; thrifted tweed vest from Clothes Contact; Tweed trousers, also from H&M, Gola sneakers

My boots are also looking quite lovely in this shot. They are from my favorite shoe store on the planet: Panca's Designer on Milan's Corso di Porta Ticinese.

During my final year of Fashion School I used to salivate over their window displays  of vintage repro perfection , until I got my Christmas check from the grandparents and took those babies home with me for good (Thanks, Granddad!)

The last stop of the tweed Ride brought us to Goorin Bros. hat shop where I met a very talented & Savile Row trained tailor. Turns out I had made the dreadful faux pas of wearing his family's tartan! Fortunately he forgave me and we spent the rest of the time chatting about Victorian dressmaking techniques.

I also bought a hat.

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