Black

On the bike...I wear black.

My high-school girlfriend was fond of saying: "I wear black on the outside, because black is how I feel on the inside."

This is not black. She was not my girlfriend, either →

She loved The Cure, and she was goth long before Shirley Manson perfected the vamp and the 'tude.

Johnny Cash wore black.

AC/DC were Back in Black.

The Damned's Black Album is a gem.

The Stones wanted to Paint It, Black.

Er, Why Black?

I came to cycling during the 80s, when color knew no bounds. Look at that lovely, exuberant lady. Admire the neon! Such grace! Such style!

Doesn't she make you cringe?

Cycling in the 80s meant Greg Lemond, neon green, Cannondale, and Wide World of Sports (replete with John Tesh-penned soundtracks).

If you wore this jersey and listened to John Tesh, you, too, would find solace
wearing black and diving deep within the Johnny Cash discography.

But today I am older and wiser. So much so that when I picked up a copy of Bicycling magazine and saw an ad insert for Rapha, I was immediately hooked.

Glory, Glory, Halle-Rapha!

Black and white. The photos and the clothes.

No peloton-passing-through-fields-of-Van-Gogh-inspired-sunflowers photos here.

Gritty, essential; that's the Rapha way.

Hyper-idealized reality? Yep.

Pretentious? Sure.

Stylish? Absolutely.

Grey cobbles, not pink pullovers →

Pricey? Check. But their clothes are exceptionally well-constructed using amazingly high-quality materials. And the customer service is old-school (a very welcome surprise).

Rapha is to cycling style as Paris-Roubaix is to the Giro. It's grey, not pink. Frites, not fettuccine. (No disrespect to the Giro, I'm talking about style. )
 
I love Rapha.

So, Why Do You Wear Black?


Style, baby.

I'm anti-80s (thus defining myself as absolutely 80s).

I'm classic—my little black jersey will never go out of style.

I'm me.