“What is the well-dressed cyclist
wearing these days?”, I hear you ask me. “Or back in those early
days?” I am glad you asked because Rodale Press' excellent book,
“The Art of the Cycling Jersey,” subtitled “Iconic Cycle Wear
Past and Present,” shows us that looking good and going fast are
not mutually exclusive.
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| Copenhagen 2011: The British National Team leads Mark Cavendish to victory at the World Championships |
British
author Chris Sidwell's latest book addresses an area that has been an
empty shelf on my gargantuan bookshelf. We have books on famous
races, famous riders, suffering amateurs, the training programs they
suffer with, custom bicycles, vintage bicycles, components (yes, we
have both the original and revised editions of “the Dancing Chain," a history of the derailleur) and even variations of road surfaces in
Belgium, to say nothing of daunting climbs and disastrous
around-the-world rides. It is about time that somebody recognized
the role of the cycling jersey in our sport and this elegant and
attractive book is welcome indeed.
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| The Tour de France King of the Mountains jersey, little changed since its introduction in 1975 |
The
book is set out chronologically. In the early days riders did not
really have cycling-specific clothing in the first races but there
was a realization that clothing should be more form-fitting to offer
less wind resistance as well as appropriate to the weather
conditions. During the first Tour de France racers did not ride in
teams and were free to choose their own gear. The winner of that
first race in 1903, Maurice Garin, wore a distinctive white jacket to
keep cool. In a pre-yellow jersey move, race officials gave him a
green armband to distinguish him as the race leader. While jackets
had their place, it was the sweater's evolution that began the march
towards the jersey as we know it.
“The first cycling jerseys were plain wool, but bicycle
manufacturers who sponsored early professional riders soon saw the
publicity possibilities of having their names on the jerseys. So in
the early years of the twentieth century, bike manufacturers' names
were embroidered onto some woolen jerseys, often in a rough copy of
the script used in the manufacturer's logo. They were stitched by
hand, using the same think wool the jersey was made from, although in
a contrasting color. This relatively crude method was improved with
the introduction of lighter, thinner wool yarns to make cycling
jerseys. The embroidered letters on some of these were quite
exquisite.”
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| 1926 The three Pelissier brothers riding for Dilecta-Wolber
The first chapter of the book covers this early evolution and focuses on some of the notable teams that made their mark, at the finish line and in fashion statements. These included the blue jerseys of Alcyon, the French team whose riders won a dozen Tours de France on the way to victory in 120 world-class races; Legnano, the team of Gino Bartali, with its green jerseys with red sleeves; and Atala, a team that existed from 1908 to 1989, with striped jerseys (“reminiscent of the clothing you might expect jail inmates to wear”) and the company name in a flourished italic script.
The
next section of the book deals with the World Champion's rainbow
jersey, created in 1927, and a number of celebrated National Champion
jerseys from the Promised Lands of Cycling: France, Belgium and
Italy. It is clear that the author pines for the days of simpler
jersey designs and disapproves of the watering-down of the impact of
these iconic symbols, notably the Italian one which seems to have
become subsumed in the colours of the team sponsor.
The
Grand Tour jerseys, on the other hand, still retain their power,
although it seems as if Vuelta organizers have not always been ready
to settle on a particular colour for their race leader so the three
jerseys of the Tour—yellow, green, and polka dot—and the Giro's
maglia rosa get subchapters to themselves. The Yellow
Jersey, introduced in 1919, may be the single most celebrated article
of clothing in sports.
|
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| 1966 Tour de France: eventual winner Lucien Aumar following Raymond Poulidor |
“The man with the most yellow jerseys to his name is Eddy Merckx,
who wore it 96 times between 1969 and 1975, on the way to winning
five Tours de France. Another five-time winner, Bernard Hinault of
France, is second, with 73 days in yellow....Only four men have held
the Tour de France yellow jersey every day from start to finish of a
single Tour...”
 |
| Jacques Anquetil (left), one of France's greatest cyclists, never won the French National Championship |
Along
with the history of the teams we are given an enlightening look at
the development of the jersey from the sweater to a sort of polo
shirt with front pockets, from wool to not-entirely-succesful
wool/synthetic blends to the current clothing made from high-tech
materials that fit the form exactly, so that time trial skinsuits,
meant for the aero position, are actually awkward to walk in. There
are different weights for different weather and a range of designs
that vary from simple and elegant to garish and, well, embarrassing.
The book concludes with modern jerseys, and a set of the jerseys used
in the 2016 UCI World Tour.
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| Les bleus--the 2016 French National Team |
It is
perhaps to the author's credit that he does not single out the worst
jersey designs of the past (and present). The famous saying “de
gustibus non est disputandum” (“there is no disputing about
taste”) probably applies here since everyone has their own views.
For example, the Mapei jersey, with its vibrantly coloured plastic
blocks, seems to annoy many but is also considered a classic. Mr.
Sidwells is keen on the Carrera outfit, with its psuedo-denim look,
and worn most effectively by Stephen Roche in his miraculous year
(the Giro, the Tour, the Worlds) in 1987. So we are not given a
chance to ridicule bad designs; I leave it to the reader to look up
the 2010 Footon-Servetto team kit or the Castorama ones that made the
riders look like housepainters or toys from Gepetto's workshop.
Brrr...
This
book focuses entirely on professional racing and does not cover the
clothing choices of enthusiastic amateurs. The introduction by
former Bicycling Editor-in-chief Bill Strickland is more tuned to
this element:
“The jersey! The most dominant value of the cycling aesthetic, and
one of its simplest components, yet also the one most laden with
subtext and potential ironies and sincerities and affiliations and
memories and references often unknown to the wearer A jersey can be
a nod to a team, a racer, an era, a fabric, a design sense, a
remembrance, a personal experience, an aspiration, or else simply
come in a color we really like and that happened to be in our size.”
We are
not going to enter the argument of whether it is good or bad form for
amateurs to wear pro team kit—fans in other sports have no issues
with this—but just remember that in his early racing days Greg
Lemond showed up in a yellow jersey to the amusement of other
competitors whom he then thrashed.
I would like to admit that I have a 2001 Mapei World Championship jersey (Oscar Freire's second title) that I wear but I only wear it while on my home trainer in the basement and never, ever outdoors where someone could see me.
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| Except for the jersey I look nothing like this. Photo credit: Mapei Madness |
All photos courtesy of Rodale Books unless otherwise noted
“The Art of the Cycling Jersey—Iconic Cycle Wear Past and Present”
“The Art of the Cycling Jersey—Iconic Cycle Wear Past and Present”
by
Chris Sidwells
224
pp., hardcover, profusely illustrated
Rodale
Books, 2017
ISBN:
978-1623367374
Suggested Price:
US$27.99/C$32.50
For more information: https://www.rodalebooks.com/art-of-the-cycling-jersey/
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