I love fashion but I hate you.

Tweed Bicycle Ride

It has come to my attention that certain blokes have put it upon themselves to merge the very Gentlemanly arts of bicycle-riding and tweed-wearing. It is of course, the British.

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Indeed, to me, this is as arousing as anything the San Fernando Valley can excrete.

And while I am all for mixtures of transportation and fabric patterns, there is one thing that rubs my side. I fear that these folks may have donned the tweed for this ride, but tomorrow will find them back into torn skinnies and tshirts with ridiculous slogans. I am, of course, speaking of irony.

Irony, like salt, is best in moderation, I find. A small amount can spice up an outfit, but too much and soon you have a nasty taste in your mouth. The problem is that too much irony usually comes at the expensive of a certain population. When hipsters wear Lee jeans and mesh trucker hats, they are necessarily making fun of the group who wears such clothing as a matter of course. You could argue that no such group no longer exists for tweed (although if the world is worth living in, that would not be true), but the principle is the same. Wearing things ironically, be they a Dolly Parton sweatshirt or Scottish tartans, diminishes everyone, and style should never be about tearing someone down.

And now, on with the show.

For those of you interested, a similar event will be held in The City. Be warned those of high blood pressure, irony will be rampant at the event.

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