photo Roxy Erickson
On Monday 1st August 2011, Brooks England will close its factory doors again after 145 years in business. We wish to take this opportunity to express our gratitude to you, our loyal customers, whose patronage has kept us going from the height of the Industrial Revolution, onward through two world wars, and up to the contemporary ravages of globalisation.
Recently at the international fashion show PREMIUM in Berlin, the organizers of the BERLINER FAHRRAD SCHAU got together some of the busiest labels producing fashionable apparel for cycling for an exhibition entitled “velo couture®“.
There was a time, not very long ago, when a visit to a bike shop rarely evoked a discussion of interior design. But thankfully for the cycling industry professionals who grace (or darken?) hundreds of such doorsteps each year, a change in the workplace is underway and can be witnessed at many of the finest Brooks Dealers of Excellence.
Case in point – en selle Marcel in Paris.
The spring 2011 Rivendell Reader is just off the press, so today seems as good a day as any to celebrate an American cornerstone of the independent lugged steel frame game. A cornerstone which also happens to do a rather decent sideline in prose.
For those of you who have written to applaud us on our previous efforts to create beautiful and unusual advertising, we proudly present an inside look behind the scenes of our latest effort, entitled, “Brooks. Unquestionable British Tradition.”
The late, great Alan Clark declared in his diaries that surely the world’s two greatest repositories of wit must be the Bronx and the Household Division. Were the philandering philologist still alive today, he would surely amend that sentiment to include the Brooks Blog’s Comment Section.
It can surely be no coincidence that so many truly iconic bicycling brands hail from just one island off the north-west coast of the European continent.
At this very moment, countless badgers, innumerable chipmunks, and a close to infinite quantity of bats are drowsily rubbing the sleep from their well rested eyes and wondering what they might like for their first breakfast in about three or four months.
Elsewhere, mile-hungry, be-spandexed gentlemen are standing at their front doors, wondering if the woollen balaclava might not finally be overdoing it a little for their training spin.
