As part of CGR’s Women Lead month, I have invited women led brands to share with us their story about starting a women’s brand in a male dominant industry. In addition, I’ve asked what they are doing to also bring representation to this industry. Through their stories I hope to get women thinking about how we too can support the women’s cycling community and women led businesses to bring more representation to this industry.
To start, I’ve invited Alexis Ring, founder of Lexi Miller, to share with us her story of starting a women’s cycling apparel brand. To do something great and create change, there are often feelings of fear that creep up to tell us that we don’t belong in this space. A feeling many of us experience when starting out.
When I tell people I’m a cyclist, they often ask, “Aren’t you afraid?”
Sure. Riding a bike does bring things like physical injury to mind.
But a bigger sense of fear struck me before I even clipped in, before I ever bought a bike, fueled by thoughts like, “Do I belong here?”
Looking around the streets of San Francisco, all I saw were packs of sleek, spandex clad dudes all dressed as if they were a part of a team or club. Even the solo riders wore something to make it look as if they belonged to something. I thought, well, I have nothing to represent, so maybe cycling isn’t for me.
Nevertheless I eventually bought a bike, and I bought the best of the worst cycling apparel I could find. Quickly, I was hooked. And just as quickly, I got sick of getting dressed to ride, and praying that I would not run into anyone I knew while donned in my mismatched heinous spandex getups.
The women-specific bikes and gear didn’t fit me: physically or aesthetically. I felt like an outsider, a weaker version of the guys, politely asking for my place in this sport, emblazoned with a big ‘GIRL’ mark on my back.
I’m not saying it was malicious or intentional. It just seemed to be the industry’s way of covering the female population with one big brush stroke, and the assumption that we all want flowers and that we are all ok with cheap fabrics that don’t feel good against our skin, and ill fitting, ambiguous sizes. And so this was how I was supposed to represent myself? The other option was, of course to just look like one of the guys…
But I thought, why can’t my spandex be softer without being weaker? Why can’t I have shorts that don’t squeeze my mid-thigh awkwardly? Why MUST I wear bib shorts? I was going for a bike ride, not a wrestling match. I had yet to experience my shorts falling down. And I really enjoyed going to the bathroom without getting half-undressed.
Crazy, I know.
I knew enough to know that cycling demanded specifically functional apparel, and my lululemon tights would not suffice on the bike. But I longed for that kind of modern, age-appropriate aesthetic and luxe tactile feel. I knew it was possible, but I also knew that I’d be shaking up a pretty dogmatic, male dominated scene to suggest anything that questioned the status quo.
I started sketching, sourcing and dreaming. What if we had a jersey that slipped over the head, hugged our bodies with a subtle rouching, complimenting our femininity without screaming “I’M A LITTLE GIRL” just like the Diane von Furstenburg wrap dress did? In my head, I knew I had fabulous ideas, but I also knew that the tastemakers (men, hipsters, pro cyclists, men who want to be pro cyclists) would not care to think outside the box. I mean, why would they? What suited them, suited them (which was the problem).
So when I thought seriously about designing my own line of women’s cycling apparel, the familiar sense of fear set in: “Do I belong here? Am I good enough? Will I be seen as ‘legit’ in this industry?”
But I did it anyway. I thought “WHAT IF?” What’s the worst that could happen? Would I really be heckled off the road? Mmmaybe? Will I get laughed at and told I’m wrong, and I’m not legit? That could happen. But more importantly, WHAT. IF. I. DON’T?
I thought, if I don’t, there will still be this glaring incongruence between the sport that I love, and the clothes I am wearing while doing said fun sport that brings me much joy and happiness. How could something continue to make me both so happy, and so annoyed at the same time? I HAD to do something.
So really, it was the love of the sport that quieted the WHATIFS and propelled me to dig in to the design process.
Sure, there were other motivations, like not wanting to be told what to wear. There was that irreverent rebellion against the establishment. But even more than that, I thought for sure there were other women who loved cycling but who also felt alienated by the sport and its offerings. Enabling the pursuit of that joy is what motivated me to keep going.
Over the last year I’ve made a point to personally get to know some of my customers, and tell their stories on our blog. The universal truth that we all share is that cycling has made our lives better. We’ve all found that elusive joy, and cycling has occupied a precious space in our lives. With each story, each goosebumpy moment that their words resonate with my feelings — that OMG YES moment, the fear recedes further away.
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Photo: Lexi Miller