I finally gave into peer pressure, and I got myself a new bicycle and a brand spanking new helmet to go with it. When you share an office with one of the main spokespersons of Car-Free Lifestyle you slowly but surely get caught persuaded that it is truly a viable option, even for a girl living in Garðabær and has to commute to the University of Iceland every single day. It’s 35-45 minute (depending on dominate wind) bikeride along Nauthólsvík. I’ve now gone twice on my new retro bicycle to University, but given the recent excessively cold weather, I’m not counting on riding it much more this upcoming fall, but that might change if the weather picks up again. In the meantime I can pimp up my helmet before the next spring/summer season.
The helmet I wound up investing in, is from the Danish design company YAKKAY which offer different styles of covers for your helmet. Truly a brilliant idea for a hipster-wannabe such as my self, only snag is that they are a tad bit expensive, around 8,000 ISK a piece (almost as much as the underlying helmet!), which I can’t really justify buying on a regular basis given my measly PhD budget. Well, either way, and should I say more importantly, the selection they offer in Reykjavík is simply sad. All fashionable “womanly” covers are sold out (or more likely never imported in the first place) meaning either extremely childish or very manish styles at my disposal. Hence, I made my own biker-hat cover AND a new riding friendly trousers (read: narrow ankles) to match it.
I made the helmet by tracing my original YAKKAY cover using a pattern I found online for a similar hat I wanted to recreate as a guideline. Basically stealing the Parisian (noticing a pattern?) style they didn’t have in my size, but in a fabric I happened to have lying around.
The wide at the hips/narrow at the ankles trousers are from my absolute favorite magazine ever, BURDAstyle (cf. #124 from 08/2010). And of course I added this project on their online sewing forum, which I’m finally back in cahoots with after a brief misunderstanding of being an infamous factory girl.
One thing is for certain, I will never take pockets for granted ever again! Note how well the pattern meets together at the seams, I’m well proud of my superb alignment (at least most of the time), or you can take the opportunity to gaze at my form-fitted derrière.
My grandmother calls this kind of fabric “baker” pattern however my mother calls it “salt-and-pepper”. Don’t exactly know which one is correct, so I’ll settle for calling this look seasoned bakergirl. What can I say, I’m a sucker for bad puns.