We all know good sunglasses come from a bitchy girl behind the counter at a boutique, she's Sunglass Bitch. Wallpapered in Oakley, D&G and ooh look, Prada, you completely overlook that this swanky place may be called a hut. Sunglass Bitch oozes so much style, look at those high heels, that you’re coddled into believing that you walked into a world where a 19 year old can make six figures selling sunglasses and that is her convertible Porsche in the parking lot. You’re certain she and Paris Hilton are so totally partying tonight at her downtown loft-style condo. Silently, you make plans to set your liberal arts college diploma on fire when you get home.
Maybe there’s something in that intoxicating thick cloud of perfume surrounding Sunglass Bitch, but now you know you haven’t found the right pair of sunglasses till you’ve met her sculpted eyebrow scowl of approval. UV protection, polarization, photochromic…none of that matters anymore. You know you walked through the door a dorky cyclist and you’ll leave at least one hundred fifty dollars lighter, a better looking dorky cyclist carrying a dainty bag which holds your dorky black pleather zippered case and a dorky soft cloth which she insisted is made from baby Alpaca fur. If Sunglass Bitch liked you, you might get a sticker. She'll likely call it a decal. Like showing up on the Sunday racer ride, you’ll never measure up to her Cat 1 style; you can only hope to be a better looking more stylish dork.
After the experience, you yourself become a sunglass bitch. You don’t spin racks of sunglasses at bike shops anymore. Pah-lease. Good sunglasses don’t come on plastic rack with a matching angled 3x4 inch mirror. You don’t take fashion advice from the dreadlocked hipster with the greasy apron who only speaks with his thumbs up or down. Good sunglasses come from a total bitch shrouded in heavenly halogen light in a store with crystal-like glass cases, full length framed mirrors and iPads for cash registers.
|Corey May Be Hurtin' me, but I'm Stylin'|
Even though I feel like I’m cheating on the Sunglass Bitch, for the past two weeks I’ve been sporting a set of Ryders Eyewear Seekers. Sure at first I turned up my nose. They retail for a paltry $89.99 and can probably be found on spinning racks, but I feel as hip and trendy as the day I walked out of the hut holding my dainty bag in my finger tips. “Those are sweet glasses,” my riding buddy with the Harvard Business degree said. Bonus points! I know he drives an expensive car and lives in a condo downtown for realzies. Naturally, I feel worthy of my undergraduate UW diploma again. They’re polarized, which means nothing to the Sunglass Bitch, but I can see the wheel two inches in front of mine traveling at 27mph into the setting July sun. When the road turns up the valley and under the lush canopy of trees on Amsterdam Road in Northern Kentucky, the photochromic lenses lighten automatically, like the headlights on the Sunglass Bitch’s imaginary Porsche. Yeah, $90 bucks, including the tough zippered case and wipey cloth. Did I mention they're scratch resistant? That helps when they fall out of your helmet and slide along the road like a crash during the first week of the Tour.
The cool thing is, you can win these very glasses or any pair on RydersEyewear.com right now by commenting on this blog post before Midnight on Sunday, July 10th. It’s the Tour De Rants p/b Ryders Sunglasses. Take that Sunglass Bitch.
(details in upper right hand column of blog)