WIGGO LOVES THE SMITHFIELD

Review: Road Rags Smithfield Merino Jersey

I've developed a love affair with merino wool; it's incredibly breathable, it stays warm even when it gets damp, and it doesn't smell! What more could you want from a material; certainly I haven't found a synthetic fibre that comes close to it.

Road Rags is a London based brand that produces a small but beautifully designed and thought-out range of merino products for male and female cyclists. The products are made to be versatile cycling tops, that will provide incredible comfort both in the saddle and sat at the café at the end of a long ride.


Winter may be coming to an end, but there is still a definite nip in the air, and the beauty of merino wool is its versatility in so many climates; it will keep you warm in the cold air, but when it starts to heat up the breathability will come into its own. The Smithfield is Road Rag's perfect springtime cycling top; over the last few weeks I've been enjoying its quality and comfort on my spring rides, and thought I would share my thoughts on it.

First of all, I have to mention the packaging that the Smithfield arrived in. If you are thinking of sending one of the Road Rags products as a gift, don't worry about wrapping! The beautiful black box was laced in a glittering ribbon and the top itself was shrouded in a deep purple tissue paper. Without a doubt this is the nicest product packaging that I have seen, and it goes a long way to setting a great impression.

Right, onto the top itself...

Delicately picking up the Smithfield from its wrapping and slipping it on, you feel that the merino wool that has been used by Road Rags for this top is something a bit different from the norm; it is softer, warmer and feels lighter. Indeed it is a bit special; a finer grade than you find in many merino products, this wool has more fibres per inch, and is resultantly a significantly higher quality. Not only does this mean that you will be kept warmer, by a softer feeling garment, but it has the added advantage of coping admirably with the rigours of the 30'C machine wash and with constant hours of use.


The styling of the Smithfield is perhaps best described as retro-classic. Its raglan sleeves, turtle neck collar and slim close-fitting cut definitely have a unique look, and a great one at that. Those features are there for a reason though; that high collar whilst increasingly fashionable, is also an incredibly effective neck warmer come buff. The raglan sleeves can be rolled down and tucked inside a pair of gloves, with thumb loops to stop them slipping up; this is a sure-fire way of keeping the warm blood flowing to your extremities. Then the close fitting cut will mean that warmth you are generating from your hard work is kept close to your skin.

The Smithfield is an incredibly versatile top; I've worn it as a base layer and on its own. As a base layer it is beautifully warm, and even on the coldest mornings it has kept my core temperature toasty. As a jersey it is great option as spring time warms up; keeping you cool and comfortable, features like the perforated under-arms mean that temperature regulation is successfully managed. It should be noted that there are no rear pockets on the Smithfield, so if you are wearing it as a jersey you'll need a saddle bag or cut-down bottle to store your kit in, but that is a minor quibble.

The Smithfield really is a pleasure to wear; providing hours and hours of comfort and warmth. You'll find it is a top that you never want to take off, which is handy as merino has that great property of not smelling like synthetics, and when you do come to put it in the machine it comes out almost dry. I'm looking forward to many many more miles of beautiful temperature regulation and feel.

At £115 many may turn their nose up at the price, but as with most things you get what you pay for; the quality and durability of the Smithfield means it will be around for a long time, and won't wrinkle up and die like cheaper merino products. The bottom line is that if you can afford to splash out on it, it's a no-brainer.

Overall, the Smithfield is a fantastic Autumn/Winter/Spring top; in fact I dare say that I could be wearing this on chilly summer mornings on touring trips. It's incredibly versatile, and provides unparalleled comfort and warmth levels. Go merino and you'll never go back.

L'Eroica 2013

After the three musketeers that are the McCormack family had such a great time at L'eroica last year I guess it was inevitable that we should decide to join them for this years ride. Don't know how we are going to arrange the accommodation and transportation but an adventure awaits...

Like all best plans ours has been hatched in the pub. The Flask in Highgate to be exact after a cold and wet ride around the hillocks of North London. The plan is for a team of four. Over the next few months we are going to build up classic British lighweights, all 531 tubing, each from a different manufacturer. Prepare them in our very own style, stripping back and four dip chroming the frame, though this time thinking of adding something a little patriotic, maybe a Union Jack on the rear stays or something similar ... something a little bit 'Italian Job'...

So first up has to be the Hetchins we have, there will be a fight to ride this one, but I'm sure the frame fits me best!

See attached a photo of the little beauty and will update as we progress...

L'Eroica 2012, as experienced by our great pal Merlin McCormack

5479 riders from 33 different countries, L 'Eroica has grown rapidly year on year following a boom in the vintage lightweight world -  (well, it was about time we all developed some taste!). We assembled in a dusty square, right in the heart of Tuscany. The idyllic backdrop of Gaiole-in-Chianti coupled with the bottle of Classico caged onto my NOS GB bars distracted me from the ride ahead. We were in a time warp; by far the youngest riders to be seen and surrounded by the finest bicycle pornography still in existence.

The prospect of a starting gun soon became obsolete with the emergence of the mild October sun from behind the rolling hills on the far side of the valley. I pedalled ahead with the make-shift peloton sporting my Road Rags, Shoreditch, flanked by a '47 Hetchins Super Special (bravely ridden on single speed by my father in a Road Rags, Hoxton) and a '67 Hetchins Mountain King (saddled by my 16 year old brother wearing a Road Rags, Smithfield).

In all honesty, I was green with envy having lost the coin toss for the freshly restored, Pearl White Mountain King. I found myself astride an lightly renovated ’57 Newton with a Cyclo Benelux 8 speed set up complete with suicide front changer, the bike in question W.J Newton’s own racer wouldn’t you know it. The mass of this “lightweight” alone by comparison to the two Hetchins was enough to tarnish my confidence as, whilst L’Eroica is not a race, family rivalry was inevitable.

Before we could even leave the sleepy starting village, the climbs were upon us. They began steady, we caressed around each bend of the Strada Bianchi praying for a summit. Our prayers were not heard. Describing the hills as eternal would be sure to earn you an understatement of the century award. We schlepped on into the clouds leaving most in our wake, much to my surprise given my torpid training regime back home.

Dotted like beacons across the Tuscan hills every 40km or so were pit stops. Stale bread soaked in red wine and sugar or olive oil and salt came as a welcome sight. In true Italian style, Classico was in abundance; bear with me here - after 2 hours uphill riding in the blistering heat (despite being October), it is worryingly thirst quenching.

Being a L’Eroica virgin, bottlenecks came as an unexpected spectacle. Soon before the final summit, I was to learn their reasoning. We go by two rested Colnagos yet only one rider, sat with his head in his hands, weeping. The sign of the cross ripples back through the crowd as we pass the ambulance. “Attaco di cuore” they say, shaking their heads. They cover the body with a blanket as we pass. These hills are dangerous my friends and they do not forgive and are not beaten easily.

As a sign of respect, the pack walks to the top of the hill. With Newton back between my thighs (steady on), I tuck myself in tight, hugging the crossbar and begin the 7km downhill descent back into Gaiole. It was here that my green face turned yellow as I knew now that it was not I who had lost the coin toss. To travel so far, so fast without pedalling once injects such a care-free rush that I challenge all riders alike not to return to a pure, juvenile state of glee should they ever get the chance to.

We coast back into town, met by press and a triangle of L’Eroica Parmigiano Reggiano upon completion. After a brisk pint, we dart to the food tent where what could have been caviar or spam was slapped on a plate before us, it made no difference, if it could be deemed edible, it was relished.

I say this with authority, after L’Eroica it is impossible to take any vintage lightweight collector, rider or racer seriously until you know they too have suffered at the bane of Tuscany. Do not be fooled by it’s beauty or the non-race classification, L’Eroica is as serious as it gets.

Merlin McCormack