Cloth tape should show some wear, some dirt, some use. Even black cloth fades in the sun, and red turns a lighter shade when ridden regularly. In this way cloth tape shows evidence of use, of miles, of the passage of time. Like worn leather, it reveals the points of human contact, the place where our hands meet our bikes, whether in a casual grasp, or in a desperate grip.
Shellaced cloth will wear with time, sweat and rain. The places where hands rest become lighter, the texture of the weave begins to show through.
It's like a baseball glove
A leather-covered steering wheel
An antique tennis racquet
A comfortable pair of shoes
The pros didn't always get new tape every race. Look at photos from the 1940s through the 1970s, especially during stage races, especially if the rider wasn't a team captain. The tape is dirty and worn.
Look at the rider on the right side of "The Smokers". The tape is ragged and torn.
And beautiful.
There's something warm and comfortable about cloth tape. The colors aren't always as bright as plastic. There aren't any showy patterns as synthetic cork. It isn't shiny.
But you can dye it - you can give it a unique color all your own, any color you can imagine.
You can tint shellac, sand between layers, and create a depth of transluscent color which cannot be duplicated in any other way. And when you ride, your hands will change it again, wearing away small areas, slowly, over the years.
I want the thin white Gaslo cloth on the '49 Bianchi to get dingy and worn. I want it to show that, yes, this bike is being ridden. I want it to show a dropped chain and a dirty street and the greasy sweat of a hot summer's day. Visible evidence that I'm enjoying the bike.
I dyed the cloth on my light olive Girardengo to match the paint, then shellaced with red tint. As it wears, various shades of color show through, giving it a lovely patina of reds and greens.
Aldo Ross
Middletown, Ohio