Could you be a froseur?
As I was returning from my ride out in Da Boonies this morning, I came upon someone who couldn't have been more Freddish if he tried: hybrid bike with handle-bar-mounted rear view mirror, white polo shirt (might have been a Ralph Lauren), khaki shorts, white cotton socks, tennis shoes, and a huge saddlebag that dangled from his saddle like a bull's scrotum. As I was winding down from my ride I slowed down and let him keep the lead back to our houses.
Good thing. He lives across the street and is a Gestapo-level yard Nazi. Anything that encourages those boys to stay out of their yards and away from their lawn-mowers, weed wackers, edge trimmers, and leaf blowers makes the world a much better place.
I was decked out in full Poseur gear today: red (and white) full carbon bike with Ultegra components, red helmet, red gloves, red jersey (over 50), red bottle cages, red zip-tie to hold my cue-sheet clip, red Camelbak Podium bottles. Crap, I'd even bought a saddle bag because it had red draw strings on it. Not to mention my Sidis and cool-max low-cut bike socks.
The bike socks were white, of course.
On closer inspection you would have noticed some disturbing things: I have my own (helmet-mounted) rear view mirror; I haven't flipped my stem, in fact I use an extension stem; my shoes aren't white or silver; my saddle bag is large enough to hold two inner tubes, a multi-tool, and 6 CO2 cartridges, which I carry all the time. It's not bull scrotum large but it's much bigger than any poseur would ordinarily use.
In short, I'm not really a poseur, but it doesn't seem right to put me in the Fred category either.
Hence I'm coining the term "Froseur" ('pronounced froze-yer'), someone who combines major features of both populations.
Could you be one?