Blue, fluffy, two sizes two small, I wore it every morning for a while, looking like a very small, uncertain IRA man, though I like to think now I made balaclavas cool long before terrorists did. Bafflingly, its unbelievable itchiness, its Napoleonic harshness, the way it made me almost unrecognisable but only almost, the way in which it attracted attention and invited ridicule for its anti-style, its anti-elegance – even in 1970, even in Enfield – meant I hated it. Continue reading »