Birthday

I well remember what I consider my cardigan birthday, I even remember the date. It was November 11th. 19--. I had been working for about three months in my first job and saw a nice white five button cardigan in a shop near where I worked. The shop was one of those independent menswear shops which are few and far between these days; it's now a kebab shop and has been for a long time.

I eyed up the cardigan in question over a few days, tempting myself each day as I passed the shop en route to the tube station as I made my way home. I had to pluck up the courage to go into the shop to buy it, as if it were some special under-the-counter item of dubious legality. To me, in a sense, it was; to the shop proprietor who eventually sold it to me without a second thought, it was a cardigan, nothing special.

I entered the shop trying to look nonchalant, despite being positively fizzing with excitement and asked for the cardigan that was on display in the window. It was duly produced and I was asked if I'd like to try it on. I declined, thinking the shop proprietor was about to say something along the lines of, "go on try it, we all know why you're buying it... we've got you trapped now, you will never know an end to this." Instead he just put it into a bag and took my money. I scurried out into the early evening air and breathed a sigh of relief before hurrying to the station to get home.

The journey took forever, and I kept feeling the package to see if I could feel the buttons. Disappointingly I couldn't, this meant that by the time I arrived home I was in a frenzy. I ran to my bedroom, took all my clothes off and put the cardigan on, my first cardigan! It felt absolutely right, just proper and correct, the very thing; it should always have been thus. And it has been since. I slept in it that night, something I’ve rarely done since.

That particular garment lasted for a few years, it soon had company at the bottom of the wardrobe. In the end it was damaged in the tumble dryer, too hot, but I still wore it. It was eventually thrown out in a purge, something I regret. I may well hold forth about purges at a later date, an interesting phenomenon and not unique to me or to cardigans.

My illustration for this entry is of a cardigan nothing like the one I’ve been talking about, except for the buttons. They are of exactly the same design as the ones on the proto-cardigan, they differ only in colour. So come November 11th., join me in celebrating my cardigan birthday.