Truth is, his style never came from clothes but from knowing who he was
We are in his sister-in-law’s house. His extended family are sitting around the kitchen table too. Ed’s niece Kate whom I last met at 18 when she was 12, sits opposite me. We are eating lentil lasagne, which is much less dispiriting than it sounds.
“Did Uncle Ed dress the same when he was young as he does now?” his niece asks. I glance at Ed who is half-obscured by the table. Even from the waist up, a glance is enough. I bend down to look under the table at his legs and feet. It is doubly cheerless down there.
