I feel a whisper in my ear,
so soft and somehow kind of dear,
so, sweet and gentle; I propose,
I think I’ll have me one of those.

Think not of this as an endorsement, dear reader. It’s not like I’m on anyone’s payroll (though I am open to offers). Think custom made Pat Benatar black lid, a subtle flash of gold curling from the right brow to the nape of the neck, think all fired up, then think it all over again.

But I digress.

Don’t worry that you’ll be subjected to some terribly factual product review. I shall never be accused of knowing too much about helmets, that’s how you lose the wonder and the bliss. This is not even a test ride. This, sweet cyclist buddy, is a joy ride. A get out of my way world, I have a tail wind and new tires kind of joy ride.

You see, I’ve always admired the Catlike helmets, particularly their sweet whispers. I like a helmet that looks like swiss cheese. It makes me laugh. And now I have a friend who let me borrow one to see if they were as fun as they looked.

If you want to know all the little statistics, the holes, the 240g weight for the little ones, the fact that Thor Hushovd (cycling’s gentle giant) rides with one, well you just go to their website. They’ll sell you one for sure. And there’s lots of sensible reviews somewhere else.

What I want to know about a helmets is – does it bring you joy?

Form

The best description of a catlike helmet that I have read so far, is that they fit you like an octopus. Snug. On ya. Tight. Despite being made of plastic, foam and straps, they feel surprisingly organic on your head. Notable features are – no prizes for looking – no shit, the number of ventilation holes. The straps are too bloody long, but. I don’t like anything that long round my neck that doesn’t tie into a bow.

Function

Dammit they work. There is a lot of air in your hair. And this matters. At first you don’t think it matters. You’re just cycling to and from work and you think, “hell, that’s five kilometres, I don’t need some bullsh*d $250 helmet. I’ll just get this little Protec jobbie and that’ll do me just fine”. You do the maths; you figure you can get 250g for $250, or just a standard skate lid at almost 500g and $80, and you think the last time you paid $170 for 250g of something, well you were buying drugs, or something equally stupid. In the end, though, you do the maths wrong. Because Your Head Will Be Cooler In this Helmet. And I mean that with zero irony, and only a concern for the heat of your head after you ride more than than the piddly amount it takes you to get back and forth to work. I care about you, when finally you lose the practicality of your ride and you just wake up early one morning and you go!

Fashion

This is where the Catlike comes into its own. So nutty looking. Like novelty cheese, an ant farm, or the surface of the moon, if the moon was populated by dudes who shave their legs and girls with massive thighs. In Catlike world, you can be black, you can be white, you can be world champ, or euskaltal or whatever your good self desires. For me, in Catlike world, I want nothing more than to go to Madame Brussels. Where it can be two in the afternoon and you can get plonked on a giant bucket jug of something pink and wear your bike helmet indoors and not be the strangest lady in the place, because it’s all hen’s afternoons and dress-up tea parties and man, that’s an inch of icing on that cup cake.

And what I love the most about Catlike world is that Tara, who owns said Pink Bits, is this totally rad/excellent/interesting lady who is all up in her own goddamn punk record thingy and is so far from being drunk mid-day with me at some cheesy bar, which only goes to prove that helmets are a very personal thing.

Funds

Ugh. All helmets are over priced. All bike things are overpriced. Life is overpriced. The embodied energy of our bikes is enough to depress even the fans of The Fountainhead. Go to wiggle. Go on, get your wiggle on. And I say this with no disrespect to the people at Fitzroy Revolution, who are about the only people I would let sponsor me, because they’ve always been nice to me, and even fixed the nut on my wheel after those bastardos at the store I shall not mention totally shredded it. Possibly I would let Bike Boutique sponsor me too, though I’m not much chop as a road cyclist, but because they have a really nice girl working there called Fran.

Be out, be proud. Love your helmet.