Musings - What's 'Hat All About...

I once had this friend, actually he was more of an acquaintance, thinking about it I only met him twice so in reality we emailed for a couple of months before he disappeared and I realised I didn’t miss him…

But, anyway, I once briefly knew a guy who collected hats.

I think he considered himself a cross between Frank Sinatra and Julian Casablancas which was eyebrow raising in a ‘you poor sap’ way rather than a ‘how hip are you’ way. Don’t get me wrong; he pulled it off in a skinny jeaned, mad haired fashion but I always felt that beneath the spray on pants and the maroon tie too much effort was being spent to look effortless.

But back to the hats.

He wouldn’t wear them. He bought them, loved them but would never adorn them. He considered it PEACOCKING.

The guy with the leave-nothing-to-the-imagination jeans, extremely pointy shoes, ridiculous ties, and hate me writing style thought that it would take the addition of a hat to be a human peacock? Fool right?

Other than wit, the love of ridiculous questions and writing; the only other thing we had in common was collecting hats.

But I like to wear mine.

Even if I look a little odd or a little quirky I still slap them on my noggin and dare to leave the house. My friends, family, husband… all despair. Even looking at myself in my hats I have to appreciate they make me strangely eccentric.

But there is something about a hat that gives me a little sass and I like it.

I don’t really have a style, I won’t be auditioning for The Strokes anytime soon and I am certainly not the type you would even consider to be a peacocker. (Not a word, I know, but it forms nicely in the mouth, ha ha).

But when I am gone and people try to remember who I was, if at least one person can smile, reminisce and say ‘Do you remember that awful purple hat?’, then I will look down (mostly likely up) and be happy.

So here are a couple of my hats, be bemused…