Thinking About Hats

I am not obsessed with hats even though I have a modest (20 some) utilitarian collection of them. I have my favorites, as well as some that I rarely wear (although I did in the past), but having hats at all is a curious thing. After all, humans, along with sheep, can grow great mops of hair so a hat would seem to be superfluous. On the other hand, it's far easier to deal with an oiled rain hat (like my Filson) or a Borsalino than a mat of felted hair that looks like the wearer glued a dead labradoodle to his head.
     Once upon a time, men wore hats. Men were expected to wear a hat, and none of this baseball cap stuff unless the guy was a pre-teen or playing for the Dodgers. With a casual dip of the brim and a slight tilt, a hat displayed a certain style or insouciance far beyond the reach of a beanie with propeller or it's baseball cap brother. And a real hat makes a statement: An English Walking Hat (such as my Kangol) says "Come mist or rain, I'm going for a walk." and nothing more needs be said.

  

Here's a picture of a guy wearing a proper hat. Looking classy. It's not on backwards or twisted to the side

   Admittedly there are hats and other hats. Carmen Miranda wore proper statement making hats but most of us would choose a different style, at least for casual wear. Even with the jazz hands, few of us (I suspect) would choose this hat for an evening at the theater.

 

Queen Elizabeth wears hats that make a statement:

But even paired with her foul little ankle-biters I think she looks a bit goofy. And besides I don't think that hat would do squat for keeping off the rain. Her perm would be sagging and dripping in no time with even a modest mist. This particular hat would offer some protection against rock-fall on any sport climb she tried, but a standard Joe Brown (although a bit old-fashioned) would do a far better job.

 

A few months ago, I decided my hat collection was sadly incomplete. If a hat guy lives in the West, even the Pacific Northwest, a hat guy needs a Stetson. (Not a stiff brimmed Stetson. The evil, eponymously named, Dick Cheney wears a stiff Stetson) So after a bit of searching for the proper hat, I bought a Stetson:

 

I didn't wear it when we hiked the Grand Canyon -- style be damned, a dark brown felt hat is a bit much when it's over 100 degrees. But I was wearing it last week when, walking down a sidewalk, I started to pass a little four year old girl who was playing in the back of a pickup (watched over by her grandfather). She stared at me for a moment, then waved and said: "Hi, cowboy!" I smiled, tipped my hat, said "Howdy, miss." and continued on my way. This little event neatly illustrated the difficulty of wearing a cowboy hat:

   It isn't a problem in the country where a guy isn't going to meet many women, but in the city where there are likely to be a lot of women it's hard to get anywhere. To correctly wear a cowboy hat, every time the cowboy-hatted man meets a woman, he has to tip his hat, or actually doff his hat and greet the lady. And how to properly address any particular woman is a huge problem:

    For instance, one of my nieces is a school teacher, and "Schoolmarm" is the correct term. But another niece works in international banking and how does that translate into cowboyese? A third niece is larking about in Paris France. A cowboy hat would clearly indicate Paris Texas. I've been to Paris Texas and there's little larking about there, so referring to the third niece while wearing my new hat would only lead to confusion. And what if I accidentally called a Miss a Ma'am or a Mrs.? Or vice-versa? All of these problems really slow down a guy, and my walks could come to a full stop. 

  

 So this little essay illustrates the importance of having a collection of hats (even a modest one, such as mine).  With a variety I can fit the hat to the occasion. When I walk in the city, I wear a walking hat.

When I walk in the country, I wear the Stetson. (Of course, if I ever ride a horse I'll wear the Stetson.)

When I bicycle, I wear the helmet (a hat by another name). It's all good and appropriate. 

 

Word of the day: For the men. (if this applies to you, get help. It isn't really happening -- unless you're swimming in cold water)  Koro: the belief that your penis is shrinking and that it'll disappear and then you'll die.

 

Moot Point: a cow's opinion, so it doesn't matter unless it's referring to cow things, such as cow flop. 

 

Books:  re-reading The Horse's Mouth (Joyce Cary) A very funny book -- Artist as an irascible old fart --  Alec Guinness wrote and starred in a movie adaption that took this fine plate of English roast beef with hot mustard, and turned it into an insipid  blanc-mange. If you have a chance, by all means, skip the movie.          And so it goes. DJA

 

P.S. the occasional weird word spacing is a function of this terrible blog program. At some point I'm going to start a different host.