A Lighter View
Hats off to
chapeaux
By K.E.H. Stagg

May 21, 2009

I have a “thing” for hats. Wherever I am in the world, I have only to glimpse a bit of felt, feathers or netting and I make a beeline for the milliner’s entry. The thing about hats is they convey emotions all by themselves.

When I’m not in the mood to put up with nonsense from anyone, I wear a bowler or cloche: no frills and the style clearly says “business.” If I’m feeling Southern belle-ish, I wear an enormous, floppy-brimmed hat that seems to beg for a fainting couch as a suitable backdrop to whatever drama—and it’s always drama!—is looming. One summer hat is made entirely of recycled paper, although it looks to be made of white straw; the organza bow makes it the sort of thing you’d see at the Kentucky Derby. The French beret says I’m feeling artsy; or perhaps like I’m on a secret espionage mission.

Most of the hats are simply the different colors of outfits I own, complementing my wardrobe in either summer or winter colors/materials. I have tangerine straw, royal blue silk, pale green feathers and net, off-white felt with a diamante-fastened arabesque embellishment, white straw with an opaque white straw net, grey felt with a grey grosgrain bow and veil--well, you get the idea. I’m constantly adding new hats, looking for colors and styles not already represented in my collection.

Some hats are just too much—I wouldn’t wear them unless I decided that I really wanted to look like those crocheted spare toilet paper roll covers people used to have sitting on their toilet tanks. I don’t expect that will ever happen, but if it does, I have just the hat: it’s a white straw turban-shape covered in white tulle with bright red roses dotted all over it. I also have a pale pink straw totally covered in a flower-studded veil that would serve equally well for self-humiliation.

The shellaqued red straw hat, circa 1920, is too delicate to wear, while a reproduction Victorian hat that’s large enough to require its own zip code, comes complete with a net-shaped velvet pouf and flower. I don’t wear the deerstalker (think Sherlock Holmes) or the tribal bamboo top knot cover with chin strap, nor do I wear the hat that looks as if it’s missing the matching leiderhosen. The black silk embellished with feathers is older than the century, and I have to take great care that it doesn’t tear or disintegrate when I wear it.

And I do wear my hats! To church and to tea, mainly; I’ve not worked up the nerve to wear one to a wedding, since we don’t do that in this country. One of my favorite aspects of hat wearing is that I can communicate my state of mind without saying a word—it’s all in the hat!