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Monday, November 19th, 2007
I’ve decided to become a hat person. I’ve always wanted to be a hat person, always felt like a hat person, always admired the fashions of bygone eras when hats were not only popular but necessary accessories.
But around here, the only type of hat worn with any regularity is an Alabama baseball cap. Just change up the team logo, and that goes for every other place I’ve lived, too, all in the balmy South.
Maybe that’s because it’s only cold enough to need a nice warm hat about three days out of the year, and on those days we just don’t go outside.
But it’s more than just that. According to my limited Internet research, hats fell out of favor in the late 1960s. Now, people who wear hats are viewed as eccentric, unless they’re Hollywood stars, in which case they are seen as crazy anyway so let them wear their silly hats if they must.
In the South, where eccentricity is viewed with more than the usual skepticism, there’s a stigma against wearing hats. I’ve been a part of more than one conversation where the parties involved agreed that people who wear hats are weird, pretentious and in extreme cases even worthy of loathing.
All this ire directed at hat-wearers kept me from becoming one. Every so often I’d succumb to the temptation to purchase a hat. In elementary school, it was the denim “Blossom” hat with a fake rose on the front. In middle school, it was the black cowboy hat. In high school, there was the green plaid bucket hat I still loathe pictures of myself wearing.
Later, there were straw hats bought at the beach and squashed into the top of the closet until they were irreparably misshapen by the next time I wanted to wear them. There was a 60′s fuchsia velvet hat I talked myself into at an antique mall and never wore. There was a black bonnet-like hat with an olive green leather flower on the side, worn once. There were at least two pale pink toboggans, each eagerly worn a few times in the winter any time there was even the slightest hint of a cold front.
But I was always too cowardly to become a real hat person. Every time I contemplated wearing one of my few hats, I’d take it on and off a dozen times before I left the house, terrified of being labeled as “trying too hard.” If I wore hats, people would think I was trying to make some kind of statement, be the center of attention, or become a goth kid.
I think, too, that I was afraid of being labeled an eccentric because I wasn’t worthy of the title. In a hat, I’d feel like a conformist in eccentric’s clothes, which is way less interesting that someone who truly embraces their oddities and moves through life not caring what others think.
Then last weekend, at a little antique store in Ocean Springs, Miss., I found a hat, my hat, the perfect hat. A cap covered with pheasant feathers in brown and black with accents of green and red that blended with my hair and coloring perfectly. Wearing the hat and the vintage fur stole I bought last spring, I’d look like a flapper or a 1940s femme fatale (okay, probably more like the nice girl the femme fatale steals the man away from).
Over the week, I fell more and more in love with the little hat and the way I looked in it and the idea of hats in general. It occurred to me that these days, I’m way more in touch with my unconventional side than I used to be. Whereas in my younger years, I spent a lot of time pretending – to myself and others – that I was just like everyone else, now I’m perfectly satisfied to be strange.
I’m glad I won’t be choosing my future children’s names from the Top 10 list (or even the top 100) and glad that I live in an old house (got to be at least slightly “touched in the head” to do that, right?). I’m glad there’s a giant mannequin in my guest room, glad I still like children’s movies, glad that my ringtone is a song from Hairspray, and glad that my idea of a good time is putting on a dust mask and tearing out plaster at my neighbor’s house (even without alcohol).
In other words, I think I’m finally grown up enough to be me, and by golly, that me is a hat person.
But I can’t be a hat person without hats, so I went on eBay this weekend and spent a pleasurable hour perusing the vintage hats. A few of the affordable little darlings are on their way to me already, including a darling green tam and a black sequined cap. I’m giddy at the prospect!
Edited to add:
I want a flapper hat. I know it wouldn’t look good on me but I want one anyway. I’m a winter hat person mostly. I bought several different-colored, formed-wool felt hats and I wear them in winter. Then I bought some summer hats for fishing and for the beach. I used to feel weird wearing a hat but now I love it. I’m a fan of classic movies and boy, they had some great hats back then. They could poke an eye out with some of them. It’s a shame they aren’t the fashion statement they used to be.
My wife is a hat person. Always has been, always will be. When most people first meet her, they notice the hat. A lot of them find it quite strange for all the reasons you mentioned. Then, they get use to seeing her in hat and come to expect it. Usually, the really get to like her and her hats (except for one very mouthy Yankee whom she told to f*** off after listening to him complain about it for months). If she forgets to wear a hat, everyone goes into shock.
So, what I’m trying to say is wear your hat(s) proudly. You are in good company.
Besides, it’s contagious. I always thought I looked stupid in hats growing up and never owned or wore any. Now I have several straw hats for the summer like a proper Southern gentleman (even if I am a damn yankee).
I would love to see a picture of you in your favorite hat. Congratulations on being comfortable with who you are. It is a very important step in life.
Hi Kristin!
I love what you’re doing with the house!
Have you considered listing it in the Home Name Registry? I think your home is regal enough for it.
The website is http://www.homenameregistry.com
Billy!
I grew up wearing hats — in San Francisco one did not go downtown without one (and gloves) starting at about age 12. I loved them and still do although I look awful in them. They can cover a multitude of sins such as bed-head hair. GO FOR IT and let people think whatever they want to think. Could be they will be jealous and, hopefully, copy cats. (Not recommended for going on an interview, however.)
Please model for us — bet you look terrific.
I’ve had a little trouble getting a picture now that it’s dark when I get home at night, but I’ll give it a shot tonight. Thanks for your encouragement!
Yes, do have a photo session soon.
LOVE that hat!
Around here we always saw ladies “of age” wearing hats-they wouldn’t go out without it.
Just don’t lay the hat on a bed or an eating table.
I love hats and think I look pretty good in them. The only problem is that they are a commitment. Women put one on and there they stay for the rest of the day. Any style of hair is flattened. Hope you go for it and maybe I will join you.
please- let’s see the photo of you in the hat! i love hats too. and scarfs. and bandanas.
Hey, if your looking for great vintage hat ideas, go rent “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”. All of Virginia Mayo’s hats in that movie are TO DIE FOR. Of course I’m not sure where you could find a millinery shop to copy those styles nowadays, might have to browse vintage consignment stores. Love the pheasant cloche!
I am not a hat person and I have never been interested in hats. But your hat! It is something really special! I love it! I’d like to see a picture of you in this hat!
Absolutely PERFECT for you! Makes you look all sophisticated and stuff! Seriously, though, it is the perfect hat for you, and you really do look great in the hat.
Thanks! It would look better if I was wearing my vintage fur stole with it … and if there wasn’t a toilet in the background. :)
I didn’t even see the toilet until you mentioned it! LOL