Tag Archives: hats

Do you like my hat?

When my daughter was little, she spent at least a day a week at my parents’ house where the book Go, Dog. Go!, by P. D. Eastman, was a big hit, at least with my dad. “Do you like my hat?” is a recurring line in this charming easy reader. Dad loved to put on a ball cap and then say to Hannah, “Do you like my hat?” Then they would both giggle and recite the response, “I do not.”

do you like my hat

Hats were the subject of an exhibit that Andrew and I saw at the Peabody Essex Museum. The show was called, Hats: An Anthology by Stephen Jones. Stephen Jones is a contemporary British milliner and he designed many of the hats in the collection; hats worn by movie stars and royalty and other wealthy people. Other designers were represented as well, along with historical hats, like old-fashioned bonnets and caps, for perspective. Mostly, though, there were avant garde hats; hats made from metal, and plastic, and wood. There was a hat made of long strings of hair-like material that covered the entire body, like Cousin Itt from The Addams Family. They also had the helmet worn by Darth Vader. Perhaps that was a sop for all the poor husbands being dragged around the exhibit.

I love hats in theory, but not to wear, because when you wear a hat you invariably end up with the dreaded hat-head. In old movies, women had perfectly coiffed hair that didn’t appear the least bit mussed when they removed their hats. I’m guessing that their hair must have been thoroughly lacquered. I’ve never had a good enough hair day to be willing to cement it in place.

I did buy a hat once; I wrote about it three years ago in the post, Cocktails anyone? The woman who sold it to me insisted that I promise to wear it at least twice. I’m certain that I did, after all, I promised, but I can only remember one of the times. It was at a restaurant in Cambridge called Cuchi Cuchi, where the waitresses all wear little hats called fascinators. Technically, my hat is also a fascinator. Maybe that’s why I never wear it. I’m just not that fascinating.

Meanwhile, back at the exhibit, there was a fun, interactive display. You could sit down in front of a large screen and see what a selection of hats from the exhibit would look like on your own head.


So now it’s my turn to ask, “Do you like my hat?”


Cocktails anyone?

This morning I have buyer’s remorse because yesterday I bought a very expensive hat. Not only did I buy a hat, but to encourage me to buy a hat, my husband, Andrew, said he’d buy one too, so I’m actually having buyer’s remorse for two.

We went to a high end craft fair called Paradise City. I’m calling it a craft fair but the producers of the event call it ‘a fair of fine and functional art.’ It certainly was fine, and some of it was even functional, but I’d be hard pressed to label as functional some of the art (like the glass pieces that were so delicate we were afraid to breathe near them). There were a variety of things that fell in the ‘beautiful-but-who-are-you-kidding-about-functional?’ category. Take my hat (please!).

I tried on a lot of hats in the Denishe booth. They all looked wonderful on the round styrofoam heads they were sitting on, but once on my head they lost their appeal. I was shaken by the experience because my mother always used to tell me that I had a ‘hat head’ which I interpreted to mean that I looked good in hats. Now I’m wondering if she meant I had a head shaped like a hat. Eventually the artist, Denise, determined that we were looking at the wrong colors and indeed when I put on the red hat I was instantly struck by how cute I looked, despite the fact that I couldn’t imagine actually wearing the hat in the real world.

Denise, assured me that a hat can be worn anywhere, anytime; that I could put on my hat whenever the mood struck me and go about my business. She talked me into it. Not in a pushy way, in a soothing, ‘you can do it’ kind of way. I decided she was right. The hat was funky and playful and so am I. Later I visited her website, Denishe. She has a section for ‘funky’ and my hat isn’t in it. My hat is under the menu choice for ‘cocktail.’ She never once mentioned the word cocktail. I rarely go anywhere just for cocktails. Does that mean the hat will never get worn after all?

To understand just how unlikely it is that you’ll see me wearing my new hat in the supermarket, check out the cocktail line at Denishe’s site. The way the site is constructed I can’t get you directly to the photo. When you find the white cocktail hat that sits very tall and branches out in lots of directions picture it in red. That’s mine. Or visit this link for Paradise City; today it’s also shown there.

Denise insisted that she wouldn’t sell me the hat unless I promised to wear it at least twice. I assured her that I would. Not only am I a woman of my word, but I need to amortize the cost of this hat before I go out of my mind. Cocktails anyone?