Ok, so we borrowed the title and copy for this blog from Patt Morrison of the LA Times. The folks at Hatlife included a link to the article in their most recent newsletter. If you appreciate the excerpt below as much as we did, you can view the entire article at: http://www.latimes.com/features/magazine/la-tm-hats.03march2,1,6604439.story?ctrack=2&cset=true
P.S. We may have pilfered the article but the hat below is our very own. Field Hands/$148
The young women had multiple piercings about their faces. A bit of tattoo crept out from under a short sleeve. I watched them try on the hats, clumsily, giggling and striking poses as if they were 8 years old. Finally, one plunked a hat back on the rack.
“I couldn’t wear one of these,” she declared. “Everybody’d be looking at me.”
Oh, honey, I thought—you’ve punched holes in your face, and you’re worried that people will stare at you because you’re wearing a hat? Women will wear just about anything labeled “fashion”: jeans cut so low you could keep them on during an appendectomy, nosebleed platform shoes. But not that most enticing and useful accessory, the hat.
Thus, people today call any hat “weird” simply because they so rarely see one—like a show of ankles on a Victorian street. Women are always telling me wistfully, “I wish I could wear hats.” Anyone can; everyone used to. It’s not about the hat—it’s about the attitude.
A hat is mystery, glamour, playfulness, style. It defines personal space and projects personal taste. Hair can accomplish only so much; a hat can do anything. It is warmth in winter, shade in summer, a blessing on a bad hair day, a capstone on an outfit. A new hat is as soul-thrilling as a new pair of shoes—and it never, ever pinches.
