Hat Trick

Hats are so tricky, aren’t they? Several people I know say things like “Hats don’t really suit me,” or “I don’t have a head for hats.” We’ve been told, over and over, that hats are passe, difficult, awkward, unnecessary. We don’t wear them unless we absolutely have to - a toque for winter, a ballcap for summer. I, for one, love a good hat. A little boiled wool beret, at a jaunty angle or worn right back on the head, at almost a ninety-degree angle, is intensely charming. Or what about a wide-brimmed sun hat, in coiled straw with a delicate ribbon for a hat band, shading your face from the summer sun? With such a hat, the larger the better, surely - it is impossible not to be chic peering haughtily out from under an enormous, swooping hat brim as you lounge by the water, the sort of thing I assume the flight attendants give you automatically as you step off the plane to Saint-Tropez. I am also partial to a jolly little boater, neat as a pin and twice as hard, balanced on the head perkily, as though you might leap into the next boat and punt yourself straight down the Thames to Old Oxford. A heavy velvet and wool affair, pulled low over the forehead, makes for a good choice on a chilly night to the ballet or theatre in winter - stylish and warm, an impressive feat. A gauzy, chiffon turban would make for a delightful confection, perfectly paired with an antique brooch pinned right in its centre. I appreciate a newsboy on a leggy, modish model, over her swinging Sixties’ fringe and winged eyeliner, or the exuberant, ebulliant creations that crop up at the Kentucky Derby or Royal Ascot, more like sculptures than headwear. I like an embroidered kokoshnik, elegant and just a little imperious, but even better is the furred and fabulous ushanka, equal parts Soviet and stylish.

But these days, all the glamour and gaiety, the fun and variety, the sophistication and self-expression of hats has been whittled down to the well-worn ballcap and the now-ubiquitous toque, most of them without even a cheerful pom-pom on top to reassure ourselves that we can be happy, even in winter. What dire straits! I get comments (not all of them pleasant or approving) just wearing a headscarf or a padded headband, one that dares to stand an inch or two above my hair and announce itself in velvet or a bright colour. We’re completely fine with the ridiculous, the expressive, the colourful, the eye-catching - but only when it is on our feet! Surely it makes a lot more sense to draw attention to the eye and face with a becoming chapeau than to hope that everyone we meet will goggle at our toes, right? It was once this way - my grandmother’s generation wore sensible shoes in neutral colours, and spent their hard-earned pocket money on new ribbons and hat dye to perk up an old topper and give it new life. And yet, here we are, living in topsy-turvy land, buying and wearing absurd sculptures on our feet (painful) and leaving our heads bare and unloved (boring). No, thank you!

I hope, dear reader, that you will be emboldened, inspired even, to dig out the hats from the back of the closet shelf and give them the love they so rightly deserve. I appreciate that the giant sunhat with exultant brim might not be necessary at the moment, but the world of winter hats is in fact wider and more exciting than the cylinder of wool most of us cram over our heads on our way out the door. At the very least, consider a pom-pom on your daily toque, if only to add a little well-deserved winter whimsy to your day.

Jennifer