This is an homage to my friend Karen S's blog post ,'I miss my hat - my hat'.
I don't miss my hat. It sits there and taunts me. I can't remember what possessed me to buy it but I probably wasn't drunk. I surely wasn't right in the head that day. NB - mentally pronounce 'head' in the Glasgow way, 'heed'.
I bought my hat from Marks and Sparks, a store that has never incurred the wrath of Michael Moore - yet. You can't buy guns or ammo there, just really yummy food items and acres of middle-aged clothing, some of it quite good, all of it good quality. And bras that fit. hardly anything in there for MM to take exception to.
I had two hats to choose between, one was black shiny pretend fur and made my face look pasty. One was less black and more poodly in texture. I bought it. I wore it. It has a brim and the brim at the back catches on the collar of my coat, so I'm constantly pulling it down.
I soon realised it doesn't look at all sassy. It doesn't look cool. It isn't at all like Karen's lost hat. It in fact made me look like my old Welsh nanna, who in her turn looked like Queen Victoria. I told my sister, she laughed like a drain,
'You bought a hat that made you look like nanna! Whatever were you thinking?' I don't know, I just wanted a hat. I don't even like the fact that it keeps my head warm, too warm.
Oh woe, woe, and thrice woe, as Frankie Howerd used to say in 'Up Pompei'.
The hat gives me helmet hair. Even young people get helmet hair from wearing hats and their hair just springs right back into shape, unlike mine which takes on weird shapes at the best of times, sometimes I look like Eraserhead.
Now my hat sits on the peg in the hall. I thought of putting up a shelf for hats. At first it didn't occur to me how monumentally stupid this would be, a shelf for hats. How many hats do you have? Oh, just the one. Is it an important hat? Oh, no, not really, it's more ... one I bought and don't wear.
Perhaps I should take it with me to Buntzen Lake where Karen lost hers. I don't know where that is, but I am getting good at finding places now. I could maybe leave it on a bench for some more deserving hat wearer to find. Or put it in the clothes recycling at Shoppers Drug Mart. But no, I can do neither of these things, the hat has some power over me. It watches me. It won't let me lose it, and I don't wear it, so I won't ever accidentally lose it.
Oh well, *sighs* maybe I'll take it out for a walk today, try to frighten dogs and those extra large crows we have here.
My hat.
Nothing new under the sun
3 years ago
6 comments:
Thank you for your respectful homage about hats. It lessens the pain somewhat. Sometimes I think I see my hat walking down the street on someone else's head. I run up to the person and say "is that my hat?" But it never is.
I dream about my hat sometimes. In the dream my hat is still alive - it talks and walks. Mind you, last night I dreamt that Ellen Degeneres and I were having an affair and my hat was not present. What can all of this possibly mean.
- Karen
I think it means that the drugs are working and that you need to get a much shorter haircut karen.....
I have a Homburg I bought in NY which makes me look like my Grandfather when he went to synagogue! I like it though, because of the very confused looks the frum women of NY gave me!!(The shock on their faces when they noticed my chest was priceless!)
Simmi
Haha! and just think, they thought it was your jar of marmite that was the problem on the way in :)
I know what you should do with your hat -- give it to Karen. Then she can set it on a shelf and look at it or it can look at her. Whatever works.
I used to be a Catholic and back in the days we all had to wear hats to church. This was always a terrible time for me. My head is either too small or too big -- never have figured out which -- anyway I was never meant to wear a hat. So happy day when the rule came down that Catholic women didn't have to wear hats anymore. Never really understood why it was only women that had to wear them. What was wrong with men? Of course the whole hat thing -- and the Catholic thing -- has not been a problem for many a year. So why am I ranting on? The image of that hat sitting on your shelf looking at you stays with me though. I will probably dream about it tonight -- hopefully not with Ellen Degeneres though. I'd prefer Bono to be in my dream -- that strutting little cock. Or Jude Law perhaps. Or ??
I dunno, maybe it's like that Saudi thing where men would become immediately inflamed with passion if they see a woman's hair. Actually I think it's in one of Paul's blogs to the Corinthians, Ephisians or anyone really apart from the Galatians. The Galatians were actually Celtic settlers and thus he would have been wasting his breath with any of his woman hating tosh.
I think my hat dream will just contain a huge bar of Toblerone. Phallic? well maybe, but mighty good chocolate :)
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