There are few things that would tempt me to leave the house without at least glancing in the mirror. However, when it comes to my hair I seem to have a haze halo around my head, obscuring anything north of my eyebrows. So you'd think I'd be all gun ho for hat wearing but alas, I'm one for curveballs.
I see hats around, I give them the eye, I contemplate taking one for a spin, but I'm constantly stuck on first base. I try on, I twirl, I try hair down, hair to one side, maybe even a braid if I'm feeling frisky, but the outcome is always the same; an unclothed head.
(Nothing quite like sticking some fur on your head. Olsen'sAnonymous)
I see wearing a hat as a huge commitment.
It's a game changer.
For example a white t-shirt and jeans is an ever chic yet uninventive outfit. Topped off with a hat however, and the outfit is immediately made infinitely all the more interesting. In just the drop of a hat (ha ha), a look can be transformed in one effortless and relatively easy step.
That is unless you're me.
There's something telling about a person who wears hats recreationally. There's just an undeniable cool factor about head wear. I love the look of a jewel tone turban, a big old floppy hat, a straw hat, a bowler hat, a beanie, (I draw the line at baseball cap) but therein lies the problem. I like to look at them not wear them. Actually this last sentence is somewhat misleading, it makes it sound like I have a choice in this whole noncommittal hat thing I've got going on.
But I don't.
It doesn't matter how 'safe' the hat looks to be, black beanie springs to mind right now, it being relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things - think Philip Treacy for the other end of the scale - I get the same level of anxiety.
I'm not at all certain where my commit-a-phobia came from. I managed to commit to growing my hair out; I made a commitment to my dentist to brush twice a day; I battle daily with my commitment to the gym, but when it comes to hats my head just seems resolved to be free and hat-less, whether I like it or not.
Many a time the intention has been there, hat is on head when I leave my room but give it five minutes and one flight of stairs and it miraculously disappears. I don't even notice myself swatting it off. I'm quite the ninja when it comes to this whole hat removal lark.
(Caroline De Maigret: The embodiment of effortless hat wearing)
To add to my nonsensical and somewhat uncontrollable hat intolerance, there's the little story of my first school uniform which came replete with mandatory hat. Two in fact, just to double the future neurosis that was to transpire hereafter. I wore a grey felt bowler for the winter and a wicker hat for the summer. Thing is though, I don't remember having a problem with either of these as a preteen.
Maybe it was on later reflection that my prejudice grew. There's nothing like seeing your younger self decked out in a jaunty hat, two sizes too big to put you off for life. Or at least deeply question your parents' judgment.
You see, my problem with hats isn't with them in their material sense. I could spend hours perusing shelf upon shelf of hats. The issue only becomes an issue when the hat is actually perched atop my usually messy head.
To put it in the plainest of english, my problem is how wearing a hat makes me feel.
Hopefully, from reading this blog, you can see how passionate I am about fashion, so with no exaggeration, my feelings really are tied up within the threads of the garms I'm wearing.
Hats make me feel uncertain, a look that is translated as utter puzzlement on my face. There's nothing less likely to sell an outfit than non-belief in yourself and what you're putting out there.
(See the fun I'm missing out on…)
I know I shouldn't care and I should wave my hands up in the air - or something like that… but hats make me feel weighed down. Like my head is alien to me - or is an alien.
Cue rambling: Is it impolite to wear a hat indoors? I don't think I could manage manoeuvring it on and off without getting all askew. Could I handle hair as flat as a pancake that had been ironed, stood on by an elephant and then sat on by homer simpson, if I did have to remove said hat? Do I try a beanie and risk stepping out resembling a gnome? Or worse, a hipster?
Before I become too enraptured in my spiral of increasingly obscure questions, I feel a breath is needed. Maybe a deeper breath.
Fashion to me is about trying something new; not for the sake of being different or forcing yourself to fit a mould of someone else's making, but just to keep things exciting. And if that means pushing your boundaries into slightly uncomfortable territory then so be it.
Who wants to be safe anyway? I have enough bad hair days to warrant a serious reconsideration of my hat refusal.
It's about time I stop ignoring the northern realms of my head.
And who knows, maybe one day I'll be rocking bunny ears a la Ms Richie.
But then again maybe not. Yeah, probably not.
(I didn't think animal ears could ever be chic but here's me being proved wrong)
None of the above photos are my own and I do not take credit for them.
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