Where did you get that hat?

Today

It's not often I write two blogs in one day - but this suggested itself. On Facebook, two references to hats. One was a new picture of brother David in a baseball cap that he describes as a "veritable trophy". Hmmmm. The other was a question from a friend as to whether to buy a new "fascinator", presumably for an upcoming wedding.

I don't know which I'm less likely to wear; the fascinator probably, as baseball caps do at least keep off the sun. From which you may gather that I am not a fan of hats.

In My Day

There was a time when not to wear a hat out of doors was simply unthinkable. Looking at photos even from as late as the 1940's you see men wearing trilbies and caps, women wearing hats or headscarves.

Daddy used to wear a trilby when he went out; there are many pictures of him in the album wearing such an object. I am not sure of its purpose, other than to state that he was conforming. I don't think he saw it as a style statement as stylish dressing wasn't Daddy's forte. Maybe it kept his bald patch warm and dry.

Mamma wore hats only on posh occasions and, to be frank, they rarely suited her. I have an abiding memory of a lilac gauze-covered "coolie" hat that she wore a fair bit, mainly to Townswomens' Guild conventions. She kept her hats on the top of the wardrobe. I had the prescience to know that hats and I are not destined to be happy companions and I didn't try on her hats; played with her jewellery box, tried on her high heels, yes, hats, no.

My first memory of wearing a hat was when I started at Grammar school. The uniform required a velour hat in winter, straw boater in summer; later we wore berets. It didn't really matter, I hated them all and looked grim in them. If I could have invented an allergy or religious reason to be let off wearing them, I would have done. There is a picture of me wearing a knitted bobble hat at the Proms, but I think I only donned it for the photo as a gesture of solidarity as we had knitted them ourselves.

Hats mess up my already rather fragile hair, blow off in the wind and I only wear them if my head is threatening to freeze or the sun is threatening to burn my shoulders or turn my hair a neon orange.

I think my attitude to fascinators is affected by seeing a very drunk Irish woman at a very posh wedding in Wicklow a few years back, abusing the staff in colourful and slurred language while a ridiculous black feather contraption waggled about on her head.

I went to a wedding the other week and there were all manner of hats and fascinators dancing about on people heads. Not on mine, though, and that's a promise I've made to all who invite me to weddings (including in the unlikely event of my being mother of the Bride).