Apart from some teen angst filled years of craving fitting in and holding my status within one of the popular crowds, I’ve otherwise not been concerned much with fashion. I wear what I like, what’s comfortable, what’s practical, and what I think looks at least a quarter decent on me (regardless of what my kids say). And of course what is within my current clothing allowance budget because hey, I’m frugal [read: cheap] and I like it that way.
I didn’t get the gene a lot of others of my gender got in their DNA makeup. I generally don’t like shopping for clothes. In fact, at times I despise it. It can be a real pain in the butt, literally and figuratively, having to try on 10 pairs of jeans trying to find ones that fit my petite stature, don’t pinch where I don’t want them to pinch (which is everywhere), and that aren’t so low-waisted that my muffin tops spill over.
That last point isn’t a vanity reference just so you know. I had major surgery as a child that left me with a long vertical scar on my belly and severed stomach muscles so that, along with having had 3 kids, left me with very loose skin on my tummy that likes to fold itself over the top of my pants, shorts, or skirts. It’s just plain uncomfortable is all.
I won’t bother to bore you to shreds telling you now how much I resent the over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder shopping. Maybe in the near future I will though as I do need to waste my time and money on a new one of those fandangled things soon.
The above all being said, I have a newly found obsession with hats. Last week I had to buy one and loathed the hours and effort I had to put into shopping for it. But I had to. And this post explains why. Somehow, my interpretation of that experience has changed however in the last couple of days though and now all of a sudden, I want to buy more hats. This emotional catharsis of sorts is largely in thanks to the supportive comments my readers left on the above linked post.
And now I want to buy lots of lots of hats. Enough to say I’m a hat collector. I already collect vinyl, Rolling Stone & Time & Life magazines, and most specially I collect memories. Now I’m going to collect hats. Just like Margaret Atwood, one of my favourite authors and a fellow proud Canadian gal.
So since I’m now planning on being a hat collector, I want to be a damn good one. I currently know very little about hats at this point, so I started my research this morning. I’ve already bookmarked about a dozen sites I’ll need to go back to and read more in-depth about this new subject interest of mine. Will hopefully humbly admit I was shocked at how many hat styles there are. Here’s a sampling of some until now unknown words and phrases held in my grasp of the North American take on the English language:
- Pork Pie Hat
- Greek Fisherman Caps
- Pith Helmets
- Silk Stovepipe
- Jute Hood
- Night Cap … as a former very serious collector of alcohol, I thought that phrase was only used to reference booze???
If you already know of any of these various kinds of hats, kindly do hit the like button below for this post. It will show me these aren’t just made-up words I found on the interwebs. And it’s good for my stats too so thanks in advance for that random act of kindness.
So far, the only prospect I have for a new hat is a red one. One that won’t go with the purple I’ll be wearing and one that doesn’t suit me. Why? Because I’m old. Because my mom loved this poem and so do I. Because as a hat collector, I have an IDGAS license. And because as a skin cancer patient, I need to wear hats. I’m cool with that.
I can’t beat my new skin doctor that told me to wear a hat. I believe that’s illegal in my country. I can’t beat the fact that 27 out of 28 hats look absolutely ridiculous on me. That’s the nature of fashion I guess. But I do have a chance at beating cancer and sporting something to cover my head is one of the ways I’m going to try. So I’m joining the rest of the skin and other cancer patients who wear hats, and we’re doing it loud and proud.
In response to today’s Daily Prompt: Style Icon.