What’s in a hat?

When Carrie Bradshaw said she could live on Vogue because she felt looking at the beautiful clothes just “filled her up more” than food ­– I could relate. And I wasn’t much of a Sex in the City fan. But I do love fashion. So, last year when I saw this fall’s trends would be equestrian inspired, I was ecstatic. It seemed like the latest trends in fashion would be a nice reflection of the different parts of my own life. Plus, my obsession with boots would pay off.

I got to thinking about my style – and at times a lack of. I’m a hat person. I have more than 75 hats: Everything from fedoras, stocking caps, baseball caps and beach hats. Oh, I can’t forget the hats I’ve collected for Derby Day, and the (now) very-dusty-Jenny-from-the-Block topper. – Thank God I left that phase.

Considering my love of hats and my background, it’s a little ironic that I don’t actually own a cowboy hat and I haven’t since I was about 8. 

I have a tacky gas station straw hat I once got on the way to a hard rock festival but rarely wear it and if I do, it’s to the beach. It reminds me a little of a particular country singer, whom I find pompous and annoying.

My dad, on the other hand, has a cowboy hat for every occasion. He has the old white hat for every day, a semi-old hat for “going to town” (which really means catching an easy dinner at the local diner) a semiformal black hat and the latest edition black felt hat for “formal” occasions.  He even has a hard hat some co-workers had made for him in the shape of a cowboy hat.

I’m still trying to decide if the hats we wear say a little something about us or not. I lean to the side of “yes” but I haven’t figured out what. My favorite hat is one of my oldest: a newsboy that I got from my grandpa when I was little ­– a style that seems fitting, considering my profession.

Who knows, maybe one day I’ll give in and get myself a real cowboy hat to add to the collection. In the meantime, I admit the goofy straw cowboy hat is still fun, putting it on makes me smile because then I must be on my way to the beach.  Well, that is once I get the picture of a crusty Brett Michaels out of my head.