Monday, October 20, 2008
To Cap It All
I don’t wear a hat but like most non-hat-wearers I’d secretly like to.
Or rather I’d like to have the style and panache to get away with wearing a hat without looking like a complete dick.
Over the years I’ve tried several in my vain attempts to find some skull-wear that actually suits me: panamas, trilbies, the ubiquitous baseball cap, even at one time a Goth cowboy hat courtesy of a brief dalliance with The Field Of The Nephilim.
And I’ve looked an idiot in all of them.
Of course it may be that I look an idiot out of them too but nevertheless I have persevered faithfully in my search.
Until finally, last year, during a wet week in Wales, I came at last across my bonnet paramour in a tacky climbing / souvenir shop in Betws-y-Coed.
The good old fashioned Great British cloth-cap.
I think Karen was as stunned as I was. My God. Here it is. A hat that actually suits me.
I didn’t buy it.
I have a penchant for wearing proper waterproof hill-walking jackets having given up on the efficacy of umbrellas years ago (they’re just mini money pits). Couple such a jacket with such a hat and you have...
...Foggy from Last Of The Summer Wine.
Need I say more? I may not have much choice when it comes to fashionable head gear but credit me with some sartorial sense.