I got my winter hat.
Every winter and every summer is defined by a hat for me. For each season it might be one of the old faithfuls I’ve had on rotation for years, but it’s always just the one. It becomes part of me over the season.
But the funny thing is, a hat that had seemed like the only thing I could leave the house in the year before, looks all wrong when that season rolls around again.
So sometimes, it just has to be a new one. Or at least, new to me.
This winter my trusty black beret looks too harsh against my older skin. My Greek fisherman’s hat sits too flat on my head. The fluffy leopard print beret I wore all last winter looks cheap. My faux fur Russian hat too much.
When I found myself seriously considering the knitted tam o shanter from my uni days (not this one, but similar…) I knew the moment had come. It was going to have to be a new hat. Or a new old hat.
Which is what it turned out to be. I found this tweed cap in my brilliant local vintage/designer sell on store and knew immediately it was the one. It has a full crown which I can perk up, adding crucial height.
It makes me feel very Left Bank, a mood greatly enhanced when Mel, owner of the aforementioned Wardrobe, looked inside and saw from the label that it’s Russian.
I’ve decided it’s just the kind of thing Rudolf Nuyerev would have worn in the 1960s. And it’s just the thing I want to wear right now.
Then on the way home through the wonderfully Christmasy-feeling Old Town, I came across some jovial carol singers at the top of Courthouse Street.
Being Hastings, one of them was dressed as a polar bear (as you do), but I didn’t realise one of them was my pal Juliet, because she’s not normally wearing a bobble hat. Juliet! Yoo hoo!