Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
The Bowler Hat
I married this guy 33 years ago and had no idea how he’d turn out. But if I’d had to bet on it, my money would be on him buying a hat like this someday.
Even when he was 33, dressed in jeans and Frye boots, he wore a cabbie hat. He was, when I met him, a man with the the courage to wear a hat. That’s something. It meant he had a sense of himself that overpowered his worry about what other people would think. You’d be surprised how many people – men and women – draw their courage line at the donning of a hat. I wouldn’t be one of them but I get it.
The hat he is wearing is a bowler. It’s a statement hat. It’s the same hat worn by Stymie in Little Rascals. There’s no getting lost in the crowd with a bowler hat. Heads will turn. We saw a man wearing a bowler stroll into an ice cream store a few months ago and my husband tore after him to compliment his hat and talk about where he’d bought it. It was clear to me at that moment that he aspired to owning a bowler, his admiration was so real, thicker than the butter pecan.
So for a long while, we would visit the bowler in a wonderful hat store in our town.
He thought it cost too much. It was extravagant. I disagreed, mostly so I could justify buying this hat for myself.
I love the hat store. The hats are all beautiful and, when you look at them, you think each one would look lovely on your head. You’re disabused of that idea when you try them on but while they are arranged on their stands, you can envision. It is the envisioning, after all, that counts, with hats and most of life.
Finally, he bought the bowler. He’s worn it a couple of times, but when he came home tonight, he looked exquisite wearing the hat. As if his head and face had been born to be fit under that wonderful hat. A bowler. Perfect.
14 Comments on “The Bowler Hat”
Leave a Reply
Recent Comments
 | Deb on The End of Mean Charlie |
 | beth on The End of Mean Charlie |
| beth on Old Beautiful Debts |
| beth on Sisterhood |
 | Mary Jo Hultman on Sisterhood |
Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
I love hats. I used to wear them all the time when we were on vacation. But I gave up on brimmed hats because you can’t wear them in a car, not with modern headrests. I still have boxes full of hats. I haven’t opened the boxes in years. I wonder if they have all turned to dust!
You both look great:)
Reblogged this on Red's Wrap and commented:
Such a great hat. So good for the soul.
I absolutely love hats…especially on children. (That’s when they keep them on anyway…lol) I even love baseball hats – love the one you have on – I happen to own a gray one with scarf ties on the side to cover my neck….I live in NY – need a hat!
Hats are a lot of fun, I think, although for years I was afraid to wear them.
This gives me hope because I want to be with my husband looking just as happy as you two do. My husband and I have been together 7 years and we did get together young but have been able to put n the work to keep going. Love your hats!
Oh – thank you!
He looks like he could be a detective in a TV series.
A British one, no doubt.
Aww. This post was just so sweet. And, I can’t fully explain why, but yes. That bowler hat totally suits him. 🙂
It really does.
🙂
How sweet to have a husband who still makes you smile with pride. I have a husband of 46 years who makes me smile with pride too.
We’re both pretty lucky.