too-too hat company

I’ve always had a fetish for hats, ever since I was 11 when a cute boy gave me a burgundy porkpie hat that he claimed belonged to my older brother who had pilfered it from my Dad. What a hat trick that was! Between the fact that this was a gift from a hot boy and the incestuous insinuation of it having been worn by my sexy, older, rather emotionally remote brother and my even older, more emotionally remote father, I was in lust with that porkpie hat. Plus, I found that the hat sometimes "spoke" for me when I didn't want to speak, and I could pull down the brim and hide behind it when I didn't want to face the world. I wore that hat until it wore out.

By that time, I was 16 and had developed a small hat collection including several caps, three more porkpies and a big floppy felt number tie-dyed by yours-truly with a peace sign on top (my tasteful mother was mortified by its gross vulgarity). At Yale, I only wore hats when I was in theatrical productions, which was just often enough to satisfy my hat cravings. By the time I got to San Francisco, I’d worn out all my hats and couldn’t replace them, since nobody was wearing hats in the ‘80s except Boy George. Lots of big shoulder pads and big hair, but no hats.