They keep yapping, and yapping like there's a day after tomorrow. I think they feel a bit lonely, crowded on the top shelf of my closet. The ancient one with the Marshall Field's logo and the collapsing lid goes on and on and on about "Back in former times..." while the newer ones, namely those cloud-white boxes from milliners Laura Whitlock and Carmen what's-her-name? have no concept about what Ms. Marshall Field's is talking about. But those cloth-covered ones from the 1960s and 1970s, which are meant to carry more than one chapeaux at a time, are most the chatty. They've traveled all over the country, the world. They remember the days when you dressed up to get on a plane and you brought all your hats with you. These ladies have names and addresses on them on yellowed plastic tags. They do feel so important, having logged so many miles as they have. Anyhow, as I say, the hatboxes talk, mostly about how I ignore them. The travel version say I don't unzip them. The others long to have me unwrap tissue paper on the cocktail hats. But they also talk about how it's ironic that I love hats but I haven't written about them in a long time. They know that'll keep me up at night! So I know the hatboxes want me to write about them. Somehow, as brilliant as they are, they can't articulate what kind of book I should write. I already know one agent wants a book on this topic, just not one on technique. What are your thoughts about books about hats? What haven't you seen that you would like to read? (By the way, the book pictured above? It can purchased at the Vintage Martini web site.) Click here to follow the link my survey on the hat book.
I look forward to reading your responses. (And maybe then those hatboxes will get off my case.)