Mirror aside, my cocktail hat, made from a remnant of 1950s rose-imprinted silk shantung and Russian veiling, must have been the hit of last evening's dinner. I looked like a member of the staff in my concoction, Quinn told me. I felt incredibly self-conscious when I first walked into the cocktail hour wearing my creation, but after a while I forgot I even had it on. It certainly helped me stand out in a crowd of dozens of writers all vying for the attention of editors from the likes of magazines such as National Geographic Traveler, Saveur, Body & Soul, Via, AARP, the Magazine and other publications. Even if the editors don't remember my name, they'll certainly remember the hat. I can even sign myself as the "the woman in the hat" when I send them emails in the future. So as a savvy journalist marketing my name and image, my fashion statement was brilliant. I actually regret not bringing more hats (I knew that was going to happen). Now, everyone is expecting me to wear a hat again tonight. Do I wear the same topper? Dare to go bareheaded? Whip up a hat using the red roses in the tiny glass vases on the dinner table? What I wouldn't give now to have my little strawberry-shaped cocktail hat that I sewed with me this evening! What would you do if you were in my platform shoes? Wear the same headpiece again at an offsite dinner hosted by Dublin city? So many choices...I think I nee to take a nap and sleep on it. I could wear my shamrock green shaggy suede floppy hat, but that might be a little casual for tonight's festivities. The suede hat is something to wear outside during the daytime, but not while I'm knocking back pink martinis at the Hotel Meyrick in Galway.