A Hat to Forget your Troubles...

Some people go to bar to banish their concerns about work, families, health and finances. The problem with that approach is that you only add to your woes. You leave with a far emptier wallet, a throbbing headache, a stomache and ringing ears from the loud music. I much rather wear a pretty hat such as the one above when the my afflictions seem overwhelming that I fear my petite shoulders might crumble underneath the weight of the world (which seems to be incredibly staggering if you really think about it. Why would anyone even in their troubled minds take on that kind of staggering load? It would kill you in a a fraction of a nanosecond if it were physically possible). But back to hats: I love how I can escape in them. From the moment I don one, I'm in another world. Frustrations with my chronically trembling right eyelid? Forgotten, or at least hidden by the netting of my most beautiful hat. Late check? Oh yeah. It'll be in the mail tomorrow or the day after. Email ignored by best friend? It must have landed in her spam filter; I'll hear from her soon. So only does a spectacular topper make me look great, I end up thinking more optimistically. I don't know how it happens, but it just does.

Which brings me to the hat above, spotted in Intrigato Boutique in Ennis, Ireland. I walked past late in the day, shyly wondering whether to take a picture of the sisal straw hat in the window. Should I take the photo and not worry about the reaction of the store owner and passerby? Or forget about it?

Then the opportunity of a lifetime occurred. Or at least the chance of my earthly existence during the week of May 14, 2007. As I walked past the entryway, where the door was propped opened, a young woman was snapping a picture of a woman wearing the hat above on her cellphone.

I had to enter. "Ooh, can I take your picture too?" I said, the photo-happy tourist (at least I didn't have a pair of white sneakers, a baseball cap and a fanny belt that screamed American, thank goodness). A bit startled, the photo subject, proprietor Ann Garry-Quish, obliged.

It turns out this particular concoction was straight from Paris (how many times can you say that about an outfit or accessory? It sounds so glamourous. Far better than fresh from the Big Apple.) This particular headpiece was for the young lady's mom for her wedding! I thought what a stunning hat to wear to your daughter's Big Day. I'd only fear that such a chapeau might upstage the bride's ensemble. But I admire how this particular hat has what appears to be whisps of platinum hair extensions growing out of it. Jessica Simpson and her hair man Ken Paves must use this in their next clip-on Hair Do ad. And the frond of Sunshine yellow and lime green berries at the side? Makes me hungry. Or least wondering what they actually are.

I have the name of the Paris milliner in my handbag somewhere. Ann scribbled it down for me and when I unearth it from the pile of Adora calcium foils, dull pennies, knitting needle markers, and pens that Do Not Work When You Need Them that litter the bottom of my purse, I am committed to doing a Google Search because the next time I visit Paris (the city in France, not the town in Illinois) I'm visiting this shop. Because even if this hat (or a similar one) costs more Euros than I know how to count, I want to see where the magic happens in the City of Light, you know what I mean. A must-do up there figuratively with visiting the Eiffel Tower. Which brings me back to my original thought: what hats do you wear to forget your tribulations?