One of the things that surprises people is that as high-tech and
plugged in as I am, I still have an appreciation for old ways. I send
hand-written notes, write with a fountain pen in a little black
notebook, hardly ever swear, and occasionally pick up quirky styles.
Such as this hat, for example.
I’ve been told by quite a few people that I wear hats well. I picked
up this vintage hat during the Cabbagetown festival. It was CAD 18 or
so. I didn’t know when I’d have an occasion to wear it, but I decided
to get it anyway and find excuses to wear it whenever I could. It so
happened that I was wearing flowing black plants and a black velvet
top at the time that I bought the hat, so it fit perfectly, and a
number of people stopped to compliment me on the ensemble. It made a
few people wonder if I was in mourning, though.
Why should elegant hats be restricted to such occasions? Women of
breeding used to never go out without something on their heads, and
some cultures maintain this tradition to this day. I’ll continue
playing around with this idea, and perhaps I might fold it into my
I’m not used to thinking of myself as stylish, but I do like being
distinctive. This isn’t the harsh uniqueness of piercings or dye, but
rather a hint of something old, something different.
(Look, dad! I’m also getting better at taking self-portraits. The
cheap tripod I bought has been working out. Now all I need is a
full-length mirror that I can use for clothing and that I can set up
behind the camera…)