Mad Hatter meme

Innocently enough, I asked Mrs T over at The Witty Ways of a Wayward Wife whether she owned a leopard-skin pill-box hat. Her post on Hats Off To Jay Kay made it clear she had a history with hats and ever since I first heard Bob Dylan singing about a leopard-skin pill-box hat back in the 70s, I've wanted to see one. Well, she answered my question big-time with her post I admit it! I have a fake fur leopard skin hat! (Some people have a thing for shoes it seems, some for leather, but Mrs T... well, not only does she have a leopard-skin pill-box hat, but, amongst her incredible collection, she even has a Pocahontas head-dress!)


Given that she's outed herself in this way, I felt I should admit that I also own a few hats, although nothing quite as fancy as hers. I thought it'd also be fair to treat her post as a Mad Hatter meme, with an open invitation to join in (even if hats might not be your thing, but shoes or ties or odd socks or ... leather... no, forget that last one.)


The Panama is my day-to-day hat of choice. Although Dirk Bogarde's seedy character in the film version of Death in Venice is not someone I'd wish to emulate, the Panama does have a number of literary connotations for me (Thomas Mann, Somerset Maughan, D H Lawrence, etc) and is very practical for the climate I live in. I usually have two or three feathers in the hat band and, as one hat gets too old for regular wear, it finds its way into the boot of the car for occasional wear... until it disintegrates and then I treat it like a corn dolly: I bury that one and buy myself another.


I was forced to wear this hideous green thing during our Christmas 2007 celebrations at work! Thought it might be grounds for a Work Place Harassment claim. It left me convinced that it was St Patrick's Day and not Christmas, but that might have been because of how much Guinness I'd been drinking. It's so hideous I can't bring myself to get rid of it.


This is my gardening hat with detachable fly net! There are days here when our mosquitoes will eat a person alive -- whole -- and other days when, if the mosquitoes haven't had you, the flies will simply pick you up and carry you off. Head-to-toe army fatigues, body armour and appropriate weaponry is strongly recommended.


My father gave me one of his hats when I returned to the UK in winter once, having forgotten how cold it could be. He bought it in Italy and looks as if he should be at the helm of a sleek yacht when he wears this type of cap, whereas I look as if I've stepped off a nineteenth century barge... and should be thrown into the water. It also proved that I have a bigger head than he does and that, if you cut off the circulation to the top of your head, it doesn't matter how cold it gets because you can't feel anything anyway.


I run jog lope in this hat. The long peak, accompanied by sunglasses, prevents people from recognising me and commenting to my face about my abysmal running jogging loping style.

Here is a picture of what is potentially my next hat:

If that @#!#^&$! rabbit (see previous post) insists on making my garden his home, then there's every chance I'll make his skin my hat. Forget the faux leopard-skin, I want a rabbit-skin pill-box hat.

Last word to good ol' Bob Dylan, where some of this started.