|Snap-brim Fedora. I can't wear it!|
Those of you who know my lovely wife Peggy will not be able to name a time you have seen her in public wearing a hat. So well-groomed and turned out is she that she will forsake warm ears for having great hair. The most she will do is to lightly wrap a scarf around her coiffure. The most I will do is ask her if she wants a hat, and then back up to receive a look and a shake of her head, indicating that I should know better than to even ask.
There is the dreaded beret, so popular in France, but I wonder why. It has no brim, and it doesn't cover your ears or provide shade. Outside of looking vaguely European, I don't know what advantage there is to a beret.
I want to wear a fedora.
But, even as I gambol about town in Orioles, Ravens, Alabama and other head coverings, I simply cannot pull off the fedora look. For years I've wanted to be the guy with the fedora - or even cooler, the porkpie hat. But this look seems to be the exclusive province of hipsters, racetrack touts and musicians who work with Elvis Costello. And Elvis Costello.
I have tried, even went as far as donning a porkpie in a store, and I felt like a scornful crowd was gathering at once, demanding that I be able to name at least one song by the Dave Matthews Band before I could sport a fedora.