One of the many real if undramatic losses to civilisation in recent times is the virtual disappearance of hats. A generation or two ago, and for centuries before, nobody would dream of venturing out of doors bare-headed, which was the mark of a person of the lower orders. In past times hats often denoted class – wide brims for the bourgeois, flat hats for the plebs – and the decline of hats is partly explained by the blurring of class distinctions. I hereby proclaim the joy of wearing hats and propose a Great Headgear Revival and call upon you all to cover your thatch and re-assert your individuality not just with your warm heart but also with the top of your head.
Undeniably hats define the man. Where would de Gaulle be without his kepi, Schweitzer without his solar topee or LBJ without his Stetson? Not quite forgotten but fading in the memory, yet restore the hat and the vivid colours and personalities surge back. The examples are legion: Zapata in a huge sombrero: Greek liberator Theodoros Kolokotronis in his flamboyant casquette: Bonnie Prince Charlie sporting his bonnet and white cockade: Anthony Eden in his eponymous black Homburg: Maurice Chevalier in his jaunty boater: Frank Sinatra in his snap-brimmed fedora: above all, Charlie Chaplin and Stan and Ollie in their often battered Bowlers.
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| Maurice Chevalier |
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| Charles de Gaulle |
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| Kolokotronis |
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| Charlie Chaplin |
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| Bonnie Prince Charlie |
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| Lyndon Johnson |
The Bowler has indeed gone through many phases. Designed by London hatters T&W Bowler in 1849 for the gamekeepers of Lord Leicester, as the branches of trees knocked off their top hats, the Bowler was adopted by the working classes here and in the US. In the American West, Bowlers were the preferred headgear of goodies like Bat Masterson and baddies like Billy the Kid. As the cap rose in popularity in the UK, the black Bowler gradually moved up a class and became the uniform of respectable bank managers and the mufti headgear of off-duty officers of the Brigade of Guards.
Politicians liked to get into the act. Adolf even donned a Tyrolean effort; Harold MacMillan wore a rather unconvincing Cossack hat to ingratiate himself to the Russians on a détente expedition, while Chairman Mao wore a proletarian cap, although he was privately rather a dandy.
Talking of proletarian garb, I like the story of the laconic Yorkshireman inspecting the shelves at his local branch of tweedy Dunn & Co. “And what’s your fancy, Sir?” asks the attentive shop assistant, to be answered “Well as a matter of fact, it’s fishing and fooking, but Ah came ‘ere for a flat ‘at!”
At least in the eyes of the High Tory Duke of Wellington, headgear, especially when combined with radical opinions, could condemn a whole assembly: “I never saw so many shocking bad-hats in all my life” exploded the Duke on encountering the new House of Commons after the 1832 Reform Act.
But what, I hear you ask, of the ladies? It is less true to say that that the hat defines the woman. Ladies’ hats are frivolous and decorative confections, not badges of office. Ladies try to avoid other sisters wearing the same chapeau and hats enliven formal gatherings of all kinds, but these days they are seldom de rigueur except for the Enclosure at Ascot and royal weddings. The Royals maintain the tradition, with mixed success. Her Majesty can look radiant but too often looks grumpy: Camilla’s hats are sometimes a feathered or flowered disaster-zone: Fergie’s daughters’ recent fascinators did not much fascinate me: but Princess Diana carried her hats very well and Princess Kate looks promising.
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| H M The Queen |
Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall
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| Fergie's Daughters |
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| Princess Kate |
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| Princess Diana |
Anyhow, I say Hurrah for Hats and I hope readers male and female echo my cry. My dear Father always bought his brown felt Trilby from Lock’s, the famous hatters in St James’s Street, but my native Scotland also has its own distinctive headwear, Glengarry, Balmoral or Tam o’Shanter. So I will don my tartan Tammie and proudly stride around the streets of Athens, to the wonder and admiration of my Greek friends and neighbours.
SMD
22.02.2012
Text Copyright Sidney Donald 2012
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