The Semiotics of Hats
Sept 6 2014


My new hat, I flatter myself
proclaims good taste
frugal practicality.

Its broad brim
has an elegant snap.
Its dome is ventilated, lightweight,
so it does not sit
heavy as a crown on the head of state,
but breezy as a cap
on a sovereign man,
who is more often than not
ungovernable.
And a chin-strap
that makes me feel like a little child
sent outside to play,
woollen mittens tied
snow-suit snugly zipped.

Admittedly, this is not at all cool.
It proclaims to the world
I am middle-aged.
Sensibly sun-safe,

and well past the age

of backward ball-caps

poseur berets,

of pork-pies, fedoras
and any ironic form

of hipster headgear.

A well-recognized brand

that neatly broadcasts
white, middle class
conventional.

Which I protest,
imagining myself too original
to dress like them,

a free-thinker, bumbling along
happily oblivious

to fashion.

But whatever happens
this hat will serve me well.
The withering sun, repelled,
receding hairline
well-hidden.
Its generous brim
tipped down over my eyes
as I gaze, inscrutably

out into the world.
A man of a certain age
suitably accessorized.

This is my second "hat" poem, and I find them both delightful. What is it about hats that invites word play and whimsy?!! (And not only that, but I actually managed to use the word "accessorized" in a poem. Which is something, since it's not a word I've ever come even close to using in real life!)

Anyway, if you haven't guessed, it is of course a "Tilley". And I realize that this hat allows the world to immediately size me up, pigeon-holed into -- as the poem goes -- nicely "middle-aged", as well as "white, middle class, conventional". It doesn't matter than I'm not. Conventional, that is. Or that I didn't buy it to fit in, but because it's practical and well-made.

The chin strap does make me feel silly. But the lightness is delightful, and the extra-broad brim perfect for summer.

And in the right social circle, it is even fashionable. Which might be a first for me. Because, as I've written before, I am not only oblivious, I revile the whole notion of fashion: what it means in terms of status-seeking, conformity, and wasteful obsolescence. So I console myself that being fashionable depends on intent: if it comes about by accident, then it's more like children playing dress-up with an old chest of clothes. And console myself, as well, that elegant and timeless good taste supersedes mere fashion.

After writing and posting this, I decided to share it with the Tilley hat people. Here's what I wrote:

My old Tilley hat - classic cotton duck -- was recently retired after approximately 20 years of loyal service. In its place, I purchased a new Lightweight Mesh.

There are certain risks in sporting a Tilley hat, because it says something of the wearer: that one is of a certain age ...that one has aspirations of being fashionable ...and that this elegant head-covering is a mere distraction from the receding hairline underneath.

Nevertheless, I quite like my new Tilley hat. And it inspired a poem, which I'm pleased to share with you.

Enjoy ...