Fresh Fiction Blog | M.L. Malcolm | All It Takes is Hattitude

Any modern woman wears a great number of metaphorical hats: the mommy hat, the harried businesswoman's hat, the nurse's cap, the artist's beret, the taxi driver's cap, the tech support cap, the chef's hat, the gardener's visor....the list goes on and on and on. And I too, from time to time, wear all of those. But I also wear real hats. The decorative kind. A lot of them. I wear them so often that on those rare occasions when I am out and about without one, someone invariably says, "I almost didn't recognize you without a hat."

And I never appear at a book event without one (indeed I rarely go hatless when dressed in anything nicer than workout clothes), so when I'm doing a book signing I'm often asked, "Tell me about your hats. When did you start wearing them?"

I think my fascination with hats began as a small child, as soon as I learned to read. One of my favorite books was, "Go, Dog. Go!" by P.D. Eastman. For those of you who may have forgotten the exciting plot, it was all about dogs doing interesting things. ("One little dog going in. Three big dogs coming out.") Except there was also a riveting subplot about a well-dressed pink poodle (and I will resist the temptation to use an obvious misogynist pun, though it pretty much applies to every pink poodle-type I've ever run across in Beverly Hills). Well, Elegant Pink Poodle Lady Dog is trying to get the attention of a certain dashing Beaglish Boy Dog. She shows up every few pages, and after a coy "Hello," asks him,

"Do you like my hat?"

The object of her desire looks at her, then abruptly replies. "No, I do not."

How my heart went out to her! She'd obviously put so much effort into her hats. And they get more and more fabulous as the book goes on, until, near the end, at the fantastic Dog Party on the top of an enormous tree–all my life I've wanted to go to a party like that–trampolines, trapezes, fireworks, flowers and games, a massive cake, noisemakers, dogs (willingly) being shot out of a cannon–

But I digress.

So at the party, the pink poodle shows up in the most outlandish (even to a three-year-old) fantastical piece of decorative headgear one could possible imagine. Its ornaments include a daisy–in its pot, no less–a dog bone, a spider busily spinning, a mop, a pinwheel, two candy canes, and a toy mouse, just to name a few of the things adorning her head.

Now that was a hat. And he did like it, and they drove off together into the sunset in his little red sports car. I'm thinking the car meant he was a pretty well-to-do Beagle Boy. Good thing, too, because a woman that stylin' might be a little high-maintenance, if you know what I mean.

Perhaps that's where my hankering for hats began. I went from hats as dress-up accessories to wearing them "for real" in high school. Nothing fancy: a beret here, a fedora there. I did have a fantastic top hat that I wore to parties, and one time I even used it to smuggle soda into a Peter Frampton concert, with the cans balanced on my head underneath, so that we could mix...never mind.

In college I added a few more hats to my collection, but after graduating I went to France for a year. I gave all my hats away to friends, not having any room to take them with me or any place to store them while I was gone.

When I came back to start law school I had just one camel-colored beret to my name. Then I graduated, started working, and began to wear hats again. But this time it was different; I had spending money. Also, it was the 1980s. Clothes were structured and colorful, hats went right along with all that, and Princess Diana was regularly photographed wearing elegant millinery creations. So my hat collection began to grow both in quantity and quality.

Some of my hats have even acquired names. There's "Audrey," a simple, broad-brimmed black hat, and "Diana," an asymmetrical beige and black masterpiece trimmed with ostrich feathers, perfect should I ever be invited to visit William and Kate; another is a classic 1950s number in blue straw, which I call "Channeling Eve Arden."

The musical "Crowns" celebrates the special place hats play in the lives of African American women. I've seen it twice. At one point one of the actresses, wearing a huge day-time-extravaganza of a hat, tips the brim and tells the audience, "You can flirt with a fan. You can flirt with a cigarette. But you can really flirt with a hat."

Yup. My husband loves me in hats. In fact, he's responsible for the most flamboyant hats I own.

Wearing hats does set one apart. In 1988 my husband and I (through friends we knew at the Swedish Trade Council) were invited to attend an afternoon reception for the king and queen of Sweden. There were 300 people there, and only two wearing hats: me, and Queen Silvia. So what did I say in the receiving line?

"What a beautiful hat, your majesty."

She smiled and replied, "It's so nice to see an American woman wearing one. Yours is lovely."

Hat Heaven!

Women tell me that they don't wear hats because they don't think they look good in them. My husband's answer is this: "Any woman who thinks she looks good in a hat, looks good in a hat." Of course, it is important to wear a hat that is shaped correctly for one's face (I look horrible in a 1930s style cloche, because my face is already long and oval, and a cloche just stretches ...it ....out... even... more) but it's absolutely true that the real secret to wearing a hat is "hattitude."

Just one example: I was once in the ladies room of a very elegant hotel when a young woman walked in, wearing a "dress" that resembled nothing more than a glittery rubber band. It covered her body from just above her breasts to just below her buttocks, giving new meaning to the words, "skin tight." I was wearing a modest coat dress with a pretty dramatic cocktail hat–net, feathers, sparkles, the works–which she kindly admired.

"I wish I could wear hats," she then said.

"You should try," I advised. "It's fun. You'd look great in a hat."

"Oh, no," she responded, "I'd never have the nerve."

Hattitude.

As the talented Olympia Dukakis declared in the film, Steel Magnolias, "The only difference between us and the animals is our ability to accessorize." Hats are the most distinctive, entertaining, and becoming way to set yourself apart. Try one on. You might like it!

M.L. Malcolm is the author of two historical thrillers, the latest of which, HEART OF DECEPTION, was just released by Harper Collins. She owns, at last count, seventy-three hats, all of which she wears regularly.

Tell us what you think about hats or anything else to be entered to win your own copy of HEART OF DECEPTION.

March Into Romance: New Releases to Fall in Love With!

Authors To Watch

Fresh Fiction Blog
Get to Know Your Favorite Authors

M.L. Malcolm | All It Takes is Hattitude

Comments

Services

SPECIALS

FOR AUTHORS

We Love