All throughout Paris and London I toyed with getting a hat. I perused the windows at Lock and Co, I stalked the display area for Maison Michele at le Bon Marche. The idea was fermented in Milan, after seeing scores of women running through the Galleria wearing their purchases from Borsalino. After that it just grew - the Italians wear hats well - until by the time I got to Paris all I could think about was snapping up an expensive felt topper of my own. I thought I had put this whole hat thing to rest. Remember the year before last when every second post was about hats and how I was obsessed with finding the right one? Well I found one, and I wore it, but I soon came to the realisation that I might not be a hat person. As I tried to explain to my friend in Paris, it all seems fine and dandy to buy a hat in Europe, and wear it with belted tweed coats and cashmere scarves wrapped tight, but then you get back to Sydney, and instead of being that girl in the hat, you're just that girl in the hat. I'm not convinced that I'm ready for the scrutiny that comes with wearing a hat. But I just can't quite get this image out of my head; of hair tucked up, and oversized turtleneck sweaters, and a stiff felt hat on top of it all.
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