Snrbfshn
A-List Customer
- Messages
- 345
- Location
- Charlotte, NC
It’s hard to convey the visceral reaction I had in finding this oh-so-apt site. This is my first post, but over the last month I have absorbed every page in the archives. I’ve waited to speak until I knew what had been said.
I’ve been a hat man since I was 18 years old, and over the last 36 years have been mystified as to why more men don’t wear hats. Was I the only one who understood the allure and benefits, both physical and immaterial? Didn’t anybody else notice that while standing in a crowd of men in the afternoon sun, I was the only one not squinting? Was there no awareness that, rain or shine, cold or hot, the brim is the key to comfort? Was there no appreciation of the style attained, or the thousands of compliments garnered by a man who graces himself with a hat? Could no other man feel the boost in self-confidence received when, in tipping one’s hat to a woman, seeing her eyes begin to sparkle and her hand unconsciously touch her breast? (Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been goin’ steady with the same beauty for 35 years.)
The answer is, Lord, yes! I find there are a precious few disciples; an enclave, which while sequestered, has the historical cant that bespeaks enlightenment. And what I have learned in mere days has buttressed what I have intuitively felt for a long, long time. For that, I thank each one of you.
Make no mistake, though. I’m a fledgling in vintage. Over the years, I’ve worn my granddad’s Dobbs brown straw, but my acquisitions until recently have been new. Since my mid-twenties, I commemorate major events in my life by adding a hat – Dobbs steel-blue fedora when I married, Flechet mohair for my first son’s birth, Stetson for my second son, Dobbs Panatwist for a big job promotion. You understand.
Then, after 34 years with the same company, I took a new job. But I was not able to find a brim I liked. In fact, I couldn’t find a brim worth a diddle anywhere around here. So I turned to the web, and among the sites googled, there was The Lounge.
The lightbulb went on.
And I’ve been applying my newfound knowledge. The hat that honors my new job is a Penny’s Marathon. Also adorning my closet now are a Cavanagh, a really nice golden-hued Resistol straw and a slightly moth-nibbled, too-big Dobbs for steaming practice. Soon to arrive are a Borsalino, an Imperial Stetson and a Knox 100 (yes, Brad, that was me that got it for 28 bucks). And I will post pix as soon as I’m up to speed on the tech side of this site.
I appreciate the dedication of those who handle and moderate this site. Mayhaps if my contributions are deemed worthy, someday I’ll be allowed to learn the secret sign.
I’ve been a hat man since I was 18 years old, and over the last 36 years have been mystified as to why more men don’t wear hats. Was I the only one who understood the allure and benefits, both physical and immaterial? Didn’t anybody else notice that while standing in a crowd of men in the afternoon sun, I was the only one not squinting? Was there no awareness that, rain or shine, cold or hot, the brim is the key to comfort? Was there no appreciation of the style attained, or the thousands of compliments garnered by a man who graces himself with a hat? Could no other man feel the boost in self-confidence received when, in tipping one’s hat to a woman, seeing her eyes begin to sparkle and her hand unconsciously touch her breast? (Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been goin’ steady with the same beauty for 35 years.)
The answer is, Lord, yes! I find there are a precious few disciples; an enclave, which while sequestered, has the historical cant that bespeaks enlightenment. And what I have learned in mere days has buttressed what I have intuitively felt for a long, long time. For that, I thank each one of you.
Make no mistake, though. I’m a fledgling in vintage. Over the years, I’ve worn my granddad’s Dobbs brown straw, but my acquisitions until recently have been new. Since my mid-twenties, I commemorate major events in my life by adding a hat – Dobbs steel-blue fedora when I married, Flechet mohair for my first son’s birth, Stetson for my second son, Dobbs Panatwist for a big job promotion. You understand.
Then, after 34 years with the same company, I took a new job. But I was not able to find a brim I liked. In fact, I couldn’t find a brim worth a diddle anywhere around here. So I turned to the web, and among the sites googled, there was The Lounge.
The lightbulb went on.
And I’ve been applying my newfound knowledge. The hat that honors my new job is a Penny’s Marathon. Also adorning my closet now are a Cavanagh, a really nice golden-hued Resistol straw and a slightly moth-nibbled, too-big Dobbs for steaming practice. Soon to arrive are a Borsalino, an Imperial Stetson and a Knox 100 (yes, Brad, that was me that got it for 28 bucks). And I will post pix as soon as I’m up to speed on the tech side of this site.
I appreciate the dedication of those who handle and moderate this site. Mayhaps if my contributions are deemed worthy, someday I’ll be allowed to learn the secret sign.
