Insp. Bumstead
New in Town
- Messages
- 44
- Location
- Chicago
I lost my hat a few weeks ago. I don't know how or where it happened. I just woke up one day, reached for it on the nightstand and realized I couldn't remember the last time I had seen it. I realize the title of this thread is mawkish. After all, hats are bits of fur and cloth, not people. Please just indulge me for a second as I try to work out my thoughts about this.
This hat was my first real fedora, a carbon grey Federation 4 with a trimmed brim. I don't believe in accumulating a lot of stuff so I only had the one. For the past 5 years, that hat kept the sun, rain and snow off my face traveling and living in three continents. The inside smelled like sweat and French girls' perfume and Chinese cigarettes. It smelled like doner kebabs and onions eaten in a dirty alley at 4 in the morning. It smelled like the ocean, and indeed, still had the salt stains from when I got drenched by a wave in Taiwan. When I went over the handlebars of my mountain bike in Hong Kong and slid down half of Lanshan mountain, I added a little bit of my blood to those stains.
It wasn't much to look at. My lousy creasing job left the crown higher on the left side than the right, and I never got around to fixing it. The rear brim was so soft it would flop up and down in a gentle breeze, probably from me falling asleep on it so many times. Not to mention the front of the pinch was slowly morphing into a curlicue shape from me grabbing it so much. But it fit my head and it fit my fingers, and it was mine, dammit.
I'm not a sentimental person, and of course a lot of people have way worse problems than this, but it feels like I've lost an old traveling companion who I'll never see again. Foolish as it sounds, I'll have to have a bit of a mourning period before I get a new hat. Thanks for listening Fedora Lounge.
This hat was my first real fedora, a carbon grey Federation 4 with a trimmed brim. I don't believe in accumulating a lot of stuff so I only had the one. For the past 5 years, that hat kept the sun, rain and snow off my face traveling and living in three continents. The inside smelled like sweat and French girls' perfume and Chinese cigarettes. It smelled like doner kebabs and onions eaten in a dirty alley at 4 in the morning. It smelled like the ocean, and indeed, still had the salt stains from when I got drenched by a wave in Taiwan. When I went over the handlebars of my mountain bike in Hong Kong and slid down half of Lanshan mountain, I added a little bit of my blood to those stains.
It wasn't much to look at. My lousy creasing job left the crown higher on the left side than the right, and I never got around to fixing it. The rear brim was so soft it would flop up and down in a gentle breeze, probably from me falling asleep on it so many times. Not to mention the front of the pinch was slowly morphing into a curlicue shape from me grabbing it so much. But it fit my head and it fit my fingers, and it was mine, dammit.
I'm not a sentimental person, and of course a lot of people have way worse problems than this, but it feels like I've lost an old traveling companion who I'll never see again. Foolish as it sounds, I'll have to have a bit of a mourning period before I get a new hat. Thanks for listening Fedora Lounge.