Ceci n’est pas un chapeau. It’s some sort of magic.
It’s true! I went into The Franklin Shops in lovely downtown Fort Myers & I tried on a hat, knowing full well that it would not, could not fit my sizable squash. At best, the average non-bespoke chapeaux of the world have sat atop my crown, threatening an escape on a whisper of air. At worst, hats have rested above my brow and clifflike forehead (misunderstood, before he dove into literacy, by my dear boy as “fourth head”. They’ve peaked high, sans cranial support, as though I was smuggling penguins or bowling pins. I tried on another hat, of grosgrain ribbon and lovely sorbet colors. I don’t know why I tried, it was a strange & joyous squeal that burst forth & stunned me long enough to rest the hat on my crown and I tugged at the brim gently and it hugged my head and made my winded hair & snowy visage beam enthusiastic as though I’d always been one of those women who glow most entrancing with hair in a utilitarian rubberband & paint stained overalls, those rare creatures who after a day of surf, sand, & slatheting sunblock on squirmy sea babies they glow and their hair looks better than at the start of the outing.
It’s this hat that is the secret. I’m very nearly convinced that it is a magical hat. I could go outside with only my hat and likely the perfect clothes would appear projected over my nakedness & only I would be aware that I’d forgotten pants & probably locked myself out of the apartment again.
I am curious, though, do you have an article of clothing or accessory that makes you feel so divine?
Please share while I post a reminder to doublecheck for pants & keys on the backside of my front door.
Accidental Thong 