Still Enchanted by Hats and the Memories They Hold

The Boston Globe

I miss hats. Not the pull-over-your-ears, knitted, ugly wool creations designed solely to keep your head warm, the kind we are all being forced to wear right now. (Note: Despite advertisers' creative claims, there really is no such thing as a "Fashion" Windproof Pullover Cat Ear Warm Knitted Hat Toque.) No, what I miss are the totally superfluous, impractical pillboxes, cloches, and wide-brimmed beauties designed solely for sitting on top of a head and making the wearer look pretty.

My mother used to sell these decorative things back in the early 1960s at Wethern's in Quincy Center. She was the store manager, which meant she was the boss, which meant she made up the rule that she could "borrow" whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. So every Saturday night at 6 o'clock, after she closed the store she'd pack up two of the fanciest and most expensive hats, one for her and one for me, and take them home. Come Sunday morning, we'd tuck the price tags inside the back brim, don the hats, put on our white gloves, and head for church.

We didn't have much in the way of luxuries back then, but if you saw the two of us on a Sunday morning, you'd never know.

"Downton Abbey" got me thinking about all this. I'm new to "Downton Abbey." I got hooked just six weeks ago. Despite the whole world for years telling my husband and me all that we were missing every Sunday night, we were episodes behind and figured we could never catch up.

And then the snow began to fall. And fall.

We're at Season 5 now, not only caught up but totally hooked. We can hold our own in conversations about Lady Mary (two thumbs down) and Mr. Bates (did he, or didn't he?). About Time, which really is the main character in "Downton," and the only consistent one, and about the many styles and traditions that come and go.

But it's the hats that have bewitched me.

Braided straw. Satin and feathers. Shantung and silk. Trilby and cloche. Even the words are lovely. When did these things of beauty fall out of fashion? Why is it only at the Kentucky Derby that women, and men, are encouraged to wear hats these days?

When the Catholic Church relaxed its rule that women cover their heads in church, hats took a big hit. Sales fell at Wethern's. Hat sales fell everywhere. No more Easter bonnets.

The Princess of Wales made hats popular again for a little while in the 1980s. But now it's all hoodies and baseball caps and, God help us, bucket hats and beanies.

Years after hats fell out of grace, I still bought them. Foxboro Hat Shop was one of the last hat stores to close its doors. It was a huge place, the entire upstairs of an old building dedicated to felts, furs, and feathers.

I seldom wore the hats I bought though. What looked great in the store looked too show-offy to wear out in public. Once a friend borrowed one, a white, wide-brimmed straw hat to wear to the Kentucky Derby. And once I wore that same hat to a wedding in New Orleans. But all the other straw hats simply languished in boxes and faded with time.

I have a few felt hats left. I keep them not only because I think I will wear them someday, maybe today, who knows? Maybe while watching the season finale of "Downton Abbey"? But also because I like looking at them. I like where they take me, back to that little store in Quincy Center where my mother worked, where I was a child, where she was decades younger than I am now, where we would pose in front of a big oval mirror trying on every hat, talking, laughing, dreaming, planning.

Back. Back. Back to a time that I can still see.