Some South Woodford scribbles from DD, our resident diarist and observer of all things local. Illustrated by Evelyn Rowland
Recently, we treated ourselves to a ‘bargain break’ in Winchester. What a bonus: we were there on market day and we each bought a hat. David’s was tweedy and dignified, a flat cap. Mine was rather jaunty, a baker boy hat, I discovered later.
But we spent most of our time exploring the magnificent cathedral. Perhaps we even hoped to catch a sense of the presence of a dear, deceased old friend of ours who had been the bishop there for 10 years. He once recounted an experience of processing in line into St George’s Chapel, Windsor, with other knights of the Order of the Garter, when a sudden gust of wind sent his lordly hat flying. Feeling unsure about the protocol of going back to retrieve it and deciding it might seem undignified, he walked on, only to detect the sound of running steps behind him. He turned around and retrieved the errant hat from the smiling hands of the then Duke of Edinburgh.
Back home in South Woodford, I sensed a new, joyfully silly theme developing for the January edition. George Lane, here we come! Kevin was sporting an impressive fedora. “I just happen to like hats,” he said. “I feel the heat in the summer. I feel the cold in the winter. Look at me! I’m middle height, sturdy build and bald as a coot. Wearing a hat protects me at least from being mistaken for a bouncer!” Thanks Kevin. Your frankness convinced me there could actually be significant mileage in the unlikely topic of hats!
Altaf was buying his morning paper at Sainsbury’s. I admired his elegant Panama style. “I always feel comfortable in a hat,” he said. “My son knew that, of course, and he had this one made for me on one of his trips abroad.” He took it off and we both peered at the label inside. Gosh, ‘hand-woven in Ecuador’!
Mary emerged from Greggs: “I fell in love with hats 30 years ago when my daughter presented me with a gloriously colourful, flamboyant, pill-box-style felt hat. Mustard colour with cyclamen, pink and emerald-green decoration. I lacked the confidence to wear it for a few years, but then I decided hats suited me. I felt quite plain, but the hat transformed me. Now I have six berets in different colours. There’s consternation if I turn up at my Jazz Club on Mondays hatless!”
“Do you sometimes wear a hat?” I asked Clare. “Yes, indeed. Mainly for special occasions. I always wear a hat when attending a funeral, as a mark of respect. And, of course, a wedding is a chance to dress up. In my view, if the ceremony is in a church, you wear a hat. You are honouring a special day.”
Vipun was very happy to chat: he had been born in India in 1963 but has lived locally for the last 23 years. “It’s a great place to live, midway between the countryside and the city. Actually, I’ve had a transplant. My brother donated a kidney. On cold days, I wear this woolly hat to cover my bald head. In summer, it’s a baseball cap. My dermatologist advised me about avoiding skin cancer. So, you could say I’m hatted for medical reasons.”
Down at the station, Naomi didn’t hesitate: “I feel cool wearing a hat, and it keeps me warm.” We both laughed at this! “I’ve got loads of hats, all brightly coloured,” (today’s was in dazzling purpley pink.) “If I’m in a hurry I can just throw one on and go. It makes life easy.”
I was to be educated by my next contributor: Harry was sporting a ‘beanie’. “This is called streetwear. I bought it years ago. You can see the logo of the Wu-Tang Clan here, a famous rap group in New York. They teamed up with the Rockwell Clothing label. Often, a performing group will collaborate with a designer as part of their marketing strategy.” Harry’s partner, Priya, was more down-to-earth: “A cap with a brim protects your eyes, but really, I just love the fact that no one can see your hair’s in a mess.”
Dean was wearing a baseball cap. Not just any baseball cap. Clear to see was the Armani designer label. “I look for good quality clothing. I have a trilby for more formal wear.” His wife Kellie was nodding: “Our daughter has a hat for every occasion, including a rather lovely flippy floppy bonnet covered in animal prints.”
Isolde was helping out at St Mary’s grand annual Christmas Charity Bazaar. “Oh yes!” she said. “In the summer, I get lots of compliments on my purple and orange sunhat. It’s covered with pin badges; there’s one from the Great Western Railway, there’s even one from Mont Saint-Michel. Really, a hat ties your outfit together, the hat, coat and shoes. One hat I knitted looks exactly like a large orange complete with a green stalk on top. Another is in the shape of a Christmas tree complete with fairy lights that I can turn on from a little switch in my shirt pocket.”
My brain has been teeming with hats! Some worn with pride, like the green beret or the jockey cap; some born of tradition like the boaters at a regatta or the mortarboards on graduation day; some for identity like the policeman’s helmet, the chef’s white topper. We all picture Sherlock Holmes in his deerstalker and Captain Hook in his striped bandanna. Imagine Tommy Cooper without his fez, Charlie Chaplain without his shabby bowler or Willie Wonka without his purple topper.
Let’s allow the fashion gurus the last word on hats: Christian Dior went magnificently (crazily) overboard: “Without hats, there is no civilisation,” he proclaimed. (Surely with a smile on his face?) But I prefer the less grandiose comment from world-famous Philip Treacy, ‘perhaps the greatest living milliner’ according to Vogue magazine: “Hats make people feel good. That’s the point of them!”
To contact DD with your thoughts or feedback, email dd@swvg.co.uk