I've picked up a few hats this summer, two colourful floppy ones in the market in France and then a navy-and-white fedora and this Panama-style number both in a great little hat shop in Whistler, where my sisters and I had fun trying on different looks before three of us (well, two and a sister-in-law, but really, she's a sister!) went home with new lids.
Fast forward to this week with my 4-year old granddaughter visiting, and we have a moment that goes something like this. She spies my hat, lying on a desk, and remarks, "Whose hat is this, Nana?"
"That's mine," Nana answers.
"Oh, I love it!" says little girl, very enthusiastically. "It's so big. Like a farmer's"
"Just what I wanted," replies Nana with more than a smidgen of irony.
"That's what you wanted to be," picks up Nola, "when you growed up? A farmer?"
So I'm not sure I'll be taking this hat to Paris with me next year after all. Although the French do love their farmers, non?
** Since the timing's perfect, I think I'll join the party I just heard about over at Style Crone. Apparently, there's a gathering of hat-wearers there, and it seems it might be a good place to hang out -- you could check it out too! See you there. . .