On Wearing Hats

She started having dreams of hats when she was still growing. Bowlers, fedoras, caps, beanies, porkpies but her favorite of all was a beret. She dreamed of it at night, and day-dreamed of it at day. Songs along the radio seemed intoxicatingly sweet, life with a beret, they would sing to her, would be much better than the life she lived.

So she took her spare change and showed it to the thrift store. She acted casual when she dropped the dimes onto the counter, smiled at the owner, and said it was like the one she had before. But, she kept it in the bag until she got home, and tried it on in private, looking at the mirror. She and her beret. She danced and sang radio songs, and thought about compliments she’d get the next day at school.

She smiled and bowed, and waved to friends, with her dark red beret she adored so much. But she didn’t get those compliments, she got gawks and ganders and glimpses of disgust. Everyone else, in their fancy white berets, gold bowlers, and beanies with little sequin beads; they knew how to wear a hat, it was obvious to her that she was just playing dress-up.

She refused to come out of her room or board up her tears, when her mother said, that berets were meant to be worn angled to the side. She called it dumb, and hated that she loved it. So she stomped it twice, and threw it out the window, and said she’d never wear such a silly beret again.

Her next hat was much better. A brand new fedora, it was stylish, and chic, and she got so many compliments, she knew that it was the right decision, even if she didn’t like fedoras so much.

Even when it wore out, she kept on placing it on her head. After years, though, no one quite took notice from her fedora –besides, caps were in instead. So she goes out to the bank and takes out her time and money, and buys all the hats she sees. Once she ran out of money, she started stealing them from department stores, and friends, and even her little sister who just started wearing hats. She grabbed hats right off women’s heads in clubs, schools, libraries. What could she do? She loved hats, and people loved her the more she had.

Then one day she left all her silly hats behind and bought a lovely white lace veil. It was the smartest, prettiest, and most expensive of all her things she’d ever worn on top her head. Her parents were delighted. Her friends all came and said they hoped they would get a veil as lovely and as elegant as hers.

As she walked one day, with her veil on her head, she saw a little old beret sitting in a thrift store. It couldn’t be, but luckily, at least for the beret, and the girl, and the author, (but not so luckily for the veil,) it was her very first, slightly worn, dark red beret. She cried with joy, threw her arms up into the air so high she scared all the flying birds. She threw her veil off; as pretty as it was, it was no little, old, dark red beret. She tossed all the money she had on the thrift-store counter, tapped the beret on top her head (straight forward!) and danced and sang radio songs.