. Let me. Leave my hat on,outlettruereligionjeansrose
, that is. Because 'that' time ofyear has arrived TheTime OfThe Eternal Hat,Jeddediah Fagg
I've never had aneasy relationship with head-gear. Throughout my childhood I managed toavoid them as arule,chanel bags
. Sure, there was my uneasy truce with adun bobble-hat when I was inthe Brownies, andthen theairline stewardess look-alike cap I had as aGirl Guide the things I did forQueen andCountry but overall, I was always aware that generally, hats were not forme,true religion jeans outlet
I'm not sure why that was. Oh, alright, I know exactly why that was. I have abig head andfine hair,Longchamp Pas Cher
, adisastrous combination forany aspiring hat-wearer, and one that invariable tends toleaves me either looking like I borrowed my younger sibling's titfer (hat on), or with hair so lank, straight, andflat against my head that I might as well have tipped avat ofcooking oil over myself. Not,“A local CEO of Axosoft and his employees gave $5
, I am sure you will agree, desirable outcomes ineither case,cheap celine handbags
, here I am inMoscow. Where thetemperature for, oh, I don't know, five or six months ofthe year is so inclement that only afool would venture outside without 'protection.' Attimes, it gets so cold here that if you are silly enough toset foot onthe street without ahat, you will be accosted by well-meaning but more than alittle scary babushkas berating you foryour idiocy andprophesying doom inthe form ofcold, pneumonia andimminent death if you don't immediately put thewoolly bobble hat your mum knitted foryou back on. (Mind you, theymake thesame pronouncements about drinking beverages with ice inthem.)
So, atthe start ofmy third winter here, having spent theprevious two inan adequately warm but frankly unstylish wool confection from(name deleted toprotect theinnocent), I was determined that this year, THIS YEAR, I would find theperfect hat.
, I promise you, I tried,Competing in the Level 9 competition
. It's not as if Moscow is short onhats. They come inevery shape, size andmaterial, and surely there must be atleast one within my price range tosuit? But therein lies theproblem the within my price range disclaimer. Certainly, I saw lots ofbeautiful hats. Some ofthem inthe right light andwith half-squinted eyes actually suited me. But amongst theones I could afford? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. If only I could make like my sons andsimply throw whatever happened tobe warmest andfit me ontop ofmy head.
Instead, I've ended up with avelour number that looks distressingly like thesort ofthing your grandmother would sport ona trip tothe dentist and which, whilst it fits, doesn't even keep my ears that warm. Toadd insult toinjury, despite it's being too loose, it still manages bysome Moscow static magic toglue my hair tothe sides ofmy head by the time I take it off, leaving me with adaily dilemma: add 40 years tomy age andkeep my hat oninside like some misplaced Edwardian lady onsabbatical froma BBC drama, or remove theoffending item andlook instead like adrowned rat?