If the hat fits, I wear it OR Identity lays on my head
Amanda wearing various hats: a toque in winter; my city hat for a January 2017 protest march; my pink pussyhat for a climate day action; and my cottage Tilley hat for outdoor chores. |
Cottage living is not country living but on our way to the cottage we pass through the country and, over the years, I have definitely adopted some country ways.
I wave at every car I pass on the gravel road heading towards the cottage. I call HELLO loudly as I walk down a cottage driveway to alert the owners to my presence. I made friends with the most forthcoming of the various men who have managed the ‘transfer station’, aka, the dump, in our cottage development. And I have learned to wear a hat.
It’s a particular hat, bought especially as my cottage hat. It’s a Tilley hat, broad brimmed, white canvas, indestructible. It doesn’t do much for my looks, but it does wonders for my sense of self as a cottage person. No matter what the outdoor chore or activity is, I reach first for my hat. Once donned, I am my cottage self, ready for a bike ride or a chore of any magnitude.
I bought a city equivalent many years when in Victoria, BC. It was raining that day and I had no umbrella, so I popped into a local shop and bought a hat, instead. Again, a Tilley but this one more stylish, more for going about town than heading to the dump. That one lives in the city closet, while the cottage hat hangs on a hook in the back room, waiting for me to grab it on my way out the door.
When we no longer have the cottage, I shall still have the hat. But whether I will wear it again remains to be seen. My country slash cottage self will have to figure out when to show herself and in what surroundings she will next be seen. Time will tell.
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If you missed my essay about cottage life in the Globe and Mail, you can read it here. And my most recent publication on the Five Minute Lit site is here — a 100-word micro memoir about an identity-related incident in high school.
The Tilley hat is a marvel of modern perfection. Other than wearing it when walking dogs in the rain, it remains on a hook by the side door.
ReplyDeleteThere is no other time I wear a hat.
Never, not ever!
And for me, it is a stylish Panama hat which according to its mistranslated label is made from paper. Nope made from palm fiber and turns me into Sam Spade.
ReplyDeleteMy dad had a Tilley he found on the highway that went through Salmon Arm, it was brand new and he loved strutting in his Tilley hat.
ReplyDeleteI purchased a Tilley hat in 1991, when I was still a college student (UPEI). I was working for the City of Charlottetown, as a manual labourer mowing the lawns of public parks, and needed a good hat. That hat has been with me through a load of bad times (hurricanes and car accidents) and good ones too (beautiful hikes, kayak and fishing adventures with my beloved father), as well as (possibly) the conception of our first child (once again, on a hike, amongst the ferns just off the trail in a national park; my wife is frisky, what can I say?). Anyhow, a good hat is a lifelong investment and can provide you with many good memories in your old age. 😉
ReplyDeleteAmanda, you look like an entrepreneur in each hat's identity. Thank you!
ReplyDelete