Modigliani
I’ve worn a lot of hats in my life. As an entrepreneur, I’ve been chief cook and bottle washer in probably a dozen small businesses from baking cheesecakes to designing greeting cards to writing books and everything entailed in getting them to market. But real hats? Maybe a handful, if that.
I just don’t have a head for hats. As much as I love them, they don’t love me. I have a small head and a narrow face, and most hats are too tall in the crown and make my face look too long. If I’m trying on hats in a shop, nine times out of ten I put one on, glance in the mirror, then take it off as quickly as I can before anyone sees me. Yikes! But over my lifetime, there have been a select few that worked and that I wore again and again.
Easter Breton
How cute is my little white straw Breton? (I think that’s what the style is called but I could be wrong.) It had navy blue trim, and I remember wearing it while walking around the school track in the Easter Parade. Here, if I’m not mistaken, I seem to be gathering eggs — or maybe it’s fruit — in my Aunt Blanche and Uncle Ernie’s backyard. That’s my late brother, Larry, wearing a rare smile. One of my favorite photos.
Isn’t it romantic?
Throughout my 40s I wore this woven hat in the spring and summer. Romantic, timeless, with an open crown that didn’t add unwanted length to my face, and perfect with dresses or jeans, I wore this hat until it finally fell apart.
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Not a real cowgirl!
- I love cowboy hats (and cowboy boots) but not having anything to do with horses, I feel like a poser when I wear them — unless we’re stepping out for some two-stepping at Swallows Inn where they’re de rigueur. (Hopefully we can dance in public again post-pandemic.) Still, I’m afraid someone will come up and say a la Sis (Debra Winger) to Bud (John Travolta) in Urban Cowboy, “You a real cowgirl?” (Of course she used the word “cowboy.”)
- Just a few months ago Garth and I were window shopping in San Juan Capistrano, and although the museum and a lot of the shops were closed, we wandered into a little boutique that had recently opened. Magnetically, I was drawn to this black hat, put it on, glanced in the mirror, and marched to the cash register. Wore it out of the store. Wear it walking the dog, running errands, meeting up with friends. I’m now the woman in the black hat.
Woman in Black Hat
My favorite hats are the ones in some of my favorite paintings (no surprise). Now, this, Woman in Black Hat by Egon Schiele, is how I’d really like to look in a hat…and I do, in my dreams.
Egon Schiele
Barbara BucklesArtist, writer, storyteller, spy. Okay, not a spy…I was just going for the rhythm.
I call myself “an inveterate dabbler.” (And my husband calls me “an invertebrate babbler.”) I just love to create one way or another. My latest passion is telling true stories live, on stage. Because it scares the hell out of me.
As a memoirist, I focus on the undercurrents. Drawing from memory, diaries, notes, letters and photographs, I never ever lie, but I do claim creative license when fleshing out actual events in order to enhance the literary quality, i.e., what I might have been wearing, what might have been on the table, what season it might have been. By virtue of its genre, memoir also adds a patina of introspection and insight that most probably did not exist in real time.
Barb, I love your line about having worn a lot of hats as an entrepreneur, but only a handful of real hats. That suggests so many possibilities for this prompt! But I’m glad you wrote about your real hats. The four hat photos you have shared with us are wonderful, from little girl to Woman in Black Hat. And the picture of you in the woven hat with your daughter would make a spectacular painting – if I were an artist, I would definitely paint it!
Aw, thanks Suzy. I just remember feeling lonely…it was just my daughter and me during that time of my life, but you made me look at it with new eyes! 😘
You look great in the select group of hats you wore over time, Barb! I’m so glad you got the black hat and love the art you selected to show as well. Modigliani is one of my faves. Thanks for a visually beautiful story.
Thanks, Mare…couldn’t resist the urge to include a couple of my favorite works of art. There are so many great paintings of women in hats! I always related to Modigliani with his beautiful narrow faces.
Barb, I saw this late last night before I went to bed but knew I was going to love everything about it when I saw the Modigliani image, without even opening the story and boy, was I correct. Like Suzy, I love that you start the story with the metaphor of having “worn many hats in your life”. It added context and richness to the whole prompt.
The photo of you with Larry is the essence of childhood sweetness. You look amazing in that hat and I am sure you cherish the photo. (I, too, have trouble finding hats that don’t overpower my small face; I understand your dilemma perfectly.)
With each new hat and photo, you defy your own prophesy and find yet another great one that suits you well. I love your current one, dear Woman in Black Hat. Maybe not the Red Head of Egon Schiele, but striking nonetheless.
Thanks so much, Betsy! It was the perfect opportunity to sneak in those gorgeous works of art that I’ve long adored.
Bebe, I love you in your hats and your wonderful braids! And love the Modigliani and the Egon Schiele gals in their hats too.
Come to NY when the plague is over to see more Schieles and other wonderful Austrian and German artists at the Neue Galerie (and have some wonderful pastry with me at the museum cafe!)
You’re on, Dee…and hopefully in the not-too-too-distant future!
I love you in your Easter Breton, Barb. What a sweet photo of you and your late brother. Not sure about the cowgirl hat, but you look awesome in the black one. And I love your featured image, one of my favorites.
Thanks, Laurie!
Wow, there really is a San Juan Capistrano, to which the swallows come home? That distracted me momentarily from your hat narrative! But it was fun to see and hear about the headgear too.
San Juan Capistrano is a wonderful little town that was established in 1776…very picturesque with a beautiful mission, great restaurants and shops, but still very quaint.
We had the same hat! If you read my story, you’ll see! It’s also interesting to see your comment and explanation about “not having a head for hats.” I don’t agree (you look great in all these hats), but it makes me wonder what it is that makes a “good head” for hats… I love the progression from little girl wonderfulness to sophisticated black hat wearer.Well done!
Thanks, Risa! I wonder if it’s purely subjective or if there’s a geometry to it. I think it probably just depends on finding the right hat…surely there must be a good hat for every head. And now to read your story!
I’m coming in a little late, Barb, so others have already made great points about your great story — starting with that (great, of course) first sentence and loving the photos both of you and of the paintings.
And, based on the photos of you, you are, in fact, very much a hat person. Indeed, the one of you in your recently acquired black hat makes clear that they are not only worn to terrific effect by the bad guys. May you continue to have wonderful opportunities to convince yourself of your great, er, “hatitude.”
p.s. And I must ask you: do cowgirls get the blues?
Thanks so much, John…and I think for a guy it’s called “hatidude.”
P.S. Since I’m not a real cowgirl, I’m unable to give you a definitive answer.
Love them all, Barbara! You look super in all of them but I think my fave is the straw Breton, as much for the many-layered attitude of a smart little girl that projects into the photo. I’d venture to say that personification of your spirit still beams out with the same intensity!
Aw, thanks, Charles, for such a sweet comment!