"Ohhhh! Where is your wonderful hat?" asked the woman at the place I went for lunch.
(I explained about riding my bike to work now. She was reassured to learn that I do wear a helmet when I ride, and that I believe in obeying traffic laws and wearing lots of lights when I ride at night.)
When I went in to the Hat Guys (17th and Broadway, downtown Oakland — who really ought to be giving me a commission, considering how many people I refer to them), I said "I want something that's a little bit riverboat gambler, a little bit Argentinian gaucho, and very, very little 10-gallon-Stetson."
The guy I was talking to looked thoughtful for a moment, then pointed towards a back wall. "That one." And he was right!
Of course, now it's gotten all battered and disreputable looking over the years. It's so faded from the sun that it's not strictly black on top any more, more of a rusty shade. I've been pondering whether I can re-dye it. It's perfectly fine otherwise, so I certainly don't want to throw it out or replace it...
