When I made the enormous and brave decision to start blogging (I kid: it was a question of working out how the to sign in to WordPress. Though that opener is the start of my Best Actress Oscar speech) I expressly decided that at no point, ever, would there be any post where I modelled an outfit.
One day, I may eat my own words on this (when, in my hazy daydream of the future, I reach the same clothes size as Taylor Tomasi Hill you can trust I’ll be appearing all over this here website in this, just for the sake of high jinx) but for the moment I am steering clear of self styling. I’m neither qualified or equipped or ahead of the curve to press words on the subject of what to wear and when, and plus, there are people that do it way better. Or indeed, so well I not-so-secretly want to be them. There are even whole magazines dedicated to explaining what you should wear for drinks with the girls, a Saturday date and a coffee work meeting. So if I do mention fashion, Fashanu, it’ll be from a position of rookie enthusiasm.
Or, in the case of this post, from position of total, unbounded awe. For today we are ogling insanely brilliant headwear (hats is too restrained in this instance – for reasons you will soon understand) and first up is probably the greatest thing ever committed to celluloid. Or coral. Elizabeth Taylor, we salute you.
It continues with Richard Burton in a cape, people:
Encroyable you say? I say here’s more hot hatness oh buddy, oh pal:
Above: More motherhatting brilliance from ADR, photographed by Stephane Feugere for Style.com before Carine Roitfeld’s Parisian Vampires Ball, 2011
Above: Daphne Guinness photographed by Simon Burchell attending the Maison Martin Margiela 20 Exhibition, 2010
You’re welcome. Go forth. Trash your fascinators. Wear a Davy Crockett for that Saturday date as well as the tasteful outfit Glamour told you to buy. You might leave your coffee still single, but you’ll be well-dressed and awesome. And knocking charisma clear out of the park.