The Ugly Hat

My mum shows a real talent for unearthing both hilarious and horrid things from her daughters’ childhoods or adolescence. Once it was a single crocheted glove that belonged to my sister Star; another time a pair of olive green velvet knickerbockers of mine (which mournfully no longer fitted me so I donated them to charity).

Then more recently there was this blue hat. It was part of my uniform I wore for my casual job at the Arnott’s biscuit factory during my art school years. Behold it in all its polyester glory. Isn’t it hideous? Ladies with long hair had to wear hairnets too – fortunately I escaped that horrible fate. I had to laugh when I put it on again though, it actually somewhat resembles a 20s cloche – the kind a maid wore. (My vintage 20s duster cap is much prettier.) Which is quite apt as the repugnance I have for this hat probably owes more to its associations with my past servitude than intrinsic ugliness.  

This is one accessory which will not be taken out in the light of day (or the dark of night for that matter), but I am too sentimental to part with it.