When Ruffles Go Bad

Today at lunchtime I went for a walk ostensibly to get some fresh air, enjoy the sunshine and look for lost things, but inevitably my feet lead me to an op shop (thrift store).

I had a little browse and picked up a couple of nice things to mull over, and then pounced on a little 1950s beige ruffled hat that was so hideous I had to try it on. As my friend said when I sent her a photo, it looked like early Dame Edna.

Isn’t it awful? I don’t understand it. Some vintage hats are peculiar and inexplicable, but whimsy gives them charm. This one I just don’t know. Who thought that a bonnet of ruffles framing the head would be a good idea? It’s a bit like a mobcap on steroids. About the best I could say of it was that it fit very well, and it was well made, with a sturdy lining. At $15 it was too expensive to even buy for a laugh.

I ended up buying a wonderful violet straw hat with a huge brim that is flexible enough to turn up in any direction, and also a broken vintage umbrella which I am going to cannibalise for spare parts (I have another vintage umbrella that is missing a steel tip that goes on the end of a spoke.)

So that was a successful op shop trip in the end: a new hat, spare parts and a laugh.

Photos: Today