It’s hard to feel spring here when the temperature hovers in the 30s and 40s. But the garden belies the temp and spring beauties push their way through anyway.
Last week I was helping my mom sort out my dad’s things. Among other treasures that came home with me was an old fedora. My dad was a hat lover (maybe that’s where I got it) although in more recent years he favored the baseball or truckers cap style which I can’t abide. He must have had thirty or more of these, all bound for some charity now. I picked up one of his old fedoras years ago and occasionally wear it. When I found this one in his closet, I knew it had to come home with me.
My dad had a remarkably small head. He wasn’t big by anyone’s standards, 5’7″ at the most with a slight build when he was young. He looks about twelve in a photo while he was in army and his original service jacket doesn’t fit me or anyone else in the family — and I’m pretty slight myself. His hat, however, fits perfectly.
I would say my dad loved clothes, that he was a clothes-horse. He shopped, and he shopped for bargains (though never second-hand, he left that to my mom). In his working days, suits (and wingtips!) graced his form. He was short, but he made sure he was snappy! Back in the day men of his kind wore hats, but it looked to me like he wore them with a special elan. That they added an extra spring to his step and inches to his height.
I don’t think it adds any height to mine, but I like the look anyway.
I love the detail on this blouse:
I almost wish I had pared this fresh color with a shocking green or a soft grey-green like the fedora. Or a deeper purple like the plum in the background. Maybe next time.