Hat update

In my quest for the elusive hat, I seem to have made an exciting break-through, but I am not getting my hopes up quite yet.

To recap (no pun intended), and for those of you who fell asleep during my previous rants on the perfect tweed hat, here are the facts of the case so far:

A few years ago I deluded myself into believing that I had reached the age when I could get away with wearing a mildly flamboyant hat, whereas - in reality - I had reached the age when I no longer care too much if people laugh at me as I walk down the street. The youth of the latest generation are so sensitive to the nuances of shifting trends, that they can spot the minute differences between one set of hideous trainers and another, which - in their acutely attuned eyes - shouts "Last year's model!" in a voice too loud to be ignored, warning of ridicule by their peers.

I, on the other hand, recently wore a beloved pair of corduroy trousers in public for about three weeks, despite the fact that they had developed a gaping hole right in the crotch which would have exposed my entire collection of crown jewels were it not for underpants. Somehow I managed to ignore all the women whose eyes were immediately drawn to that area of my body, until I was confronted by a whole family of Indian ladies, all staring at my shrouded todger as I passed by. I still haven't thrown them away, though.

Inexplicably, the closest thing to the hat above which you are able to buy off the shelf these days, is a mean, mingey, almost comically small sort of Trilby which makes anyone over the age of 40 look like a low-class bookie, and anyone under that age like a wannabe Pikey, especially if they they have a dog in tow - preferably a lurcher. (Am I allowed to say 'Pikey'? If not, apologies to any Pikeys I may have offended).

Then I found almost the exact model for sale on the website of the famous London hatters, 'Bates' in Jermyn Street. I thought at the time that the old boys who have been running Bates for the last 150 years could not have maintained their own website, and I was right.

I soon discovered that the only way to communicate with them was by sending a fax - yes, a fax - to a shirt-maker who operates from a premises about 3 doors down from them, then wait for the shirt-maker to pass on their cryptic messages (a procedure that takes about 3 days) via new-fangled email, having translated it into something vaguely understandable, but only understandable in the literal sense.

Having gone through this rigmarole a few times and given the hatters my exact head size along with my choice of tweeds from about 2 options, I was ready to post off a cheque for about £90 when I received a missive via the shirt-maker, regretting to inform me that - due to a 'shortage of Harris Tweed' - this model was no longer made by Bates and Co.

The difference between this particular model of hat and all the Trilbeys they sell amounts to about a half an inch extra on the brim, and a half an inch extra on the crown, so the shortage of Tweed must be critical indeed if it is rationed so strictly that they cannot afford to spare any for the model I had set my heart on. Bates and Co still advertise the hat on their website, however, and I wonder how many people have been subjected to this ultimately disappointing torture since I gave up.

A while after this bitter blow, I found what was described as an Irish 'Walking Hat' for sale in a second-hand shop in Chicago, USA, and after spending about £30 on it and another £40 in postage and customs charges, I wore it all through the last winter. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but it sufficed for the time being. I can also tell you that it made no difference at all to the way I walk, but I have never walked in it in Ireland, so I don't know if the title is a breach of the Trade Descriptions Act or not.

Then - late this summer - I stumbled across a nice Hungarian women who is a good tailor and has a fine selection of tweeds in her practice, so I asked if she could make me this hat. She said 'no problem', just send her a picture of it by email and she would get back to me. I am still waiting to hear back from her, 2 months later, and winter is coming on.

Now I have been put in touch with a milliner who has a business in Taunton, Somerset, and she tells me that she will make a prototype to try before making the real thing, and that she imports all her own tweed from Scotland. Sounds good.

Although she usually caters for women in general and Ascot ladies in particular, she seems to be keen to make more gentleman's hats, and wants to use my design as a starter for a larger range. Still sounds good.

She told me that it was ironic that I should send her a picture of Basil Rathebone, because this summer she produced a 'Fascinator' (remember Beatrice's one at this year's Royal Wedding?) called 'The LeStrade', based on inspector LeStrade's hair-cut in one of the Sherlock Holmes films of the 1930s. I'm not sure how good that sounds. There is a touch of the piss-take in this head-gear, it seems to me, and it is aimed at men and worn by women. I hope that my hat is not handled in the same flippant way. It's a serious business, you understand.

Wish me luck.