I looked at
the offerings and wasn’t impressed. Like most places, they rolled out the
expensive stuff in an effort to impress me. But expensive isn’t the same as
good. I needed a hat to last, and the expensive, exotic felts and ribbons
wouldn’t do that. They clerks kept searching through their stock as I
disregarded hat after hat without even trying it on. I even pointed out the
reasons as they approached: brim too narrow, crown too high, wrong color, poor
lining, bad leather in the band.
After an hour I could tell they
were getting frustrated with me, until, finally, a clerk brought out an
understated hat in a dark grey. The grey wasn’t the familiar banker’s grey I
knew and loved, but something about the way the felt folded in the clerk’s
hands made me want to take a closer look.
Buttery felt greeted my fingers and
head. The hat fit perfectly. It sat just right on my head. The crown was wrong,
but they could re-block it for me to give me the teardrop I wanted. The ribbon
had a double bow, different from my last hat, but it didn’t look wrong, just
different. It suited this hat. It suited the dark color and what I felt.
“Well, Phil,” I said to the hat,
“looks like you’re on the case. Partner.”