I have of late, I know not why, become obsessed with the idea that if only I could get hold of the right hat, all my creative difficulties would come to an end. It’s not any old hat, you understand. It is a very specific hat. It is the Pinter Hat.
Let us look at the archaeology of the Pinter Hat. It is closest in form to the Breton or Greek fisherman’s cap. Not only a paradiddle of the working class, these are men who on a daily basis wrestle with the greatest of nature’s beasts, the sea, and do so to bring us the most basic of essentials, sustenance. These are men who are not only salt of the earth; their beards are encrusted with the salt of the salty sea.
But the Pinter Hat also references the stetltastic world of the Old Country, peasant days of herring and rye bread, poverty and pogroms. Later in time, it conjures up the spirit of the East End anarchists and their fight against fascism.
In the present day the Pinter Hat continues to connect across boundaries, to the toothy nudnicks doing the bagel run on a Sunday morning in Golders Green and Broughton Park.
If only I could find such a hat, my fiddlers would fly, my dybbuks would haunt, my golems would walk again, and all would be speaking in a peculiarly clipped aggressive tone of voice, ranting against the injustice and absurdity of the world.
Where to get such a hat?
I began my quest in a specialist nautical supply shop in Covent Garden, but I found the traditional Breton cap to be too firm in the base and too round up above. Maybe thick wool is not the right fabric.
Next came the Stussy Castro cap; good in its own way but too military, and when worn with a white singlet it does look a little camp.
My friend M lent me one of his squad, a cotton cap which was not unpeasant, but it was tan, which is not one of my approved colours (I am a Summer in the House of Colour system), and there are hygiene issues to consider in the used hat marketplace.
Last week I came quite close, picking up a beautiful black cap for £45 in Agnes B. Black is also not one of my colours, but I couldn’t resist, and although it is woollen, it is a particularly soft wool, and is shallow enough to sit pertly atop my head. I am happy with the hat; I will wear it, especially when we get into the heart of winter.
But it is not the Pinter Hat.
2 comments:
I think you need to be forewarned. Wool, especially virgin wool, tends to bobble. Ensure you take cellotape with you, when you wear your hat, so you can get rid of the bobbles. Don't, whatever you do, leave the cellotape stuck to the hat. It would kill the look.
thank you. as always, so much to worry about.
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