With apologies to Johnny Cash, I crossed a line today. Bought my first cowboy hat. Well, at least since I was six.
Why? Been meaning to visit the Sundance Saloon, the SF country-western spaces for homos, where they can teach you how to dance. This weekend is Stompede, by the way, but I am not up for that yet.
Took my ex with me to buy the hat. I am not a hat guy...long in the face and the neck, I have gotten used to baseball caps only in the last few years. So a Stetson style is a stretch. But I trust the ex's judgment in these matters completely. He has never steered me wrong.
So, there it is. I wandered across the street to the gym to visit a friend and took a look at myself in the big mirror there: jeans and black t-shirt, boots, and this hat....I am thinking, "Not so bad"...and I am thinking, "Who the HELL ARE you?"
Funny.
1 comment:
We actually had quite detailed discussions of this sort of thing on the FOA a long time back, so thought you might be interested in the 'party line'.
As a man who lives rurally, I can vouch for the deep connection formed between a man and his hat.
You can't get by with baseball caps in such harsh sun if you live in the country and spend any more than the briefest amount of time outdoors each day.
You get used to always reaching for your hat, and it becomes an extension of you, and each mark it shows is a record of all the hard work you've done in it. It's like living proof of your achievements.
I lost this one in a swollen river last year, and it feels like i lost my left hand at times. Still trying to break in a new one.
I suppose the Andro perspective here would be to *earn* the right to wear a cowboy hat by doing regular outdoor work - don't keep it in a glass case and pull it out to pose in.
For example, I wear bandandas to protect my lungs during the frequent dust storms here, not to signal I take it up the arse sideways with bells on.
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