Hatful of hope

THIS is a tale about a hat.

Not a quintessential Aussie Akubra, British bowler, pork pie — once an essential accessory of the hard-bitten punter but, more recently, adopted by hipsters with questionable dress sense — or that good-ol’ US of A baseball cap, sometimes called a hat but never ever considered fashion.

This was a Panama. A very classy, very stylish Panama and quite upmarket from the traditional straw version.

My friend was the proud owner of this headwear, purchasing it after an enjoyable and quite longish lunch with colleagues in Melbourne recently.

It was while walking to Southern Cross Station to catch a late afternoon train to Geelong he found himself in City Hatters in Flinders St.

Now anyone who knows their hats knows City Hatters, an institution that opened its doors in 1910 and, I quote, has been serving “old, young, titled, swaggies, footy followers, RSL, race goers, Governors General, actors, personalities and anyone requiring a hat for any occasion” since then.

In an interesting aside, there is a local connection with this survivor of fashion trends — the founders, the Buzolich family, once owned five shops, four of them in Melbourne and one here in Geelong.

My learned friend, let’s call him “Laurie”, has a bent for all things traditional so there was never any doubt where he would shop for a hat for his social event of the year, the renowned May racing carnival at Warrnambool.

Those who have attended the three-day meeting will be well aware it is a raffle when it comes to weather. Sometimes the sun shines, more often it pelts and you can always bet the wind will be roaring off the coast to punish hospitality tents, umbrellas and people without hats.

“Laurie” decided a Panama would be a fine accompaniment to a new suit and to shelter him from whatever conditions the good Lord served up over the carnival.

Fashions on the Field was the furthest thing from his mind, but he did want to look smart. Not that my friend is a narcissist (there are far too many about these days!), but he is conscious of good form and good dress. A colleague once criticised a shirt and tie he wore with a natty pin-striped suit. His cutting response: “It’s called style; would you like me to explain what that means.” The reason for my friend’s alias is quite simple. You see this Panama, a masterpiece of Ecuadorean craftsmanship, cost a packet, so my friend reasoned it prudent to tell his partner he paid considerably less than the lavish sum he handed over to the good people at City Hatters. “It cost what?” she said when the Panama made its appearance. “You should have only paid half that!” Misrepresentation of the price aside, it was a wise move as peace returned quickly to their happy abode after this brief outburst. Laurie and I catch up regularly to hydrate, reminisce and talk about anything other than religion and politics. The latter is far too depressing, so why spoil the occasion.

The same day as the Panama purchase, we met at Billy Brownless’s genial establishment at the bottom of Pakington St.

Laurie arrived by taxi from Geelong station, much cheered by lunch and full of beans. But no sooner had he reached for his first Carlton draught than he noticed his loss. “Where’s my hat; I’ve left it in the back of the bloody cab.’’

Extremely agitated, he spent the next 15 minutes making frantic phone calls to the taxi company, finally speaking to a “lost property” representative.

After providing the relevant details, he slumped back in his chair, lamenting: “Well, I’ll never see that again.” Then, 10-ounces of amber later, there appeared an apparition of Harry Potter proportions — in reality, the mystery cab driver, a grin on his face, and the missing Panama.

In another moment of magic, my friend — never lost for words — was speechless. But only for a minute, the silence soon broken by hearty thanks, handshakes and much back slapping.

This brief exchange may seem a trifle, but it left lasting smiles on the faces of the owner, finder and others nearby. As my friend observed, hat now firmly on his head, it restored one’s faith in human nature.

In a world riven by selfishness, egos and conflict, it showed there is still honesty, decency, respect and compassion out there. And it bubbled to the surface all because of a hat. Graeme Vincent is a former Geelong Advertiser editor.