This is your warning: I bought a hat and I'm never taking it off. It's a big, black hat and I think it's fabulous. That said, I know I won't hear the end of it, especially from Gert. There is no way you can see me in this hat and not react. It's huge and Euro and I look like Annie Hall, Diane Von Furstenburg, or similar.
It takes a certain kind of gal to pull this hat off and for whatever reason, I feel like that kind of gal. Maybe it's the two glasses of wine I had with lunch. Maybe it's because I'm in Italy. Maybe it's because my head is fucking freezing. Either way you cut it, I'm now wearing a monstrous, black hat and I think I look fierce. So do Mom, Dori, Kate, and especially Jenny. Thus, I'm wearing this with pride and passion. Maybe I shouldn't anticipate the un-sophisticated American backlash I know I'm going to receive. Maybe I'm underestimating my posse of pals who have no problem telling me when I look like a hooker, prison wench, or bag lady.
But I say this to you now; when you see me in this hat that's bigger than a suitcase, know that it is my favorite thing I now own and makes me happier than any man ever will.
I bought a big, black hat today. And I can't stop admiring myself in store windows...