HOW I BOUGHT A HAT.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 235, 27 June 1908, Page 11

HOW I BOUGHT A HAT.

I'vo just been to buy a hat. It sounds a very ordinary thing to do, but just as there aro hat and hats, so thero are shoppings and shoppings. Firm in tho belief that a friend's eyo is the truest mirror, I asked the trusty one to go with me and help me in my choicc. "Thero is a salo at Madamo's," she in- y formed me. "It began to-day, and shoal- S1 ways has such nice hats." _ j So to Madame's wo wended our way. Evi- n dently wo wcro not tho only people in search of a hat that day. The big show room was full of girls and women, all eagerly trying on hats, and all talking together. At j, tho far end of tho room wo espied Madamo c engaged in selling a toquo to two of our acquaintances—a mother and daughter. In { j an evil moment wo steered our way towards y thorn, and joined tho group. I say evil, | for I am firmly convinced that there is only £ ono possible way of buying a hat, and that is to go alone. , " Havo you any particular idea of what ( you would like?" asked Madame, with an engaging smile. "No, I am not very particular; except that it mustn't have feathers in it." ( " Mustn't havo feathers! " echoed Madame, j " But it is impossible to find a hat without one. Feathers aro tho very latest thing." 1 "Yes; and as far as I am concerned, the : last," I murmured to the trusty one. But to Madamo I replied politely that I should 1 rather not havo feathers. "Why not?" demanded tho mother and daughter voico. . . ( " For motives of humanity I refuse to wear the wings of wild birds in my hat," I replied, "and from motives of economy I refuse to pay fabulous sums for the feathers of the farmyard made up into eagles,'pheasants, and peacocks' plumes."' "What do you mean?" askod the mother. " Do you mean to say that this is not a real bird?" ■■ ..'in "This" was a starling dyed a vivid blue, with a large bunch of emu's feathers spreading out in glory on cither side. i I was spared the pain of disillusioning tho elderly friend by tho return of Madame with a couple of hats in her hands. I say hats, but umbrellas or tents would describe thera bettor. I shook my head, and remarked: " I'm afraid theso will be too big for me." "But all the hats aro large. lam suro when you try it on you will like it,' persisted Madame. So to picas© bor I tried ono on., 1 The ono sho had chosen for mo was a monu- ' mont of green velvet, with a whole barnyard _ ■ of fowl's feathors in charming tones of green 1 and blue cascading all over the crown. When 1 placed it on my head the effect was so ' grotesque that even my consideration for ' Madame's feelings could not prevent my ■ laughter breaking out. ! "Oh, take it off, tako it off," cried tho > trusty one. "What a fright you look." " It is very smart," said Madame, a little i haughtily, as she removed it from my head. " Yes, it's very smart," said tho elderly woman's daughter, "but," looking at mo critically, "it's not your stylo." I agreed thankfully that it wasn't, and meekly put my hoad under another hat, which, turning well up from my forehead, restod tenderly on my snoulders, while nearly to my waist there floated a long plum a formed of dozens of feathers, from " all little birds that aro." T "That's not my style either, I hurriedly decided. "Have you nothing simpler? " You should have a toque like mine, said tho elderly woman coming forward with a dark-brown toquo in ber liand. "Try this; it is far more suitable 1 ." , "Don't you think it s a little bit old? 1

queried. , . "Not a bit; not a bit. It's very like mine." . ■ , . Now, I never pretend to be in my teens, but still it is rather painful to bo put in the same category as a woman whom you have always looked upon as quito middle-aged. And I felt a little annoyed at her persistence that I should have a toquo like hers. So I turned awav rather petulantly, I fear, to look at the'hat the trusty one was holding towards me. In her hand it looked a very simple little thing of silk and violetsbut Iwhen I placed it on my head it looked like a thimble on a potato. The high, narrow crown simply sat on tho very middle of my somowhat massive head, with a rediculous

al "I tried that one," said the daughter, "and it suited mo beautifully. But you don't do your hair as I do. You must dress your hair smartly for these smart hats." I'm afraid my temper was growing slightly frayed as I answered, "I have neither time nor wish to do my hair any differently. As I turned away I thought I heard her murmur tho word "dowdy," but the rest of her sontence was lost in Madame's suggestion that if I had not enough hair of my own to dress it a la mode, I should twist in somo ready-mado curia. "Nearly everyono wears them, she explained, as I scornfully rejected her suggestion. "In fact, the hats aro so made that you can hardly do without them.. At least, all tho smartest hats." "Then," said I, "I shall not have a smart hat. Please show mo something more ordinary." ~ . But if there is one thing m which Madamo . prides herself it is her smartness, and to - ask her for something .ordinary is to seek " the impossible. In vain she brought me hat " after hat; some with huge brims, some with no brims at all, some turned up, some turned down, but, always and ever, trinimed with wings or quills or plumes, or widl bunches of fowl, turkey, or ostrich feathers, like a bewildered feather broom. The elderly woman and her daughter approved of most of the hats, but not ono" mo. The trusty one looked worried, and poked about in search of somethingof something "more my_style." I, tired and wearied of it all, tried hat after bat, only to reject each one in horror. I did not want anything very hard; only a plain, simple little hat, the sort of hat which a few years ago would have been perfectly easy to find. But, alas, such hats liavo I gone to tho land of lost delights, and there is nothing left now but nightmares and feather brooms to cover our lowly heads. At last Madamo said, "I fear I have nothing more to show you." With a sigh of relief I put my own old hat once more upon my head, conscious all the while of the contemptuously amused eyes of the elderly woman and her daughter. But I didn't care. I had stuck to my guns, and refused to wear_ a toque liko the elderly one's, or a bewitched fowlyard like tho daughter. " What will you do?" asked the trusty one, as wo went down the stairs. ■'Do without," I breathed with heartfelt conviction. And so here I am; having spent nearly two hours in trying on hats I didn't want to see, I find myself still hatless, and with three new wrinkles and a grey hair, the only result of my day's shopping.—"Sydney Morning Herald."