Silly? Perhaps. Mischievous? You bet.
Do you ever have those days? You know? You burn the toast, and, gosh darn, those were your last two slices of bread. You drop the half-gallon of organic, BGH-free milk. It spills all over the kitchen floor. The accountant does not return your calls. Neither does her assistant. You puncture your pantyhose with a fingernail whose No Spain, No Gain polish is chipping. Drat. Darn. This is the day you need a pick-me-up, something more playful, with more attitude than caffeine. You need a frisky hat. A saucy hat. A hat that stands tall and defies the world to say boo. A hat that announces you will not be ignored. But yet . . . a hat that laughs out loud in bell-like tones. You need this hat, from 1939. Ladies Home Journal 1615. Take it on the chin, naysayers. Because you will not be defeated. Not by blackened bread. Not by a soiled floor. Not by number crunchers. Not by nail polish. You have a sophisticated hat. Oh. So. It could be from Paris. London. But. You made it yourself. So there.