31 January 2007

Men In Hats



It is bitter cold in Arlington, and the backbone electric system at Big Pink is showing its age while exacerbating mine. The wind has been beating on the windows all night, a series of methodical body blows that are sucking the warmth out while thrusting spears of cold in.

I wish I could travel back in history to help influence the decision that put these crappy single-pane windows in the thick concrete and brick-clad walls. Now the pensioners who are traveling their uncertain way into the future on the upper floors have no money to contribute to reconstruction, and the soaring energy bills are eating their fixed incomes away.

Sad, really. Thankfully, we baby boomers will never grow old on a frozen budget, left behind in a booming city of construction cranes.

The bitter forecast includes the outdoor ceremony at Arlington at lunchtime. We are interring an old man who lived the fullness of a life, and is survived by his widow. Of all the things he did in a lifetime of achievement, the one that gave him the most pride was his role in securing the city of New York against the Nazis.

It seems quaint now, as if those monsters were ogres from a bed-time story. Their uniforms were black as night, with flashes of silver and high-crowned caps that accentuated the angularity of their faces and teeth. In their time, though, they were flesh and blood and quite voracious in their desire for that of the British and Americans.

In order to deny them access to the new world, a relationship with the Mob had to be established to keep the docks secure with the men who actually ran them. Certain promises were made, and certain ones kept, all through the years.

I want to honor his service, and all those who served with him. The question is how to dress for the graveside. Dark suit and tie, of course, and discrete camera to record the event for posterity, and those who cannot venture out.

A compromise in footgear is in order. I would prefer mukluks, for warmth, but that would be indelicate. Something more fashionable, I fear, and two pairs of socks. Perhaps a discrete dark cashmere sweater under the suit jacket, and certainly the big Burberry trench-coat with fuzzy liner zipped in. That is always in fashion in Washington, and the scarf that matches the lining and dark gloves.

I don't know what to do about the hat. It is unfortunate that John Kennedy eschewed his chapeau that cold morning when he became President. All the chief executives before him wore something, normally a top-hat of brushed beaver like the elegant Mr. Wilson.

After Kennedy, no one wore one. He was the tipping point in the history of haberdashery. Now, men in suits in the capital of the free world are stuck in a conundrum. There is no acceptable snap-brim to accessorize with the grave bureaucratic uniform. You see the oddest combinations when the weather is fierce, everything from watch-caps to full snowmobile covers. There is no compromise between being comfortable and looking ridiculous.

The exception is the military people, men and women, who know precisely what to wear, green or white their combination covers are suitable to all occasions.

It is only on days like this that I remember what a relief it was not to have to make decisions on that count. I was a member of an anomalous social group when I still wore the uniform of my country: a man in a hat.

In those days I knew two things when I left the house in the morning. I was going to wear a hat, and I knew precisely which one was appropriate for any occasion.

I know which one would be perfect for this occasion; one of the Russian fur numbers with ear-flaps. They knew how to survive the cold and maintain their fashion sense. Pity the communists are gone as surely as the Nazia.

I should have purchased one of those magnificent hats in Moscow the last time I was there. But that is the way of things, I suppose. You never know it is your last time, until the time is gone.

I expect that I will have to do this ceremony like Mr. Kennedy, warm only from the neck down.

Copyright 2007 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com

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