James gave me this hat. (I call him Jim. He answers to it. If I mention him again here, I'll call him Jim). He'd had it made for him. To order. In Saville Row, FFS!
Reckons this hat's been right around the world. The Aussie Military hat I was wearing at the time had just been around my place and into town.
Must be about six months since he gave me this one. Seemed still in mint condition. I actually found I liked this one so much, I gave my other hat away. Sent it to someone in england.
The thin and stylish leather band, round the outside of the crown was the first to go. Sadly, it rotted away and fell off in short order. Shame. It really did set the hat off well.
Then, the sweat and grime started seeping through the felt. This made the front and top go black. Ye can't help this. There's no way a normal person can clean a grimy felt hat. Not that I know of.
In fact, in short order, my hat's become So fucking manky that, only a week or two ago, I was at Dean O's and he needed to get to something and my hat must've been on it ~ I take it off to use his headphones. I need films louder than he can bear.
Dean said; " Can ye move That fucking thing, please? " He mean't my hat. No way he was touching it. Even then.
I've seen so many wannabe 'Countrymen', 'Stockmen' or 'Drovers' at Field Sports or even Horse Fairs, in my time.
Perfect, Akubra made hats. Clean, full length waxed coats , with clean collars. Varnished and carved sticks. Wankers! Week enders.
Live the life? Walking the walk? Hard on a hat!
My Hat
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