Some twenty-odd years after Blossom has ended, I still get asked the following question: “Do you still wear those hats?” The caustic side of me desperately wants to reply, “Yes, at all times, including while I’m showering and sleeping. In fact, when I gave birth to my daughter…” The kinder side of me prevails, however, and I generally respond, “Nope, I’ve been out of that phase for a while now.” In retrospect, it is still amazing to think that we started such a huge trend way back when. Who’d have thought it? People often inquire how the fad began in the first place. The wardrobe department can certainly be credited for the spread of floppy hats with flowers on them, but in general, Blossom’s history with hats began courtesy of yours truly. I only have myself to blame for every silly chapeau-wearing photo from my adolescence! (Not to worry, I’ve included a collage below, so you may laugh along…) The backstory goes like this: When I went to my first audition for Blossom, I wore a wide-brimmed, purple, felt hat with buttons down the front. When I got called back a week or so later for a second audition, they requested that I wear the hat again… and so began the character trait that dominated my teenage years. This is why you’ll rarely see me sporting anything other than a winter knit or baseball cap these days. In some ways, I suppose my former stint as a sit-com ‘’fashionista’’ will always come back to haunt and taunt me. Despite some meager attempts to distance myself from the aforementioned accessory, I do admit to owning some wonderfully playful pieces that I don every now and again when I’m feeling particularly feisty. I’m sometimes surprised by the sudden inkling to dig them out of my closet. But what really surprises me is the number of hats my daughter already owns! At eight months old, her wardrobe is replete with hats of every color and style. She has a beret, a bonnet handmade by my mom, a fuzzy owl hat (which I admit to having a matching adult version of), and, in honor of my past, several flowered hats reminiscent of my old ones. I should probably mention that the latter pieces were gifted to her by friends and family; perpetuating the trend wasn’t really on my radar. In fact, I initially shied away from having her dress in flowered hats at all, for obvious reasons. Ultimately, nostalgia reigned. Truthfully, she looks so darn cute in them I just can’t help myself! In a sense, Gray has renewed my appreciation for hats. That’s not to suggest I’m living vicariously through her; don’t go expecting me to unearth some secret “Six“ stash any time soon. But suffice it to say, I enjoy seeing her in them, so I’m vowing to refrain from transferring my aversion over to her. I mean, who doesn’t love a cherubic little baby in a hat? Which brings me to…
I’ve recently discovered that not everyone finds babies and hats to be compatible. “How is that possible?” you might ask. Well, evidently it’s the source of some contention for a few folks out there. Here’s an example. We were in Los Angeles a few months ago, and weren’t terribly fond of the hotel coffee. Early one morning, we went on an excursion to find a cup elsewhere. (I’m aware no one walks in LA, but we decided to defy the odds.) We walked to the nearest Starbucks, which was only a few blocks away. It was a slightly balmy morning, so I figured I ought to cover Gray’s head. I put her owl hat on (pictured above), and we set out on our caffeine quest. As we arrived at the café, I noticed two boys in their late twenties sitting outside. They were deep in what I imagine to have been a stunningly important and esoteric conversation. Insert eye rolling here. Anyhow, as we passed by, one of them looked up and said, “Poor kid. I’ve never understood the stupid people who put hats on their babies. They just look so ridiculous in them.” Really??? You’re going to say that in front of us? While I’m typically quick with the witty comebacks, this was not my finest hour. I wound up saying nothing and ignoring them. No sense in starting a 6 AM brawl in front of the coffee shop, right? Now, I understand that the owl hat may not be appreciated by each and every social group out there, but you have to admit that comment was downright rude. Of course, this statement was also coming from the dolt who was wearing a wool trench coat, scarf and gloves in sixty-degree California weather. It might have been breezy enough to cover a baby’s head, but no self-respecting adult would be bundled up for the Adirondacks. I digress. I’m just saying… Don’t hate the hat-wearer (or the parent thereof), hate the hat! On that note, I suppose I should cut myself a little slack and apply that to my Blossom hat phase as well. It may not make my list of favorite trends, but I should let myself off the hook for contributing to it. In the meantime, until my daughter is old enough to put silly hats on her own child’s head, I’m going to enjoy every moment of this!
Until next time… Peace, Love, & Dirty Diapers,
Jenna von Oy
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