Andrew J. Lederer

for a while i wore a gray, felt fedora, my long hair hanging from its back as if they were one unit, perhaps from a joke store. (ah, but that was another day.)

i'm more of a self-contained fashion icon now, except in the summer, when my insufficiently hirsute pate is subject to the ravages of old sol (the sun, not some rampaging jewish guy) and i find myself ever in search of a hat that will protect and suit (which is, i think, the motto of the los angeles police department).

it's like looking for the holy grail -- i never seem to find it and wonder if one even exists.

so, generally, i end up with a mr. magoo/woody allen-style, crumply "fishing" hat, which neither flatters nor diminishes too greatly my basic (non-)aesthetic.

or, sometimes, i wear nothing at all, leaving my scalp to the limited protective capacity of an inexpensive sunblock.

and that's how it was when i went to new jersey last sunday, draped in my (minimally) beard-appropriate clothes.

i had nothing but no-ad 15 on my skull.

luckily i spent a good deal of time in the garage, helping my father remove stuff from the attic in anticipation of a move. then, while we were looking in a closet, my father unexpectedly said, "you want your grandfather's hat?"

well, there ought to have been a heavenly chorus behind me.

it was the hat.

a recreational, older guy's hat from thirty years ago -- genuinely cool.

in perfect condition. looking like the hats on st. mark's place are trying to look.

i asked my father why he had saved it and he said he thought that i had told him to.

if so, i mystically set aside my own future salvation by doing so.

kinda makes you believe the universe is filled with hats more powerful than we can ever imagine.