Monday, October 31, 2011
Who's The Cat in The Hat?
It isn't Michael Jackson, It's me. The new hat I picked up last week is a Michael Jackson style. The difference is: his was felt and mine is black straw with a striped grosgrain band. I wear it tilted of course and pulled down over one eye. As stunning as it is, I still can't do the moonwalk to save my life.
I drew my new hat to use as a new header. (What else is a hat good for--especially on a blog that was started to fling me back into the fine art ring)? But I don't think this one has the same flourish as my fedora with the green feather. I'll probably change the drawing back in a few days when my mood swings. Hats are more than head-gear; they are an attitude. I have many.
This weekend I was leaning towards Scarlet O'Hara, the flirtatiousness vixen of Gone With the Wind. I did a quicky drawing of the floppy picture hat that has never seen a bar-b-que on the lawn at any southern plantation, much less the beach. But it would make a good header too.
Oddly enough, none of my hats have been out of the house. I always leave my attitude under my hat on the front hall table. It's best that way. The public doesn't need to know exactly who this cat is.