Fascinators Are Fascinating

Let's talk Kentucky

Mrs. Bailey and I continue to plan our trip to Kentucky. And you know what that means. Yep. Hats.

And as a Colonel of the great Commonwealth of Kentucky, I decided that it would be best if I ordered a ball cap from the Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels, to wear while planning our upcoming visit.

So, I ordered a ball cap.

(Yep, I know, these damn little boy ball caps are really worming their way into my lifestyle now. I’m ashamed, but seem unable to resist their evil draw.)

The hat arrived this morning, and it is, for want of a better term, interesting.

Waxed canvas, which is awesome. I love waxed canvas.

(Although it is forecasted to be well over 90 degrees here today, and I’m sitting here wearing a completely unbreathable waxed canvas hat. I hope my mother never claimed to have raised a genius.)

The interesting bit is that it came distressed.

Sort of like the already worn out blue jeans that young people buy brand spankin’ new nowadays. A bit nuts in my certainly unhumble opinion.

It looks cool, but it looks like I’ve been wearing it while working on engines for the past few years.

I don’t think that Mrs. Bailey approves. I fear that it might disappear while I’m away someday soon. (Sort of like my awesome light orange dress shirt she kidnapped some years ago.)

Anyway, my temporary saving grace with Mrs. Bailey is that along with the hat, I ordered a cool horse racing bracelet for her, so that should keep me on her good side for a little while at least.

But, I fear that if I ever want to go out with her in public again, I’ll have to order another Colonel’s ball cap. One without the distressing.

Photo by J F on Unsplash

Anywho, I figure that all this little boy ball cap nonsense is OK, because I do have a really cool hat for Churchill Downs.

But you aren’t reading this to waste your time while I blather on about ball caps.

Nope. No way.

You are reading this to explore the fascinating world of fascinators!

So here we go!

You see, Mrs. Bailey doesn't believe in hats. As such, she doesn’t really own any hats. It is a truly sad state of affairs.

But, she’s got to have a hat for Churchill Downs!

Luckily for her, there seems to be a pretty large number of people in Louisville who make a living creating hats specifically for the races.

So, I’ve been exploring and learning.

The first thing I’ve learned is that there are actually two separate things in this fascinating world of women’s derby hats.

First, there are “Hats.” Now these “hats” seem to be roughly the size of our car. I rather think that Mrs. Bailey would look cool in a “hat” but I’m not sure how she would ever make it through a doorway while wearing one.

Then there are “Fascinators.” Now to my untrained eye I would say that a “hat” and a “fascinator” are the same damn thing, but apparently not when it comes to the races at Churchill Downs. In layman’s terms a “fascinator” is a little “hat.” But things must be kept in proper perspective here. By little race day “hat” I mean the biggest collection of straw and felt and feathers and doodads that one can possibly imagine.

So, I think Mrs. Bailey, as a non hat person, will probably end up with a “fascinator” and not a “hat” for our visit to Kentucky.

But as I’m looking at all these things, a question certainly came to mind.

So, you’ve got your head. Then you’ve got this big tall thing perched upon your head, at some impossible angle. How on earth do you possibly keep that thing on your head?

Most especially when you have to jump up and down while cheering for your horse after downing half a dozen Mint Juleps?

I mean, this is important stuff to know.

YouTube to the rescue.

I managed to learn.

So unlike men’s hats that one just pulls down over his head, allowing gravity and friction to do their work, these fascinators are fascinating!

They’ve got this whole scientifically engineered retention system built right in!

Straps, and clips, and bands, and pins.

You get up in the morning, do your hair, and then spend a goodly amount of time tying and clamping this thing onto your head. Me, I figure that a minute or two with a hot glue gun would be just as effective, but apparently such a fast solution is eschewed in favor of ropes, and pulleys, and nails.

I guess what that writer wrote is right: “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.”