Chapeaux

One of my galpals texted me last week to tell me that she bought a new hat--a "John Mayer hat." Luckily I'm in tune with John Mayer's sartorial choices so I knew exactly what she was talking about, and the accompanying picture confirmed that the hat has the power to give its wearer an uncanny resemblance to John Mayer. My lack of milliner terminology leaves me at a loss for the hat's official name, but I've always referred to such hats as chapeaux. In my mind, all chapeaux are hats, but not all hats are chapeaux. Ya know?

I've wanted a hat of the chapeau variety since I watched Seven Years in Tibet on Netflix during one of my excruciatingly long winter breaks in college. I went through a pretty strange phase that year in which I only watched movies that starred a young Brad Pitt in picturesque settings doing outdoorsy things. There are only three of these movies, each of which is no less than 2.5 hours long. I watched them all, cried in them all, watched them again, and quoted them out of context with the off-chance that someone would know what I was talking about. Usually nobody did.

In Seven Years in Tibet, Brad Pitt plays an Austrian mountaineer who, instead of partaking in Nazi activities during World War II, went to Tibet to climb Mount Everest. The best part of the movie is in the first five minutes when the man who broke J. An's heart, wearing a flawless complexion and a chapeau, says in a brutal Austrian accent, "I vant to hike ze Him-ah-lie-ahns." After watching the movie, I tried to insert the quote in public situations, but when you're at a party and you say something like "I vant to hike ze Him-ah-lie-ahns," you remember why you're single. Ouch.

It's mah blog, I can say whuttiwant.

Go buy a chapeau so we can all channel John Mayer and/or Brad Pitt. C'est comme tu veux, beetchez!