A story about a hat

One day shy of Ascot and I still needed a hat. What I really needed/wanted was a cloche and not just any cloche; I needed an authentic, 1920's, black, velvet (if possible), cute as a button, cloche. I was not settling for any type of flower fascinator with a spray of feathers, I wanted a cloche and I wouldn’t rest until I found one.

With that, I set out to scourer the dark, grey streets of London town. I visited every thrift, charity, vintage, second hand shop and market in my beloved city, alas, none of the above was found. With one day left to find this elusive commodity, I had just about lost all hope when it finally appeared. There it was in all its glory, I had found it. A stones throw from my office, displayed in the window of a tiny little second hand shop was a black, authentic, 1920's cloche (not felt but beggars can't be chooser right?). I snatched it immediately from the window display (this stealth move is often frowned upon by shop assistants) and took it to the point of purchase.

After a little inspection, the shop owner, let's call her ‘Olga’, declared that "On second thoughts, accessories from the 1920's are extremely rare and I'm not quite sure I want to part with it (inspects condition once again, pauses for effect) actually it's not for sale at all". At this point, I swallowed slowly and became very still. All of a sudden I began to sweat and then panic slightly - "But you must sell it to me, I must have it, I must have that cloche, if I can't have it I will have to change my entire outfit again, head to toe, 24hours prior to the event, that can't happen to me, I don't have the time or the strength for that, you must help me!". I fear at this point the middle aged, eccentric shop owner, wearing a smokers coat and an embellished turban of sorts began to fear for her safety. I’m guessing she decided the best way to deal with this crazy consumer was to negotiate. Olga decided she would hire the cloche to me for a swift 10er if I left her a £50 deposit. Was I in a costume shop? I decided Olga would hire the cloche to me for a quiet 10er and I would leave her only a £20 deposit (I needed that extra 30quid for pimms and champagne). Priorities ladies.

I then left Olga and her smokers coat, super chuffed; believing I had some how won “The Great Battle Of The Cloche” and set off for a fabulous day at the races. Deluded, I tell you, deluded.