hat revival

If there is one thing missing in our generation's wardrobe of necessities, it is The Elegant Hat. I took it upon myself to remedy this problem. Or that was the post-purchase plan, in any case. My family, along with my grandparents, took a pleasure trip to Quebec City, a cute tourist destination sporting all sorts of faux European and real French Canadian sights. The quaint but not-so-small harbour, the rain spattering on the cobbled streets, the cute French waiters, the gelato, the bakeries, the horrendously pricey clothing, the rolling green fields, sweet little cottages, and the local farmers' market, combined, was an altogether delightful experience. One of the highlights involved dropping in at a hat shop, completely genuine with hats spilling off the shelves and everything. And, to top it all of, the owners were also the chief hatmakers. As soon as I saw this hat, it reminded me of a burlap sack, and because I take to the poetic value of birds but not their poop or worm-eating habits, I decided the feather simply sealed the deal.
Since then, I wear it when I feel the need to be Really Me, although, it is probably closer to the feeling that I Wish I Were Her, that untouchable woman of the 1930s.

To conclude, it is only fitting that I drink tea from an Elegant Teapot while wearing my Elegant Hat, and so, to let you imagine yourself in my position, I have provided a picture of my math homework in the kitchen by the blossoms in a bottle and the aforementioned object.