Now this is a hat story.
There is nothing over remarkable about the hat opposite, which belonged to my father and long ago migrated north from London to Manchester, then sat in our cellar for decades gathering dust, until it ended up with our eldest, who wanted something of granddad’s.
All of which is natural enough and I bet many of us will have something similar whether it’s a pocket watch a ring or an old diary.
Ours just happens to be a hat although we do have the ring, the diary and plenty of other odd bits and pieces.
And when I post the story, my sisters will recognise the hat instantly because Dad always wore it, although he varied it with a beret.
But the beret was only for going to work while the hat was for trips to the High Street and further afield.
Likewise my granddad and his brother would never be seen without a flat cap when they were out and about.
I think all four of us will be hard pressed to remember a time when Dad didn’t wear something on his head when he left the house.
And that of course was because he was of that age when virtually all adults wore something whether it was a hat, a beret or a scarf in an unbroken chain stretching back into the past.
All of which was good news for towns like Denton and Stockport which thrived as centres for hat manufacture well into the last century and for those with an interest the hat museum in Stockport is an excellent place to learn about the trade.
But in the 1960s wearing a hat started dropping out of favour.
I don’t recall wearing one or ever wanting to do so and only briefly took to a hat after Dad died but always remained a tad self conscious about being out wearing one.
All of which means I suspect that mine is the generation that helped kill off the fashion and by extension contributed to the demise of a whole industry.
Economists will point to deeper reasons for the end of a centuries old business but I cannot escape a bit of the blame.
So I am pleased we still have dad’s hat, if only to remind me of him and a piece of clothing which has all but vanished.
I can’t be sure how old our hat is but I am guessing it must be at least from the 1960s, and was bought from G A Dunn.
Dunn’s were chain of men’s outfitters dating back to 1887 with shops across the country.
As well as hats it sold suits, shirts ties and jackets and trousers.
I chose Payn’s in the High Street rather than Dunn’s where I bought my first “sports jacket” in 1966, a Norfolk jacket the following year and a selection of those knitted ties which were the bee knees back in the ‘60s.
What has only struck me just now as I look at the hat, is the connection between me and Dad, because although I never wore a hat we shopped at similar places, although I doubt Dad would ever have gone into Harry Fenton’s almost opposite Payne’s which was the cutting edge of all things “mod”.
But the clothes from Payn’s and Dunn’s were designed to last and so long after I had discarded the ties and cuff links dad was known to have added them to his wardrobe.
Now long after the two jackets, the knitted ties, cuff links and shirts that I bought have been lost, we still have the hat.
It has been cleaned and brushed and looks very much like it did when dad wore it and now has pride of place amongst our Ben’s clothes.
But stories should always end where they began.
So, just after I had posted this story, our Elizabeth sent over another picture of Dad's hat.
I had quite forgotten this photograph of the hat, and my two sisters. With the the picture, Elizabeth added "Here is a picture of our Theresa wearing Dad's hat. Think she is not happy with me as I have the scooter and I think she wanted it".
Leaving aside the family squabble, what strikes me is that Dad allowed his hat to be used as a plaything, but, then judging by when the photograph was taken which looks to be summer, Dad would have been away and mother was always a little more casual about letting us play with "grown up" clothes.
And for those who want to know, it will be the summer of 1963, and we were in the garden of 26 Lausanne Road, in Peckham, before the move to Well Hall in Eltham.
Location; Eltham & Peckham
Picture; Dad’s hat, circa 1964, dad and “friend” circa 1930s, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, an advert for H C Payn, from This is Eltham, 1967, the sports coat, 1968 courtesy of Ann Hatch nee Davey and our Elizabeth and Theresa and Dad's hat, 1963, the Simpson Collection
 |
| That hat |
All of which is natural enough and I bet many of us will have something similar whether it’s a pocket watch a ring or an old diary.
Ours just happens to be a hat although we do have the ring, the diary and plenty of other odd bits and pieces.
And when I post the story, my sisters will recognise the hat instantly because Dad always wore it, although he varied it with a beret.
 |
| Dad, circa 1930s |
Likewise my granddad and his brother would never be seen without a flat cap when they were out and about.
I think all four of us will be hard pressed to remember a time when Dad didn’t wear something on his head when he left the house.
And that of course was because he was of that age when virtually all adults wore something whether it was a hat, a beret or a scarf in an unbroken chain stretching back into the past.
All of which was good news for towns like Denton and Stockport which thrived as centres for hat manufacture well into the last century and for those with an interest the hat museum in Stockport is an excellent place to learn about the trade.
But in the 1960s wearing a hat started dropping out of favour.
I don’t recall wearing one or ever wanting to do so and only briefly took to a hat after Dad died but always remained a tad self conscious about being out wearing one.
All of which means I suspect that mine is the generation that helped kill off the fashion and by extension contributed to the demise of a whole industry.
Economists will point to deeper reasons for the end of a centuries old business but I cannot escape a bit of the blame.
So I am pleased we still have dad’s hat, if only to remind me of him and a piece of clothing which has all but vanished.
 |
| Payn's the outfitters, 1960s |
Dunn’s were chain of men’s outfitters dating back to 1887 with shops across the country.
As well as hats it sold suits, shirts ties and jackets and trousers.
I chose Payn’s in the High Street rather than Dunn’s where I bought my first “sports jacket” in 1966, a Norfolk jacket the following year and a selection of those knitted ties which were the bee knees back in the ‘60s.
 |
| Me, the sports jacket and the two Ann's, 1968 |
But the clothes from Payn’s and Dunn’s were designed to last and so long after I had discarded the ties and cuff links dad was known to have added them to his wardrobe.
Now long after the two jackets, the knitted ties, cuff links and shirts that I bought have been lost, we still have the hat.
It has been cleaned and brushed and looks very much like it did when dad wore it and now has pride of place amongst our Ben’s clothes.
But stories should always end where they began.
So, just after I had posted this story, our Elizabeth sent over another picture of Dad's hat.
 |
| Other uses for Dad's hat, 1963 |
Leaving aside the family squabble, what strikes me is that Dad allowed his hat to be used as a plaything, but, then judging by when the photograph was taken which looks to be summer, Dad would have been away and mother was always a little more casual about letting us play with "grown up" clothes.
And for those who want to know, it will be the summer of 1963, and we were in the garden of 26 Lausanne Road, in Peckham, before the move to Well Hall in Eltham.
Location; Eltham & Peckham
Picture; Dad’s hat, circa 1964, dad and “friend” circa 1930s, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, an advert for H C Payn, from This is Eltham, 1967, the sports coat, 1968 courtesy of Ann Hatch nee Davey and our Elizabeth and Theresa and Dad's hat, 1963, the Simpson Collection
Sod the hat, it's the mini skirts that get my heart racing.
ReplyDeleteLove this story. My dad always wore a flat cap and they came in sizes which I always got wrong. Once I suggested size 8 and quarter inches to his horror, with no idea how heads were measured.
ReplyDeleteLove to see old photos where all the men wore hats.