The hat that is no more, alas. couple of weeks ago, I joyously posted about our visit to the S.F. Goorin Brothers hat store where my  haberdashery-shy hubby actually bought a hat. A newsboy cap. It looked great on him.

He wore it once on a drizzly day in S.F.. He brought it to NYC. He wore it the second time on a rainy Manhattan day enroute to a restaurant. He forgot it at said restaurant. We called them. They couldn’t find it. Hat gone. Husband hatless again.

The moral of this Aesop’s fable: You can’t make a zebra change its stripes and you can’t change a headless (er hatless) hubby.

I’m still wearing my 20 year old men’s fedora to keep my brains dry. But I give up on him.

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