Quotes About Hats

On my early trips to London and Paris, in 2009, I started to shift to more wide-brimmed felt hats similar to Borsalinos and Stetsons.

These women took one look at these hats and put them right on their newly sprayed and lacquered heads. They didn't care what happened to their hairdos.

What I love most about Her Majesty is that she has kept hats alive in people's minds for more than 60 years. You can't think of her without imagining her with a hat or a crown. I would, of course, love to design one for her.

My style is cinematic; it is a touch of French woman of the '60s and American hippie with a Brooklyn edge. I love wearing wide-brim hats, newsboy caps, mini dresses and sheer blouses with details.

I sometimes wish they would swagger more now, buy bigger overcoats and wilder hats, and retain those traces of make-up that put them outside respectability and keep them rogues and vagabonds, which is what, at heart - bless 'em - they are.

You can literally walk into my apartment and sit on a hat; you can step on a hat; you can probably open up the refrigerator and find a hat tucked under some rotten food. I have a lot of hats.

The Texas thing is such a big deal because whenever I see Texas in a TV show, they always show slow-moving cattle and cowboys with the hats. I wanted to show that Texas isn't a stereotype.

A politician should have three hats. One for throwing into the ring, one for talking through, and one for pulling rabbits out of if elected.

All the men were driving home from work, wearing railroad hats, baseball hats, all kinds of hats, just like after work in any town anywhere.

The classic hat image was during the Forties and Fifties, and Elizabeth Taylor was the epitome of that; she was the ultimate celebrity of excess and glamour, and she worked major sun hats.

Patched-together or hard-won coverings of positivity flew away with ridiculous suddenness, like hats, or else gradually and unceremoniously, over days, like paint.

I remember spending time in Stratford growing up with all that company running round and putting on silly hats and just having fun all the time.

For no matter what the world, men who deal in headwear are men to be trusted above any other.

I see my self-identity in the same way I see most things: a list, in greatest to least importance. I've found I can't use the multitude of hats analogy or some kind of flow chart where circles are connected by lines and entwined in Venn diagrams. I need a list. I need a top shelf.

Magnus gazed dreamily in his direction. "You should leave him here. I could hang hats on him and things.

We would report the exact details of her letter to her modiste, but we fear you would be overcome. Suffice to say, the money outlaid upon hats rivals the annual income of a large estate or small country; We fail to see why one small woman needs so many hats. She is unlikely to be concealing additional heads upon her person.

He's a cousin of some friends of the Lightwoods or something. He's nice. I promise." "Nice, bah. He's gorgeous." Magnus gazed dreamily in his direction. "You should leave him here. I could hang hats on him and things." "No. You can't have him." "Why not? Do you like him?" Magnus's eyes gleamed. "He seems to like you. I saw him going for your hand out there like a squirrel diving for a peanut.

Folk dress in all manner of finery and wonderful hats to go and watch the races, but only if it's horses doing the barreling that day. This, at least, is understandable, for horses, in secret, love hats more than any other creature. It is a horse's tragedy that they can never properly wear one.

Hats change everything. September knew this with all her being, deep in the place where she knew her own name, that her mother would still love her even though she hadn't waved good-bye. For one day, her father had put on a hat with golden things on it and suddenly he hadn't been her father anymore, he had been a soldier, and he had left. Hats have power. Hats can change you into someone else.

horses, in secret, love hats more than any other creature. It is a horse's tragedy that they can never properly wear one.

I kept buying bucket hats. Next thing I knew, I felt like I didn't look right without one.

I remember in the early nineties people saying the hat was just for old women, but that's ridiculous.

Hats look exactly the same. There's no difference between The Writing Hat and The Acting Hat.

She led the way in, long strides on long legs that had Iona quickening her pace to keep up. Iona saw a room off to the side, jumbled and crowded with riding hats, leg protectors, some boots. A lean tabby sidled out, gave Iona a look as measuring as Meara's had been, then strolled outside.