The Allure of Vintage Straw Hats
Today, not everyone
knows the pleasures of a straw hat. So few actually wear hats these days.
But this simple accessory has a long, cherished history. Though more heavy,
showy fur and felt hats have preoccupied much of millinery
history—suffocated with gaudy jewels, drooping plumes, immense silk flowers,
and primary–colored fruits—only the straw hat holds steadfast in the hearts
of its wearers. Originally used as strictly functional articles to shield
wearer’s from the blazing sun, straw hats first appeared in Classical
Europe. The Ancient Greeks especially favored their wide–brimmed versions,
called petasos. Some were oddly cone–shaped, but most were exactly
the sort of wide–brims favored today. Worn throughout the summer, Greeks
wore their petasos constantly, allowing them to hang down their backs
by a neck string even when they came indoors.
Some form of the petasos continued
finding an audience, whether it be the brimless Egyptian cone pilos,
the Boeotian styles seen on Tanagra statuettes, or the dark, swashbuckling
plumed hats of the 17th century Europe. Even Napoleon’s summer chapeau bras
were constructed of black–stained straw.
Unfortunately for women, the comforts and
pleasures of straw hats were largely unknown to the fashionable, fair sex
until the 18th century, when fashion finally decreed it acceptable for
Western women to wear something more than a bonnet or a flimsy cotton cap
covering only their crown. It was none other than the straw hat that became
woman’s first hat, and the “Shepherdess” hat of the mid–1700s quickly became
the hallmark of American women’s dress. Rusticity was a new vogue, placing
the flat–crowned, wide, and flexible brimmed hat to a well–deserved
pedestal. When women’s coiffures began to over–whelm demure
“Shepherdess” hats, hat styles evolved into tiny, minuscule–brimmed
concoctions—also of straw. And when Marie Antoinette commissioned a portrait
of herself in the 1780s, what style hat did she choose to wear? Straw, with
its wide brim tipped up saucily to one side.
While the Byronic man chose tri– and
bi–corns, frequently straying away from straw in favor of more bold felts
and furs, ladies did not betray straw, favoring flat discs folded over their
ears and held in place with a wide silk ribbon. Top hats invaded men’s heads
in the 19th century—a formal, stiff style most contrary to straw—but women
still persisted wearing straw bonnets, sometimes lavishly trimmed with
feathers, but often kept in a pure, simple state. The familiar poke bonnet
was next fashioned from straw—copied after the originals made up of fabric
and wooden slats. The “Beehive,” shaped like an ancient warrior’s helmet,
lasted only the first few decades of the century, but the “Gipsy,” with its
wide, floppy brim, was a cherished style from the beginning of the 19th
century through the 1870s. The pinnacle of wide, floppy hats was the Civil
War. (Who among those who’ve relished in the 1939 classic Gone With The
Wind can forget Scarlet O’Hara’s romantic, wide–brimmed straw hats?
Certainly not the fashion–starved women of the 1930s and 40s, who promptly
adopted modern versions of the style named after the fictional heroine.)
By the mid–19th century, beauty books and
magazines everywhere were touting the glory of the straw hat. One palm–sized
volume written by Countess Lola Montez in the 1860s chided women who still
ignored the straw hat. “The habit some ladies have of going into the open
air without a straw,” she wrote, “is a ruinous one for the skin.”
The humble sublimity of the straw hat swept
with all its glory through the 1890s—1920s. The boater (so called because it
originally topped off the striped blazer and flannel trouser outfit worn by
young men while rowing) developed into the universal style for both men and
women. American men wore the boater with a modest brim, slightly tilted on
the head in a cocky mode, embellished only with a wide, striped grosgrain or
silk hatband. The Gibson Girl often snatched this exact style from her
husband’s, father’s, or brother’s closet, though occasionally she feminized
it with the addition of a silk rosette or a single, arrow–shaped feather.
The male populous clung to their simple, comfortable boaters, while women
gradually developed a taste for extremely wide–brimmed straw hats that could
extend past their lace–trimmed shoulders. Those who felt this style
overwhelming essentially scrunched up their wide–brimmed hats, making the
brims point straight into the air, the sides and top trimmed with obligatory
faux flowers. Later, in the early 1920s, women who didn’t dare bob their
crowns of glory wore straw hats with wide brims turned up to one side. But
even flappers who rejecting anything remotely “old hat” (from long skirts to
corsets), literally clung to skullcap–like straw cloches that hugged their
heads relentlessly. Though straw hat styles lingered insecurely into the
1930s and 40s, as hats in general began shrinking into that world called
passé, so did America’s favorite straw hat—now often treated to be
brightly–colored and artificially glossy.
When it comes to collecting straw hats, you
will quickly discover time often ravages these little beauties. Straw
is—naturally—less sturdy than, say, felt (which can be crushed and trampled
on and still be steamed back into place as if it were nearly new). When it
comes to early 19th century (or older) hats, damage is expected and entirely
acceptable. By the 1860s, however, condition should be nearly perfect, and
by the 1920s, only the pristine is generally considered acceptable. It’s
advisable to avoid wearing old straws unless they are very sturdy and not
brittle. (Brittleness, by the way, is a good way to judge if an old straw is
really old or if it’s a reproduction; most straw hats from the 19th century
will be at least a little brittle.) If the crown is huge, you can stuff it
in order to make it fit. (In fact, many turn of the century hats, from an
age when women used hairpieces, were designed to be padded so that they were
adjustable for various hairstyles; look for a little pocket around the
crown.)
Straw should be vacuumed clean (use a hand
held vac with its head covered with cheesecloth) if necessary, and never
wetted. A soft sable brush (available at art and craft supply stores) may be
used occasionally to keep dust off hats that are worn or on display. 19th
and early 20th century hats may have lost their stiff finish, but it is not
advisable to re–shellac them if you want them to have any value as a
collectible.
Storage is mostly a matter of common sense. The most important thing is to
use good hat boxes; the best of these are the new sort sold today at
accessory shops; they are made of heavy, stiff cardboard (with beautiful
decorative papers covering them), and are nearly impossible to crush. Stuff
each hat’s crown with a little tissue paper, and, if it’s necessary to place
more than one hat in a box, put the heaviest on the bottom, the lightest on
the top. If the straws are trimmed with feathers, moth repellant is a
necessary additional to each hat box (the herbal kind, unlike the
old–fashioned pungent kind, is not unpleasant–smelling and is available at
almost any drug store).
As a resurgence of things past sweeps
through America, the straw hat is making a graceful comeback. No longer just
a favorite of the fashion collector, straw hats are appearing as props for
home decorators, and as flattering, practical, and romantic apparel for
women. The straw hat, as unassuming as the grain its made from, refuses to
die. What keeps America’s love affair with the straw hat unremitting?
Godey’s Lady’s Book printed these comments early in the 19th century:
“The straw hat composes the wildest...A vulgar person never puts on a straw
hat. The genuine straw hat stamps the genuine American—no other country can
produce either the hat or the wearer.”
(c) Copyright 2000 by Kristina Harris.
04/21/2006