1998 this song was released, 19-flipping-98. Still a belter but golly, are we all getting old. And please, don’t come back to me saying you have no memory of this track or, worse, you weren’t even alive then. I-I just can’t.
After the questionable success of my previous post, My Sister, On…, here is the “me” version of that. Don’t worry if you haven’t read said post, you’ll get the hang of this very quickly.
Alice, on…Responsible drinking
Alice, On…Effective conflict resolution
(For context – I picked a fight with a pavement.)
Alice, On…Tropicana on a budget
Alice, On…Workplace integration
Alice, On…Open bars
Alice, On…Bathroom fittings
“Alice, why are you taking so long to rub the sun cream in?”
“Well then, can I get up?”
“DON’T YOU DARE GET UP YET!!”
Alice, On…”Does my bum look out-of-proportionately big in this?”
Alice, On…Any kind of headwear
And finally (for now), Alice, On…Basic photographyskills
Oh, trust me, you’re welcome
Please support unpaid writers, like me, by donating to my funding page:
I’m going to start this piece with some of top notch fashion advise from Patsy Stone:
…And Stewie Griffin’s shopping habits:
Warning: this post contains images and frank talk of hats. If you are of a delicate disposition, are allergic to, or in any way do not like the topic of hats please leave now. Go into another room, sit and think hard about your issues, wear a hat constantly for a week, learn to love them and then come back to this post. No, there is no middle ground, you either really like hats or you love them. End of.
So yeah, I kinda like hats. They make me feel like this:
Those linked to me on social media will know that recently I declared the official start of hat season with this photo of me in a Costa Coffee shop:
Hat season does not have an official beginning nor end, there’s no set date for it (a lot like Easter and The X Factor). It’s really linked to weather patterns and air temperatures, which in the UK means you could almost wear a hat at any stage of the year. In 2013 I caused a stir when I inadvertently declared the start of hat season on the hottest day of the year:
However on the whole it lasts from around mid-September through to late March (if you’re still unsure ask yourself, “is it Summer?” if the answer is “no”, “not sure” or “I haven’t seen daylight in five weeks, how should I know?” then the answer is yes, yes it is hat season).
Because there is no set start and end date for this period, one set day a year people rejoice in the glory of the hat. The 5th December is this day (and what a coincidence, it also happens to be my birthday!) On this day everyone should be forced encouraged to wear a hat like my office colleagues:
But of course that shouldn’t limit one to only wearing a hat in the office one day a year…
I like to think myself a very open and liberal individual. I know some people get very funny about what does or doesn’t constitute as a ‘hat’ (it’s like the whole tomato fruit vs. vegetable debate) but if it covers the top of your head it counts as a hat.
There are some grey areas to this theory. E.g. this counts as a ‘hat of sorts’…
…Because a) it’s a slefie/deliberately taken that way photo and b) I was about 14/15 years old when I took it (i.e. I was trying to look cool.)
This though does not count as a ‘hat of sorts’…
…Because a) it was a cold day and a coat was needed b) it’s a laid back photo taken with friends and c) when I didn’t have my hood up this happened:
(I.e. the hood had a practical, not a fashion, purpose.)
Starting to get the hang of this?
So, based on these simple rules, here are some ways you can look glamorous in hats. I’m aware that I am a female (I know, what a shocker!) but humans of the male variety will quickly get the gist of this. There is no excuse why my fashion tips can’t be applied to any age and gender.
Animal Hats are always in
I mean, you can look so deep in thought and philosophical in a penguin hat
And so mysterious
(Who is that girl? What is she thinking? Does she have a second eye?)
“Quick! There’s a wolf over here eating someone!…
Oh wait, my mistake, it’s actually someone wearing a fabulous Wolf hat.”
Hosting a charity fundraising event? Better get a Moose/Reindeer hat on then.
On the Continent
You can wear a beret in Paris, France (bonus points for wearing it to be classy, not ironic or stereotypical)
Or in Cyrpus, Greece…
Rome (Italy)? Yeah, that works too
“Does wearing one as part of a Eurovision party count?”
“Is alcohol present?”
“Sure, I’ll take that as a foreign place”
Where a hat is not permitted, a mask will meet the requirements of a hat, e.g. a formal night out
Posting a Christmas wish list in the North Pole Postbox in Southampton’s Disney Store
You know, the big events in life.
There is always an excuse to wear fashionable head wear during hat season. I mean, if you can’t sit on a large ball of snow with two tennis rackets and a hat when can you?
And you can dress up with them at many historical sites nowadays…
You could say it’s a HATucation! Here all week.
If you need a stronger reason to start wearing hats then all you need to do is turn to the old favourite, the high street. You can buy this card in Clintons:
I mean they’re cats! In hats! CATS IN HATS!! CATS IN FLIPPIN’ ANIMAL HATS!!!!
How do I know this? Because this is the birthday card I’m giving to my lil bub sister for her upcoming birthday (India, just so you know I’m typing this post on Thursday but will have to wait until Sunday before I can upload it because I’m including this image. That’s how much I love you. Think about it. Many siblings would kill for a sister who holds off posting something just for them. Remember this before you start analysing the physical presents I’ve given you.)
Happy birthday sis.
“Hey Alice, you look just like that weird guy from that awful Scottish comedy. The one about mountains.”
“Hmm yeah, thanks.”
“Isn’t that the hat worn by the guy on Mountain Goats Alice?”
“Well this hat has been a poor investment.”
From some of the comments I’m making in this post it may be no surprise to you that sometimes I get a little bit too excited with hats…
At times like these I have to remind myself that I didn’t always have hats. There was a dark period when I didn’t know of their existence. In those days I only had my wits and mini umbrellas to go on. They were the BH (Before Hat) years…
And this thought mellows me out a little bit.
(Because ultimately I’m still wearing a hat, that’s pretty dam good whichever way you look at it)
So, what I’m trying to say is that hats come in all shapes and sizes and there’s no excuse not to wear one, no matter what the occasion or mood is. After all, if you can buy a pink cat hat (CAT HAT!!)…
…then you can buy/wear almost anything. Where hats are concerned there is no judgement here. To be honest I’d be more insulted if you told me you weren’t wearing a hat right now.
Hat season has begun. Now go forth dear readers and do the hat industry proud.
I was deciding whether to eat rice or pasta this evening (age old dilemma) when I realised that I hadn’t posted anything for a while. So here I am, PJs on, Big Bang Theory on in the background, typing away. Not adventurous, but it was going to be Black Mirror. You’ll be grateful when this post takes a happy tangent as opposed to a dystopian approach where the future is bleak and young people turn into mindless zombies on Instragram. Oh wait…
(FYI, I don’t want this blog to turn into ‘what the office-worker did today at her desk’ or ‘how many cups of tea can Alice drink in a day without overdosing on caffeine’. There are places on the internet that will answer both.)
So, as I recall I left my last post with me getting a job. I’m now 4.5 months through a nine month contract (if not already made obvious, I was hired as maternity cover) and on the whole life is pretty good. There have been ups and downs but name a job that doesn’t have them. All downs and you’re in the wrong job, all ups and something isn’t right (you only need to watch Wolf of Wall Street to know that). Downs include dealing with a new computer system, but ups include my birthday last week. I made cupcakes for the team, and my line manager declared it was ‘wear a hat to work day’ to celebrate my extensive hat collection. Cue team selfie with those in the office…
(Given it was 8:15 in the morning I think we look rather merry. My birthday has that effect on people).
Slight downs, massive ups. Swings and roundabouts. Tea and, urm, cold tea. But without the downs you never fully enjoy the highs. If we wore hats to work and celebrated my birthday everyday life would be rather dull. I’d also be spending a all my time and money baking constantly (don’t give my colleagues ideas).
Don’t assume from that photo that life is all wine and mince pies. Ok, it is bit of that thanks to the food and drink buyer who sits opposite me, but still, life can be tough. While our book buyer has been seconded I’m flicking between handling publishers, new ranges and product reviews alongside tasks set out in my job title dealing with administration, invoices and orders. Depending on how things pan out the two jobs can either create a wonderful Mary Berry-esk trifle, nicely layered, varied, and something you want to want to dive into, or like the one time I attempted to make a fruit loaf. Solid, overcooked and, as a result, can badly bruise one’s foot when dropped (my family dubbed my creation ‘the brick’). Whichever way, both take work and devotion. Some days I get trifle, other days I get brick loaf. So far I’m eating more jelly than carbon so I must be doing something right.
Here seems a good point to stop for now. And as if by magic, I switch over and Master Chef is on my TV (don’t worry, I promise you it won’t stay that way for long). I hope this post has given a little bit more of an insight into what I’m doing in my tangent filled, round about way. My next post will either be about my housemates or linked to the Jack Wills Christmas catalogue (flicking through it is quite an interesting insight into the world of the middle-class hipster.) Now, time to turn off Master Chef and get to work on a true example of a culinary masterpiece, aka…
(Ps, the holey shoes are now dead, but they still live under my bed. Since the Freeview advert with the singing toys I like to think they belt out classic ballads when I’m at work. Who am I to stop them doing their dayjob? #BonnieBoot
Pps, it’s also because they’re moved to the darkest reaches of the ‘under the bed’ space and I’m too lazy to fish them out, but pretend you didn’t read that…)