Fedora-bashing befuddles me. For, I say, it is not terribly uncommon to spot said glorious hat of hats perched upon my own head. And, if I might indulge myself for a moment, popular opinion assures me that I’m a delight to be around. And yet, this splendid addition to my wardrobe has come under the most unforgiving of fire from the community at large, and I find myself gobsmacked and utterly bewildered.
Be there herds of oafish, ignorant, blathering imbeciles roaming the world, fedoras in tow, behaving boorishly and thereby besmirching the image of this stylish and otherwise acceptable accessory? Curse them, I say! For they are bringing slander upon that which I place upon my noggin in the most stylish of manners! Their regrettable reputation rains upon my parade in showers most acidic…
'Tis not the fedora that behaves poorly. 'Tis the person beneath the brim who brings about your misfortune! Blame not the fedora, for it did not ask to be worn by those who would bring about hardship to what could have been, and should have been, an enjoyable day filled with merriment for all. Blame not the fedora, as one who hears a horrendous musical recital does not place blame upon the instrument. Rather, the fault lies with the performer who is in dire need of practice. Blame not the fedora.
Blame not the hat.