My mother never wears them, at least not anymore. They were relics from her past life, a time before children and PTA meetings.
By the eighties, when I came around, the hat boxes were busy gathering dust. The only place I ever actually saw people wearing hats where in movies and old family photos.
When I first put on my mother's hats, it was dress up, pure and simple. I would pull each hat box down and try each one on for size. Floppy brims, derby hats, fascinators. I would stare at my transformed self in the mirror, then take them off and place them neatly back into their box.
It wasn't until I was a card carrying, mortgage paying adult that I started wearing hats in real life. I feel classy when I wear a hat. I feel transformed. Not into something I am not, but my authentic self.
It feels like every couple of years the pendulum swings on trends. Names popular a 100 years ago abruptly come back into fashion. People who had been rebelling against there parents, begin to idealize their grandparents generation. Maybe things are on the cusp of swinging back towards hats. Only time will tell.