There were informal hats, too…the first deerstalkers and a velvet cap, the Glengarry, and romantic,
dark felts with drooping brims, worn by the Pre-Raphaelities, revolutionaries, and Franz Liszt, who
almost got himself arrested when he appeared in New York in one in 1851. Straw hats, first seen at
the seaside in the 1850s, developed into the boater, a rage of the nineties, There were also exotic
acquisitions from tropics: the Panama and the ‘helmet’ hat, based on the Indian sola topi.
The most significant development came about because an Alpine style briefly fashionable with
wemen took the fancy of the future Edward VII during sojourns in Homburg, a south German spa.
What became know as the homburg was a stiff felt has with tapered, dented crown and a curved
brim. The same shape in softer felt became the Trilby, named after a hat worn by Beerbohm Tree in
the George du Maurier play of that name. The Fedorah, with roll-brimmed centre crease from front to
back of a lower crown, was named after another play, staged in 1882,
The 20th century, dramatic in every other way, produced no new style of enduring popularity.
Homburg, trilby and bowler were all worn with the new lounge suit, though not the top hat, which
began its retreat to the rear of the wardrobe. In summer, boaters were worn with suits, or expensive
panamas by those who could afford them.
For the 1920s onward, the hat trade’s efforts were bound up in combating a growing tendency to go
bare-headed. The solution was thought to lie in lightening the burden, and the result was a lighter,
more resilient, easier-to-wear version of the trilby, known as the ‘snap-brim’. Nattily turned down at
the front and up at the back, the brim could be adjusted to personal taste. From the young Prince of
Wales to the American gangster (who wore theirs with the brim effect much exaggerated), most men
wore variations of this hat in the inter-war years.
The Prince also popularized a Tyrolean style in green with jaunty feather trim and a full-crown, almost
floppy tweed cap that was in mocking contrast to the simple cloth cap that had become identified with
working-class politics.
Following the Second World War, the hat industry clubbed together to promote the catchy slogan, “If
you want to get ahead, get a hat”, and launched a trimmed flat tweed cap and a trimmer trilby with
narrowed brim and lower crown, but one no longer needed to wear a hat to look respectable, and
fewer and fewer wore one for any reason at all.
dark felts with drooping brims, worn by the Pre-Raphaelities, revolutionaries, and Franz Liszt, who
almost got himself arrested when he appeared in New York in one in 1851. Straw hats, first seen at
the seaside in the 1850s, developed into the boater, a rage of the nineties, There were also exotic
acquisitions from tropics: the Panama and the ‘helmet’ hat, based on the Indian sola topi.
The most significant development came about because an Alpine style briefly fashionable with
wemen took the fancy of the future Edward VII during sojourns in Homburg, a south German spa.
What became know as the homburg was a stiff felt has with tapered, dented crown and a curved
brim. The same shape in softer felt became the Trilby, named after a hat worn by Beerbohm Tree in
the George du Maurier play of that name. The Fedorah, with roll-brimmed centre crease from front to
back of a lower crown, was named after another play, staged in 1882,
The 20th century, dramatic in every other way, produced no new style of enduring popularity.
Homburg, trilby and bowler were all worn with the new lounge suit, though not the top hat, which
began its retreat to the rear of the wardrobe. In summer, boaters were worn with suits, or expensive
panamas by those who could afford them.
For the 1920s onward, the hat trade’s efforts were bound up in combating a growing tendency to go
bare-headed. The solution was thought to lie in lightening the burden, and the result was a lighter,
more resilient, easier-to-wear version of the trilby, known as the ‘snap-brim’. Nattily turned down at
the front and up at the back, the brim could be adjusted to personal taste. From the young Prince of
Wales to the American gangster (who wore theirs with the brim effect much exaggerated), most men
wore variations of this hat in the inter-war years.
The Prince also popularized a Tyrolean style in green with jaunty feather trim and a full-crown, almost
floppy tweed cap that was in mocking contrast to the simple cloth cap that had become identified with
working-class politics.
Following the Second World War, the hat industry clubbed together to promote the catchy slogan, “If
you want to get ahead, get a hat”, and launched a trimmed flat tweed cap and a trimmer trilby with
narrowed brim and lower crown, but one no longer needed to wear a hat to look respectable, and
fewer and fewer wore one for any reason at all.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
How to dress like a gentleman- A guide on the history of the gentleman's hat - dress like a true gent.
HATS
HISTORY
The hat is the most powerful item of clothing. It is the tool of transformation, the weapon of authority,
the badge of ceremony. No uniform is complete without a hat, and this goes for the uniform of the
gentleman.
Despite this, the hat disappeared from most wardrobes somewhere between the 1950s and 1960s,
when it occurred to all manner of man that there was something liberating and democratic about
going bare-headed. This was an extraordinary turn of events, when one reflects upon the hat’s
importance throughout history. In the 17th century, gentlemen even wore their hats indoors
(including at meal times), and through the first half of the 20th century it was improper to go out
without one.
The story of the hat begins as the story of felt. The patron saint of hatters is St Clement, who put
wool in his sandals to relieve his blisters and discovered at the end of his journey that the
perspiration and pressure from walking had turned the wool into a layer of felt.
The good saint notwithstanding, it is likely that early people discovered the felting process even
before they learned how to spin or weave. Wool is still used, but the early hat industry was built
upon a lighter, stronger felt made from beaver fur. This was bad news for the beaver, which was
driven close to extinction in Europe by the time that North American supplies became available, only
to become the cause of war between the French and English.
This brings us to the 18th century and the heyday of the three-cornered hat, now about to lose
favour to a conical hat of country origin. Horsemen found the stiff round crown of the new hat
provided some protection in the case of a fall, and as the crown was raised higher and higher,
something about it appealed to gentlemen’s sense of dignity.
We read in The Times how a Charing Cross hatter named John Heatherington appeared in the
Strand on 15 January 1797 “in what he called a silk hat, a tall structure having a shiny luster and
calculated to frighten timid people”. The spectacle drew such a crowd that ladies fainted, dogs
barked, horses shied, and somebody broke an arm. Heatherington was fined 50 pounds for
disturbing the peace. Enter the top hat.
In the course of the next 50 years, the top hat became ubiquitous. Not only the gentry, but
schoolmasters, policemen, train drivers, and sometimes even shepherds in smocks were wearing
‘stove pipes’ and ‘chimney pots’ by the mid-1800s.
In 1850, Norfolk landowner William Coke commissioned James Lock, the venerable London hatter,
to devise something rugged for his gamekeepers, whose toppers kept getting knocked of when they
were chasing poachers. Lock’s adapted one of their own 18th-century riding hats and had the
prototype made up by a Southwark feltmaker named Bowler.
The result was a snug-fitting crash helmet owing much to advances in felt-making machinery and to
the conformateur, a French invention resembling an implement of torture, which when applied to a
customer’s head accurately recorded the dimensions. By the 1860s, this new kind of hat was widely
fashionable as the ‘bowler’.
HISTORY
The hat is the most powerful item of clothing. It is the tool of transformation, the weapon of authority,
the badge of ceremony. No uniform is complete without a hat, and this goes for the uniform of the
gentleman.
Despite this, the hat disappeared from most wardrobes somewhere between the 1950s and 1960s,
when it occurred to all manner of man that there was something liberating and democratic about
going bare-headed. This was an extraordinary turn of events, when one reflects upon the hat’s
importance throughout history. In the 17th century, gentlemen even wore their hats indoors
(including at meal times), and through the first half of the 20th century it was improper to go out
without one.
The story of the hat begins as the story of felt. The patron saint of hatters is St Clement, who put
wool in his sandals to relieve his blisters and discovered at the end of his journey that the
perspiration and pressure from walking had turned the wool into a layer of felt.
The good saint notwithstanding, it is likely that early people discovered the felting process even
before they learned how to spin or weave. Wool is still used, but the early hat industry was built
upon a lighter, stronger felt made from beaver fur. This was bad news for the beaver, which was
driven close to extinction in Europe by the time that North American supplies became available, only
to become the cause of war between the French and English.
This brings us to the 18th century and the heyday of the three-cornered hat, now about to lose
favour to a conical hat of country origin. Horsemen found the stiff round crown of the new hat
provided some protection in the case of a fall, and as the crown was raised higher and higher,
something about it appealed to gentlemen’s sense of dignity.
We read in The Times how a Charing Cross hatter named John Heatherington appeared in the
Strand on 15 January 1797 “in what he called a silk hat, a tall structure having a shiny luster and
calculated to frighten timid people”. The spectacle drew such a crowd that ladies fainted, dogs
barked, horses shied, and somebody broke an arm. Heatherington was fined 50 pounds for
disturbing the peace. Enter the top hat.
In the course of the next 50 years, the top hat became ubiquitous. Not only the gentry, but
schoolmasters, policemen, train drivers, and sometimes even shepherds in smocks were wearing
‘stove pipes’ and ‘chimney pots’ by the mid-1800s.
In 1850, Norfolk landowner William Coke commissioned James Lock, the venerable London hatter,
to devise something rugged for his gamekeepers, whose toppers kept getting knocked of when they
were chasing poachers. Lock’s adapted one of their own 18th-century riding hats and had the
prototype made up by a Southwark feltmaker named Bowler.
The result was a snug-fitting crash helmet owing much to advances in felt-making machinery and to
the conformateur, a French invention resembling an implement of torture, which when applied to a
customer’s head accurately recorded the dimensions. By the 1860s, this new kind of hat was widely
fashionable as the ‘bowler’.
 |
| |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| If you have any reservations don't hesitate to contact us via email or telephone. © 2001-2008 Don's Footwear Online. All rights reserved. Elevator shoes can increase your height Return Policy Security Contact Us Elevator shoes |
