The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Way I Feel / Much Ado about NOTHING

Reluctant: I'm supposed to attend a Kentucky Derby Party tomorrow, of all things. I care nothing for horse racing, but I suppose it may be interesting to see how enthusiasts and displaced Southerners celebrate this two-minute event. I'm guessing that mint juleps will be involved. However, I am told I should wear a hat to this soiree. I thought derby-day hats were a female thing. I'm reluctant to wear one -- the only hat I normally wear is a ski cap in the winter, when gelid temperatures make it more or less essential. I always think that, in this day and age, a man can't wear a hat without making some kind of statement. ("I'm a baseball fan." "I think I'm cool." "I'm a cop/fireman." etc.) The only statement I wish to make via head covering is that I know it's cold outside. My wyfe is much more enthusiastic about this party requirement and is working on a creative concoction to wear atop her head. It will incorporate artificial fronds, I believe. She says I can wear the old bowler hat she purchased long ago in England, which may be just barely acceptable -- they are called "derbies" after all. I don't think they wear them in Kentucky, though.

Postscript: I found a vintage fedora with a feather in the hatband to wear instead. It looks like something a tacky guy would wear to Aqueduct. Perfect.

Postscript postscript (Saturday): Well, here's a surprise. I won the prize for "Most Dapper Man" at this big Derby party -- a bottle of Maker's Mark Kentucky bourbon, which they tell me goes for a lot of money on eBay. I wore a spring sports jacket, white chinos and a madras tie (nothing all that special, I didn't think) and the fedora, which made it, I guess. And there was a guy in tails there, too, who would have fit in at Ascot. But I guess I looked more like somebody you might actually see at the Kentucky Derby. My wyfe won for having the most creative hat. Strange days indeed....