Last week I posted a Note…
Thank you for the votes, thoughts, and encouragement. By my count, the votes were suitcase (6), hat (4), bowl (2), desk (2). I sat down in the wee hours with a suitcase in mind, wrestled with it for a good while, and then pivoted into a story very much about hats instead. A happy accident, I think. Here’s what I’ve come up with. I’m not yet sharing this as a newsletter (it’s still a first draft), but if it happens to cross your feed before Wednesday, I’d really appreciate any thoughts you have. I’ve genuinely no idea what the library group is like, so fingers crossed it lands.
P.S. I also used a lot of Substack-recommended music while writing this thing. Thanks for that too, it definitely influenced this piece.
Under Your Cap
Phillip’s favourite thing about his wife’s new hat was its stature. It started from the back of her neck and rose twelve inches above her forehead to what one might expect to be its pinnacle, then contracted into a second tier, and rose another six inches beyond that. Its towering architecture required her to contort down low into the passenger seat as they drove. Her seatbelt sat uncomfortably high as she swiped around on her phone.
“Temperature is nice,” she said.
Phillip nodded. The snug strap of his own hat restricted his motion.
“But wind gusts are up to 60km by sunset...” His wife, Sadie, tsked.
“Cripes,” Phillip worried. “It’ll be even worse by the bluffs...” His jaw clenched against the strap, and he sped up without realizing it.
As they arrived at the parking lot, Phillip could see the party setup from the car–a beautifully arranged autumn scene overlooking the bluffs. One long table with a stark white runner rustled gently in the not-yet-worrisome breeze. A group of their closest friends milled about on the manicured grounds between the outdoor dining area and an opulent clubhouse. Guests rotated around one another carefully, like ships avoiding collision. The few who did embrace directly did so at carefully opposed angles, avoiding any unnecessary jostling. Music played from an outdoor speaker system, but it was silently and unanimously decided that no one would be dancing.
“Bold crown height,” someone said to Sadie as she and Phillip joined the gathering.
“Thank you. Imported felt.”
“Looks very secure,” another guest added, adjusting their own straps guardedly.
Daniella, the cause for the celebration, appeared from the clubhouse with a flourish. Already, she was a few glasses of wine deep and was leaning into being the center of attention. Phillip tensed as he watched her narrowly miss the head jamb of the clubhouse’s low doorway.
“My lovelies! Oh, and look at all these luscious chapeaus!” Low-hanging tails of lacey fabric hung from her outstretched arms as she greeted her guests. Matching accoutrements flowed from her hat and veiled the sides and back of her head.
“Oh, this cloche, Daniella!” admired a guest that Phillip didn’t recognize. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen!”
“It’s 2044, dear... time for something daring, wouldn’t you say?” Daniella spoke with such confidence. Phillip suddenly felt underdressed in his smoking cap. He smiled, and found a moment where no one, including his wife, was looking to pull it low to his ears.
The group found their seats at the table as the first course emerged from the clubhouse, carried on fancy silver platters by flat-capped serving staff. No one removed their headpiece as the meal began.
“Have you heard about the Europeans?” a woman with a full floral arrangement atop her bonnet asked. “Sports visors! Pillboxes! Whoopee caps! Barely covered! Can you believe that?”
“So lax... so liberated...” Daniella echoed.
“So lewd,” an older gentleman in a well-worn Sou’wester chimed in.
Just as the staff unveiled the partygoers’ appetizers, the unthinkable happened. A violent cross-breeze swept up from the cliff-side and moved through the group like a tempest. These were the gusts Sadie had worried about. Bedlam erupted as vases fell from the table and serving trays were fumbled. Guests grabbed for their brims in unison.
It was Sadie who got it the worst. Her tall hat lifted cleanly into the air, floated out over the edge of the bluff, and was gracefully discarded down to the sea.
Everyone immediately averted their eyes from one another politely, all except Sadie. In her shock, she scanned the other partygoers. A panicked woman retrieved her fedora from the punch bowl. A man chased his magnificently feathered cap as it cartwheeled across the grounds. She could have sworn that one woman, clutching desperately to a particularly wide-brim, lifted off the ground a little as she tried to keep her hat firmly attached to her head. And then, Sadie made eye contact with Phillip.
He had shielded his gaze with a cupped palm, and having seen her new hat disappear over the cliff’s edge, had turned to focus solely on his wife.
He saw her. He saw her bare head.
Smooth. Pale. Completely bald.
Sadie stared back horror.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Another guest peeked, set down his champagne glass, and clung to the earflaps of his deerstalker, mouth agape.
Bald.
Everyone was bald.
Phillip leapt into action, removing his own hat, snapping the strap under his wife’s chin and rushing her off into the clubhouse.
Husband & wife sat with their backs against the tub of the opulent guest bathroom. The door was latched. Phillip’s hat had been tossed into the gold-edged sink.
“Can I...” Phillip swallowed. “Can I touch it?”
In the intimacy of the moment, neither could resist the teeth-bearing grin spreading across their faces.
“It’s so... smooth...” he giggled.
Sadie reached up and softly ran her palm across Phillip’s cranium.
“Yours too,” she whispered, as though telling a secret. Her shoulders pushed up to her ears, and her grin widened. The baldness at the back of her head folded.
“How long have you been...”
“12 years... It all fell out twelve years ago.”
“Me too!”
They both burst into laughter. Twelve years of hiding escaped. Their joy echoed through the bathroom door and down the hall. Sadie leaned in and placed her shiny forehead against her husband’s. Their faces had not been this close a long, long time. They leaned into one another, still smiling as the laughter subsided.
“I’ve got an extra bucket hat in the back of the car...” Sadie finally said.
Phillip nodded awkwardly, their scalp wrinkles still intertwined. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, enjoying it fully. Then he stood, gathered his smoking cap, and adjusted it in the mirror to maximize coverage. “I’ll go grab it...” He gave his bald wife one more chaste grin and headed back out through the party toward the car.
This is so fresh and fun! I love the quirkiness of it and it's very well-written, as always. For the line your partner mentioned, I could see how it brought them out of the story. I like what you're going for there, but that particular imagery have me the ick a little haha. Maybe their smooth heads caress each other as they nod? Idk either way, this is great. I'd be curious to know how how your writer's group reacts, I hope they give it the love it deserves.