The New Orleans Hat

On our hotel room balcony, modeling the hat the day I bought it

I recently took a trip to New Orleans, a place I had wanted to visit for many years. I had been hearing songs, reading books, and seeing movies about the city my whole life. And when I was approaching a milestone birthday, I decided to fulfil the dream and go. 

One of the books I bought for travel planning was called New Orleans Bucket List. Instead of offering info on hotels and restaurants, this book simply lists things to do in the city, ranging from the mainstream to the quirky. I opened it to a random page and landed on number 105, "Try on big hats." Color me excited! It recommended checking out a store called Fleur de Paris in the French Quarter, calling it "the largest millinery in North America."  

I instantly added a visit to this shop (very near our hotel) to our must-see list. In preparation, I followed the shop's Instagram page, where they post pictures of their beautiful hats and clothing. 

Though my specialty is vintage hats that are 50-60 years old, I do follow a few modern hatmakers, so I know their handcrafted wares are priced to reflect the many hours of skilled work and the costly materials that go into high-end hats. I wasn't sure I would be willing to spend the money for one of Fleur de Paris' unique creations.  To get a feel for the prices, I looked them up on resale sites, and sure enough, even secondhand many of their hats fetched prices beyond what I usually paid. The hats are works of art, many quite large and bedecked with flowers and feathers--true Kentucky Derby hats.

​I went to the shop prepared to enjoy browsing but hoping I would find a hat I could take home, maybe a small, portable fascinator like I got in Bath England. 

Fleur de Paris--Hat Heaven!

We went to the store on a Thursday afternoon that was just clearing after an extremely rainy morning.  We were the only customers in the store. I was too embarrassed to revel in trying on every hat in the place, especially once I confirmed that many of the hats were priced beyond what I was comfortable paying, complicated creations more suited to a special occasion than a regular Sunday church service. I loved their hats, but I couldn't justify spending hundreds of dollars on a hat that I wouldn't get to wear that often, no matter how fabulous.

Still, I enjoyed puttering around, looking at the various shapes and decorations. Because the store is famous for making custom hats, they had a long case filled with piles of ribbons and a wall full of little drawers with other trimmings. Notice how they have library ladders to reach the top shelves! I wished I could explore them all.  

A glimpse of the ribbons and other trimmings in the custom hat area

Since the Fleur de Paris milliners are famous makers of Kentucky Derby hats, the store did stock some huge, amazing creations. However, I know from wearing the biggest hat in my collection that those hats aren't for me. I did love a lot of their smaller hats, especially those with unique, whimsical shapes you don't see often--asymmetrical top hats, sleek feathered models like updated Robin Hood hats. And they were trimmed with such unusual ribbons and other decorations! The whole store was a feast! 

As I was regretfully moving towards the door emptyhanded, I spied a straw hat with a pink, white, and brown striped ribbon on a rack full of sun hats. "It's the hat!" I thought. When I had started following the store on Instagram, I had seen this hat in their Instagram posts and had immediately felt drawn to it. I tried it on. It looked great and was in my price range. Compared to their other hats, it was simple. However, I could imagine wearing it on many occasions, perhaps taking over some of the duties of the aging MVP Hat. 

​I immediately bought it.

Kidding! Instead, I said I would think about it and left, mulling it over. I am trying to buy fewer hats. Did I need this one? How would I get it home? Would I have to wear it on the plane?  I did more shopping, including visits to two more hat stores. At each I saw pretty (and relatively reasonable) hats, but there was a sameness to them--they seemed to come from factories somewhere, instead of being uniquely trimmed by a skilled milliner.

And...it was my birthday. 

We returned to Fleur de Paris, and as soon as we walked in, the shopkeeper said, "You came back for the hat." I happily agreed. 

When she asked if I wanted to take it or ship it, she must have seen how torn I was. She suggested that I wear it for the rest of my trip and drop it back at the shop for shipping. "We do it all the time," she said.

My husband got the hat for me as a gift, and I wore it out of the store. Because I didn't want it to be rained on, I didn't wear it constantly the rest of the trip, but I did wear it cruising down the Mississippi on a paddlewheel boat (number 100 on the book's bucket list) later in the week. 

The afternoon before we left, we went back to the store to give them the hat to mail. Since it was Saturday, many shoppers were browsing. When we handed my hat to the (different) clerk for shipping, he found our receipt among several others for hats waiting to be mailed. 

As I watched him carry my hat to the back room, I noticed a lady trying on a large hat with the assistance of a milliner. They were discussing trims for a special occasion hat. The customer was probably getting one of the custom hats the shop is famous for. I saw some of those hats for sale on the secondhand market. Some of them originally cost over a thousand dollars. Several of those secondhand hats were described as "never worn." The owners came to New Orleans and bought a dream hat for an occasion they hoped would materialize that never did. 

I used to be like them, keeping most of my hats in the closet, unworn, until I decided to do this Hat Project. Now I wear at least one hat a week, and often more. No hats languish sadly in boxes. If I'd gotten one of those custom hats, I would certainly have worn it, if only once. Fortunately for me, my favorite hat in the store was one I could enjoy wearing without waiting for a special occasion, except the special occasion of visiting a city I had always longed to see.

Cruising down the Mississippi in my new hat