Mad Hatter

There was a wedding at Holy Trinity Church today. (Yes, on a Tuesday.  Weird, I know.)  How did I know it was a wedding?  Well, it wasn't the bagpiper in front of the church.  It wasn't the men in tuxedos and formal kilts milling about.  It wasn't the crowd of towns people, students, and tourists gathering around to catch a glimpse of the bride.  It wasn't even the little kid dressed to the nines that gave it away.

It was the hats. 

 
British women love their hats.  Particularly for weddings.  Hats of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Big hats that small aircraft could land on. Small hats that barely deserve the title.  Hats that perfectly match the color of the outfit.  Hats that accent the subtle tones of the accessories. Hats with feathers. Hats with bows. Hats with birds.  Yes, birds.  Hats of organza and other sheer, filmy material.  Hats that look so heavy you wonder how she can hold their head up.

Don't get me wrong, I love hats!  I could totally get used to wearing hats here!  But I draw the line when they look like an Easter Parade gone horribly wrong!