Ever since Tim and Eric shone a spotlight onto tiny hats, they have apparently become a sizable thing. In fact the little devils are sprouting up like good-time mushrooms under a big pine tree. People on the street look like reasonable, intelligent folk from one side- then WHAM! – the flip side shows a Jekyllesque disaster.
A recent trip to Japan revealed streams of girls chowing down on crepes in Harajuku with these creative pieces of crap tacked to the side of their head. Leading the fray in the States is the aptly-named Ministry of Tiny Hats where you can have a miniature replica of your favourite classic – be it the traditional top hat, mini-sailor, mini-marching band, mini-clown or mini-turd with fishnet feature – crafted by hand.
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Then, just the other day, I saw one of these underdeveloped doodads on the head of a mannequin in a shop window here. Yep, tiny hats, the silliest fashion statement since the dropped-crotch, have hit Melbourne, and in honour of their arrival I thought I’d road test one for a day. Discouragingly, I saw myself in a mirror before the first hour was up and aborted the mission with a solitary photo to show for my efforts.
HELEN J. GROSE
PHOTOS BY MARTY WHITSITT
