NEW YORK — Your eyes smolder from behind the black birdcage veil that wraps the brim of your hat. I know it’s you purely by the style and way you hold yourself, if nothing more. You and those damn hats and how they get me every time. I pretend like my heart doesn’t skip when I see a woman walk past with one of your unique style hats on, but I am only lying to myself. A week ago a woman, elegantly dressed with a Parisian accent was walking down the street, a green hat upon her finely groomed tresses. It was green felt, delicately folded together by a single golden button, complimented by a contrast flume of feathers. It reminded me of the hat you have, almost identical in every way. So badly I want those feathers to brush my cheek as I hold pull you closer to me, away from the noisy traffic on the street, which you migrate to, distracted as you look up at me, excitedly telling me a story. A story about a hat. The grey straw one with the three black progressing circles. The one you said you stumbled upon at a small shop in Greenwich, but you swore you’d never buy because you were embarrassed over all the hats you already owned. Your obsession was always so quirky and loveable to me, though maybe to others compulsive and irresponsible. But you love them. And when buying one you are always wearing one, which always creates a beautiful web when you tell me about them. The simple blue sailor piece you wear almost everyday, being a catalyst to all the others you buy. It almost seems maybe too small atop your already small head, making one wonder if it is for comedic effect or fashion. Some would argue both. But while some might call it comedic, or maybe even tragic, I find it all so beautiful. Like the day I first met you…walking slowly towards me, eyes looking right past me, your hair tucked sweetly underneath the beautiful velvet number that made you seem so utterly sexy and demure at the same time. I wasn’t sure how to react. Should I aggressively pull you close and show you the passion that dwelled inside me when seeing you for the first time, proud and confident? Or did I want to softly pull you closer to me, away from the traffic bustling by in a hurry, unlike you, who slowly seeped into my heart and now stood before me with smoldering eyes beneath another beautiful obsession…

Photographer: Christopher Helmut Grosser
Model: Carley Beck
Stylist: Ximena Garcia De Onrubia
Hair: James P. Moore
Makeup: Nichole Heid

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